Sunday 5th July

I think you get a much realer view of stuff if I write day by day- so I’ll use the laptop I brought as long as the batteries last.
I was expecting to be going firewood collecting today with the ladies from the village (3am departure), but it was cancelled (yay?!!), so yesterday evening I went to visit the lady who had invited me to find out why. ‘How are you this evening?’ I asked ‘oh- not good’ she answered. ‘Are you sick?’ then she proceeded to tell the story. Last Friday I left for town at 1pm and she had asked if I could take her pregnant daughter to the hospital in town. As I was ready to leave I was told I could go- they had decided to go to the closer hospital about 15km away. That hospital was in a different direction so I left- not giving it a second thought. Her daughter gave birth that afternoon to twin boys. They both died. They got the mother to the hospital where she stayed for a few days and now she is at home recovering.
Sigh. I can’t help but think ‘what if?’ What if I had driven 15km in the opposite direction and gotten her to proper medical care? But I didn’t know she was in labour- I just thought they wanted to get there early and be ready. 2 little lives finished before they even started. I bet they would have survived if the mother happened to be Australian not African. I still struggle with why some of us are born into wealth and opportunity- and others to poverty and oppression. It’s certainly not cos we’ve earned it.

Last week when I was in town I bombarded my language helper with questions about giving and sharing and taking and borrowing in this culture. I tell ya what- I learnt those words fast the first week here! She laughed as I told her stories of people coming to ask me to share salt, tea and matches with them, my sharp knife going walk about at meal times and people inviting themselves over after dinner knowing that I always make a cuppa tea (then complaining loudly that theirs didn’t have enough sugar). It wasn’t all one way though- my night guard happily borrowed a broom, machette and a big bucket for heating water for my morning bathe from next door as if he owned them. People sit and watch me cook and happily accept whatever I (feel pressured to) offer- but many of these same people feed me ugali when I just drop by their house to say hello- or send me little bowls of accompaniments for my ugali. Chicken one day, peanuts and sweetpotato another, linyololo (snot central). How does all this giving work? There doesn’t seem to be rhyme nor reason. Then one day, I watched as the grandmother next day called in one of the local kids and let him sit and eat all the leftovers by himself. You’re allowed to feed other peoples kids??!! Yes- apparently.

My language helper smiled broadly through all these stories. ‘now you’re going to learn real culture’ she said. And proceeded to outline the unspoken rules (thank God for my language helper!) yes, people can come and ask for salt, tea, sugar, oil, maize flour- you name it- but not every day. They can’t have the same problem every day- only once every 4 to 7 days can they come back and ask again (?!!). If you have a lot of what they are asking for- you give a generous amount. A heaped plate of maize flour, a heaped tablespoon of salt/tea/sugar etc. If you only have a little- give a quarter of what you have. Can you imagine if this concept hit OUR culture? J With the kids she said that a lot of kids only get fed once or twice a day- so if you have leftovers, or want to cook for them – that’s fine. Their mothers won’t feel shame that you’ve fed them- quite the opposite. She warned me not to let giving kids food become a habit otherwise they’ll stop getting fed at home. Wow.

So, last night the neighbors kid seemed pretty excited about my dinner so we shared. I tell ya what- he’s only 4 but I had to eat fast to get my half! Today one of the kids who I know rarely gets fed was eyeing off my beans as I was preparing them, so after I’d eaten lunch I invited him to join me. Have you eaten porridge today? Head shake. Drunk tea? Head shake. His mother left him and his sister with the grandmother and left the country about a year ago apparently. I served him up greens, beans and ugali. He ate the beans, squeezed all the juice out of the greens and drank it- then sat there with a big grin. I don’t blame him for not eating the ugali- his body is probably screaming for protein. Later some more kids came in and eyed off the left over ugali (that I didn’t know where to throw out discreetly!). Can we eat it? They asked. Sure. Have you got anything to go with it? I served up a small amount of beans. They ate the lot, washed up the bowls and quietly filed out. ‘thank you ‘doesn’t seem to be a big part of receiving things here, but their smiles said it all.

Im writing a lot aren’t I?! hehe its ok- the batteries are almost gone already. Besides cooking and feeding kids today, I also had a long chat with a friend from Australia- so refreshing! Then I went to the markets to buy greens- but there weren’t any so the neighbor donated some (J), then…I swept my house, washed the dishes- including pots, visited the ladies a few houses away, pounded maize till my arms burned (all of 10 min! shame). Then after lunch did some prep for tomorrow, watched the girls playing netball, went for an explore and met lots of ladies- but a few that might be good to help me with language, then carried water, cooked dinner…and here I am about to start work on reports. Don’t you love my prioritizing?!