Adventures of a Half-Thumb

So I found a rather large rubber band hanging around my hut a few weeks ago and decided I didn’t want it.  I strolled on over to my mom and informed her.  She was quite happy to take it off my hands and when I asked what she was going to do with it she demonstrated, by putting it over my younger sister’s head and using it as a belt.  That’s creative re-purposing for you.

The mother of the two malnourished twins I wrote about a little while ago is still living in my family’s compound.  The first time I saw her after returning from vacation she was only carrying one of them.  I asked where her other child was.  She repeatedly put her palms together like she was praying, tilted her head sideways and laid her head to rest on her hands.  I asked if he was sleeping but she kept repeating the motion indicating that I hadn’t gotten it quite right.  He died.  He died while I was home, presumably because of malnutrition.  She said he would not eat the nutrition loaded moringa powder I suggested.  I didn’t know what to feel. Upset? Angry? Frustrated? Just plain sad?  As with other similar events I have written about, I really didn’t know this child well.  So what struck me most was the injustice of it all.  There is a health post in my village that gives away free high calorie bars to malnourished children.  Free.  All his mom had to do was walk 200 yards to the Health Post.  Why didn’t she?  I don’t think she didn’t care, because she now has several of the high calorie bars for her other son.  I don’t think she didn’t know, because I told her.  I think she didn’t understand.  So many Senegalese don’t view sickness the way we do.  They’ve been sensitized to understand that malaria is a problem…but malaria comes and goes, or kills, quickly.  They can see the connection.  It’s so much harder to see the connection between malnutrition.  The same thing goes for STDs, and even family planning or pre-natal health.  I’m going to blame the educational system here again, as I often do, because it doesn’t teach students to comprehend.  It teaches them to memorize, instead of think.  So it isn’t surprising they struggle to understand an abstract concept with no easily visible cause and effect.

Moving on.  I brought back obscene amounts of lipstick, eye liner, hand cream, etc.  (Thank you Aunt Carol, Mrs. Cubit, Mom and Mandy!)  The women in my village LOVE it.  And I’m also getting a kick out of it because now as I am just walking around village I see so many highly make-uped faces.  It’s really funny!  The little kids have been having a blast as well.

The girl who I have now mentioned twice in previous entries (she was married, sent to another village, and then returned, only to be dragged back) is now back in my village for good.  Apparently she kept running away so her husband gave up.  He appears to have done so graciously in the end.  The money that was exchanged was unexchanged and if the baby is born (she is pregnant) they will meet again to discuss its future.  Why, you may ask did she think her new village was so bad?  Her husband was just fine…there just weren’t enough young people in her new village.

While I was sitting with my moms cracking peanuts the other day 6 donkeys came stampeding through our compound.  The funny part wasn’t necessarily the herd of donkeys, but the fact that my family (and I) didn’t react at all.  I asked whose donkeys they were, and my mom informed me that they belonged to a village about 1k away.  I was really hoping a disheveled donkey herder would come dashing through our compound but I wasn’t that lucky.

I was sitting with my friend’s host mom and older sister a few weeks ago.  His mom started to pray, then turned abruptly to his sister and said, “O I forgot I have to take my shirt off.”  I thought this was an interesting preparation for praying.  She continued to change into a new shirt.  She then explained to his sister that she had been wearing it since the day before.  I figured this was why she needed to switch, but then she continued on to explain that the baby had peed on her yesterday, and she couldn’t pray with dried pee on her shirt. Duh.

Since my service is winding down, I decided I needed to get serious about collecting money for my projects – namely the money for the women’s garden.  It was pretty much a mob shake down.  The two mob bosses (the two women’s group presidents), the fast talker (one of the president’s sister wives) and the intimidator (clearly that was me) walked from house to house collecting money.  We actually succeeded in collecting almost all the money and I’m going to attribute that success to my terrifyingness.

It actually makes me feel kind of mean, making everyone pay up for the garden.  Yes, before we started the project I made it clear they would have to pay.  But because they took so long to pay, I fronted the money.  So now, all the money I collect from them goes straight to me, and I really don’t need it as much as they do.  The problem is, they are more likely to use the garden if they have contributed financially to it.  I have decided to take the money and then secretly re-invest it in the garden. So I can sleep at night…or not.

One night in my hut I awoke to a scruffle.  I’ve been a wee bit paranoid sleeping lately (I think my malaria meds are getting to me), so I jumped up and frantically shone my headlamp around my hut.  What I found was not, in fact, the ax murderer I was expecting but a mouse chasing a frog.  They disappeared from view and the mouse returned a bit later dragging the dead frog. Seriously!?  I thought mice ate cheese (I never considered the possibility that there is no cheese in Thiewal Lao).  I never knew they were such ruthless hunters.

I think working as a volunteer here must be similar to being a parent…except I’m not taking care of children, I’m taking care of fully grown adults.  They come to me when they have disputes and expect me to solve them.  It gets frustrating being asked to constantly solve the problems of adults.  Kids are one thing, but adults should be able to face the responsibility.  The problem is I really can’t solve many of their problems, they have to.  It’s a frustrating predicament which I feel acutely some days and not at all other days and is probably largely responsible for all the times when I’m the one acting like a child, and my Senegalese friends are the ones taking care of baby-adult me.  Yes…I’m a hypocrite.

I had a moment of integration a week ago.  I waited literally all day, by the side of the road, for a car that never came and I didn’t even care.  I felt so Senegalese J  And since I am now so wonderfully integrated I decided to stop tolerating the amazement that people express when they see me doing household chores.  Example – “Wow Jenaba, you can do dishes?! You can get water from the well!?”  Yes…as a matter of fact I’ve been doing dishes for a while now and I pull water every day. How exactly do they think we do dishes in the US?  (we don’t always have a dishwasher J)

One of the women in my village was beaten by her husband.  The village was a bit disapproving of the incident which made me happy, but there still wasn’t much being done about it.  I asked the woman how I could help and she asked me to talk to her husband.  So I did.  I was a bit nervous, but I think it went well.  I asked why he hit her and he said she talked back.  We talked about it for a bit and I don’t think I changed his mind, but I think he will think about it a little more in the future.  It felt good to chat about it.

And now for the most awesome moment of my February (thus far).  While waiting in the garage to head back to my village I saw a woman with twins.  But what really struck me was her thumb.  She had one thumb that split at the joint, so she had two tips on her thumb complete with two fingernails (one for each tip).  Seeing as I only have half a thumb I got really excited!  I got the woman’s attention, and then before I could say anything else she tried to give me one of her children.  I respectfully declined and then showed her my thumb and asked if she would give me one of her extra thumb tips (this is a little bit more acceptable here than in the US).  She appreciated that joke.  I then asked if I could take a picture of our thumbs together.  She said sure, but I would need to pay her…two dollars!  Lets summarize, she was willing to give me one of her children for free, but a photo of our thumbs together was gonna cost me.  I was willing to pay about twenty-five cents…so I am going to have to live the rest of my life without the double thumb, half thumb photo.