I've got Sense, Yo.

Ok so this blog was per a friend’s request that I write about using my 5 senses in my village.  Little known fact: I actually have 6.  Ok, that’s a lie.  So here’s my two cents on the 5 senses.  (Seriously, why do you people even read my lameness on here!?) 

Senses.  Let’s do this. Shall we.

                        Hearing:

Roosters start sounding the alarm at 4am and continue for the next few hours making sure that no one is sleeping past sunrise.  (I want to fry them all up Buffalo Wild Wings Style.) 

                       

                         I live on a tiny 1-strip market street of my town…So…

-Metal shop clanking is constant. 

-Babies crying while sitting with their mamas selling sugarcane, tomoto, onion, and omena (dried minnows, basically)

-Girls primary school to the left of my house so I can hear counting 1-100, repeating memorized answers, and high shrills during games time

-Many times they will have events in town with blown speakers that drowned out my choice of music for the next 5 hours.

           

                                    Taste:

Had porridge for the first time…it tastes like if you were to make a grits shake.  So better than I had expected.  Though I won’t miss this or make it for myself, but also won’t refuse it when it is given to me.  If it sits for a minute it grows a film on the top.  This is gross. I’m a textured eater and my buds of taste don’t like it. 

Omena- This is the one I thought I would lose it on.   Again textured eater.  In their defense they aren’t as bad as I thought and I am basing this on the fact that I didn’t puke.  Which is a miracle if you know me.  The girl who has somehow managed to throw up on herself, twice while being behind the steering wheel.  (This of course was in America.  Not allowed to drive here.) Did I paint that picture beautifully enough for you.  But seriously can you imagine being the car next to me.  Looking over and seeing chunks hitting the dash, windshield, steering wheel, and lets not forget me!  Pole Sana for that.  I’m very sorry.  I really should think about who reads this.  (But do you see what I’m doing there.  I’m trying to lose readers so I don’t have to BLOG.) 

Ok so the omena they were surprisingly crunchy.  Not so surprisingly fishy tasting.  The key is chew once and get that sucker down as fast as possible.  No reason to savor the flavor here.  And if you can help it don’t look in their eyes as you pop them in your mouth.   It messes with you.  Thanks for attending Omena eating 101.

Sight:

A lot of green and brown going on.  When I first arrived to site I was amazed by how green and lush the area was.  Now it is dry season and it is dusty dusty dusty.  Nothing but dust.  The dust storms are crazy wicked.  I’m thankful for the wind during the dry season but sweating and dust being blown on me not the best combination.  The dust gets in my house and turns everything orange.  Sweeping and dusting are a daily chore.  The crops and fields are mostly shades of brown right now. 

My site has many hills, which make it nice to look at. 

Really though, I’m the site to be seen here.  Ya, I said it.  No but seriously, I live in a fish bowl.  Sometimes its fun, but it can also get rather annoying.  I miss the days I could walk outside and go unnoticed.  The days in America where you could blend and no one cared what you were doing and left you to your business.  Of course, I’m sure I will have days when I return that I miss 100 kids running towards me shouting my name.  So for now I will enjoy the heck out of it. 

                                    

                                    Smell:

So this one really depends on where you are as to what you smell.  I have passed some places that reek so bad I’ve almost puked.  The other day my sense of smell played a mean trick on me.  There was an aroma of BBQ ribs.  For one second I was in heaven until I realized, it was in no way BBQ and it would be 17 months till I could sink my teeth into ribs.   (Yes, I will continue to whine about food for the next 17 months.  We’ve got a long journey ahead of us.  Buckle up.)

Not a lot of deodorant usage going on.  So when you do get that rare whiff of someone who is wearing cologne its like an instant attraction.  Pheromones people. 

I love it when it rains.  Always a refreshing smell. 

                                   

                                    Touch:

Hmmm not sure where to go on this one.   The grass feels crunchy.  The tree bark feels like…you guessed it, tree bark.   Allow me to mention again how the kids try to rub the white off my arms and love to pet my hair.  

This is my hairdresser.  She makes sure I look gooooooood!

Sometimes this can be dangerous.  I mean really.  When I’ve got a whole school encircling me it’s like a mob.  My glasses have been knocked off and I’ve lost my shoes in the process of trying to break free before the stampede of primary school students tramples me. 

 I wasn’t going to do it.  But I will be brave and march on to be completely lame and note how my time here observing and being invited into the homes and another culture, this whole experience is touching me.  Beyond my capacity of even knowing… I am extremely blessed. 

This could be dangerous but I’m gonna throw it out there because I laugh in the face of danger.  That’s what I say.  (Actually, Simba said that.)  I honestly don’t know if I can post this blog.  I’m in a weird mood today.  I’m blaming it on the fact that I’m drunk on Gatorade.  Haven’t had the Gator since last June.  But I just got a package of it!!!! 

So back to walking on the wild side.  If there is something you want me to make a post about HollerAtYerGirl.  I will give it my best efforts.  And I won’t drink a liter of Gatorade before posting it.  I think I’ve learned my lesson with this post.  (Also, can someone check to see if Gatorade will send me free Gatorade since I have mentioned Gatorade like 10 times in the last 18 seconds. 

One last thing I realize I haven’t posted on the actual work aspect of what I’m doing here.  That is coming soon.  Next month.  I promise.  Scouts honor.  (I was never a scout so does that even count?) 

What's Normal...

My normal in the States looked so different but this is what my new normal looks like…

            Seeing donkeys carrying a ridiculous amount of cargo.    

            Walking through a heard of cow.

            Eating chips (fries) with a fork but most other foods with my hands.  (I can’t even begin to explain it)

            Telling people my name is Sela because that is how they pronounce it anyway.   (I’m one step ahead in this game.)

            Goats jumping my gate to eat my compost and chickens racing towards me for the scraps. 

            Seeing toddlers roam on their own / Young children caring for and carrying even smaller children strapped to their back with a piece of cloth.  (Seriously, those baby carrier things that are outrageously expensive…Unnecessary.)

            Kids climbing under my compound gate to listen to music, dance, and play.

            Feeling like I’m in a parade everyday.

            Hearing this constantly…Give me…sweets, your shoes, clothes off your back, your bag, whatever you are holding in your hand pretty much.  Marry me.  Take me to America.    

            Being flogged by students wanting to touch my hair and skin.

            Living without a fridge (and not really even realizing the lack of one anymore.)

            Having 4 shillings in my bank account.

            Having money in my bank account but the ATM not working so I have to live on $ 1 . 50 for the rest of the week.

            Getting excited about the littlest things.  Seriously it doesn’t take much here.

            Having a meal at a neighbor’s house and eating 10 minutes past the time you were full only to have them tell you that you didn’t eat. 

            Seeing other mzungus (foreigners) and staring at them wondering what in the bejeezus are they doing here.

            Seeing an entire family and pets/dinner on a motorcycle.   No kidding I’ve seen a kid sitting in front holding the hand grips.  The father driving.  A child in between the father and mother holding a chicken and the mother holding a baby in back.   (In case you weren’t counting that’s 5 plus a chicken.)

            When out at an actual restaurant…seeing people leave half their drink or dessert and wanting to go grab the left overs, but the waiter swoops in before you swiped it.

            Awkward and outside the comfort zone = typical day.

            Tucking myself in my mosquito net only to realize I forgot something.

            Not being able to live without buckets and basins in my life.  (What did I ever do without them??? Oh that’s called a washing machine, sink, and shower!)

            Collecting soda caps, blueband (butter) containers, anything really because even though it is trash you can do something with it.  Need a bowl have a blueband container, need a jewelry holder have a blueband container, need a wine glass blueband. Making cinnamon sugar for your toast- blueband it.   (I’m worried I’m turning into a hoarder.)

            If a shirt/skirt has only been worn a couple times and isn’t completely orange from the dust then it’s still clean. 

            Turning around when I hear Nahula. (My village name.)

            Leaving spiders alone in my house to eat the bugs. (One Friday night was spent watching a battle between a spider and grasshopper.  The spider killed it. Literally.  Oh how my weekend activities have changed.)

            Riding in a 5-person vehicle with 12 people. Or in the trunk with a bag of dead fish.  (Done this more than I can count.) Or a 14 with 30.  If your lap is open there is still space.  I have stood in a moving vehicle leaning over other passengers.  I have sat on others and have had people sit on me.  It is a death trap every time.  (What is a seat belt?) 

            Carrying around toilet paper everywhere you go.   (If you are smart.)

            Always having a book in my backpack because it is inevitable that you will be waiting hours before your meeting will start.  Or your vehicle will break down and you have no idea how many godforsaken hours you will be on the side of the road waiting. 

            Having leftovers from the previous night for breakfast.  I would never do this in the states.  I mean I would rarely if ever eat leftovers that same day with refrigeration.  I will be a human garbage disposal when I get back to America and leftovers will always get eaten from here on out. 

           

I’m a little scared what this will all mean in a year and a half when I return to such a different world.  My Grandpa K. grew up during the great depression and I remember him disliking that we would throw away plastic cups and he would dig them out to wash them.  (But isn’t that the plastic cups purpose and the point in buying them?)  Will this now be me going through the trash and seeing so many possibilities other than garbage?  Am I destined to glares and stares because I grab plates of half eaten food from unoccupied tables?   How many places will I get kicked out of because I pop a squat because the line for the bathroom is too long? 

This is my life and this is normal.

Oh and I also do this…

NORMAL.