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?)