Just before I arrived back in Korr, they had some rain – half an hour of heavy rain that fell overnight. That’s been about it for this rainy season – not nearly enough for what is needed, but just enough to bring out the bugs!
Before the rains, the flies, looking for moisture, were getting worse and worse and worse. Nick and Lynne told me that they couldn’t even open their mouths to talk without nearly swallowing a fly. With the rain, the flies have dispersed and the moths moved in. For a few days, there were moths EVERYWHERE, and Nick and Lynne would sweep up a mountain of dead moths from the floors in the morning. Now the moths have seemed to go, and it’s beetles. They drop from the ceiling and fall in our hair, our food, everywhere. They fly into the walls and drop to the floor with pings and ticks and clicks. The noise in my room last night as I was trying to fall asleep was incredible!
Though there has been very little rain, it’s been cloudy the last few days, which doesn’t bode so well for the solar panels that supply us with light at night. About 9:30 last night, the battery died and all our lights went out. Nick and I grabbed our headlamps and tried to continue working on our computers, but, the lights just above our eyes was a perfect magnet for the beetles and lingering moths. Needless to say, we didn’t get much work done. Moths fluttering in our eyes, beetles dropping on our heads, and flies crawling all over the screen of the computer made doing anything rather difficult. A grasshopper even hopped onto Nick’s computer and then jumped into Nick’s face!
Perhaps that was God’s way of telling us to make it an early night!
Showing posts with label Snippets of a desert life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Snippets of a desert life. Show all posts
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Snippets of a desert life - How to take a bucket bath
There’s no running water at the house here in Korr, so bathing is done standing in a large pink bucket inside a little mabati (corrugated sheet metal) room off to the side of the house. I’ve been here nearly two months, and I still love the routine! I’d even call it fun! Whoopie! A bucket bath! This is so cool! Yes, I’m a dork. Deal with it! ;)
Want to get clean? Here are the steps you need to take:
1. Fill a kettle with water and light the stove (that is, if you want warm water – usually it’s so hot I’m happy without this step). Let the water boil as you prepare the rest of your bath.
2. Gather your soap, shampoo, towel, clean clothes, etc and bring them to the stall. Push your hip into the door to slide the padlock out and open the creaky door.
3. Go back to your room and get the bucket that you use for fetching water. Draw a bucket and a half or so of water from the water barrels and dump them in the bath bucket. Draw another bucket of water to leave in the stall for the end of your bath - fresh water to rinse with so you don’t rinse with the soapy water and end up with a film of soap and shampoo all over you for the rest of the day.
4. Go back to the stove and get the kettle. Dump this in the bath bucket, grab the jug for dumping water over you and take your bath. Don’t worry that the door doesn’t close from the inside and just flaps in the breeze as you bathe. Your bath bucket is around the corner and no-one can see you. Just take care when you’re dressing that you STAY around the corner. You never know when a gust of wind will send the door flying open!
5. Once you’re all clean, dump the bath bucket out onto the floor. A little drain pipe will leads to outside and it’ll drain quickly. Return the kettle and the bucket and you’re all done!
6. If you’re REALLY adventurous, do all this by headlamp after dark. It’s much more fun when you’re dodging cockroaches in the shower stall and bathing in near darkness.
7. But of course, if you’re really lazy, just fill up a bucket of water, take it to your room, and splash it all over yourself there. (Don’t worry about the giant puddle on the floor, it’ll be dry in half an hour!)
Want to get clean? Here are the steps you need to take:
1. Fill a kettle with water and light the stove (that is, if you want warm water – usually it’s so hot I’m happy without this step). Let the water boil as you prepare the rest of your bath.
2. Gather your soap, shampoo, towel, clean clothes, etc and bring them to the stall. Push your hip into the door to slide the padlock out and open the creaky door.
3. Go back to your room and get the bucket that you use for fetching water. Draw a bucket and a half or so of water from the water barrels and dump them in the bath bucket. Draw another bucket of water to leave in the stall for the end of your bath - fresh water to rinse with so you don’t rinse with the soapy water and end up with a film of soap and shampoo all over you for the rest of the day.
4. Go back to the stove and get the kettle. Dump this in the bath bucket, grab the jug for dumping water over you and take your bath. Don’t worry that the door doesn’t close from the inside and just flaps in the breeze as you bathe. Your bath bucket is around the corner and no-one can see you. Just take care when you’re dressing that you STAY around the corner. You never know when a gust of wind will send the door flying open!
5. Once you’re all clean, dump the bath bucket out onto the floor. A little drain pipe will leads to outside and it’ll drain quickly. Return the kettle and the bucket and you’re all done!
6. If you’re REALLY adventurous, do all this by headlamp after dark. It’s much more fun when you’re dodging cockroaches in the shower stall and bathing in near darkness.
7. But of course, if you’re really lazy, just fill up a bucket of water, take it to your room, and splash it all over yourself there. (Don’t worry about the giant puddle on the floor, it’ll be dry in half an hour!)
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Snippets of a desert life - Bedtime
There's another new post just below - "Sensory Overload"
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Missionary Midnight. It’s a term that at first I chuckled at, but have realized that it’s quite the reality. The heat is really draining, and while during the day I’m usually ok (sweating, but ok), by the time 9:00 hits, I’m done. I’m generally up an hour later than that, but that’s stretching it to the max! And for me – a super crazy night owl – that’s EARLY! But I have to say, I have a peaceful bedtime routine.
When it’s time to hit the hay, I’ll take my bucket to the water tanks and fetch water. Back in my room, I take my basin down from the table and dip my feet into the now-cool water, washing off the smudged of red dust that coat my feet. I open my door and toss out the water, then pour the fresh water in, ready to wash my face and be used for another day of hand washing.
I grab my toothbrush and my bottle of water and stand outside to brush my teeth under the most amazing sky I have ever seen – there is ZERO light pollution here in Korr, and lately the moon doesn’t rise till the wee hours of the morning, so it is PITCH black outside. I listen to the chirp of the crickets, the nearly deafening buzzing of the wood-borers (like really huge bumble bees that drill into wood) living in my roof, and, if there’s a hyena nearby, the frantic bark of dogs and whooping of the hyena.
Back inside, my intention each night is to journal some significant events of the day, thoughts, prayers, but usually I just crash into bed. I don’t even sleep under the sheet – I don’t have a blanket: who needs one??? – because it’s so hot. I might read a little, but mostly I just lay there listening to the sounds of a desert night and enjoying the wind that blows through my glass-less windows, bringing at least some relief from the heat.
As I drift off, I thank God once again for bringing me here to see and take part in the incredible work he is doing here in the desert.
______________________________________________
Missionary Midnight. It’s a term that at first I chuckled at, but have realized that it’s quite the reality. The heat is really draining, and while during the day I’m usually ok (sweating, but ok), by the time 9:00 hits, I’m done. I’m generally up an hour later than that, but that’s stretching it to the max! And for me – a super crazy night owl – that’s EARLY! But I have to say, I have a peaceful bedtime routine.
When it’s time to hit the hay, I’ll take my bucket to the water tanks and fetch water. Back in my room, I take my basin down from the table and dip my feet into the now-cool water, washing off the smudged of red dust that coat my feet. I open my door and toss out the water, then pour the fresh water in, ready to wash my face and be used for another day of hand washing.
I grab my toothbrush and my bottle of water and stand outside to brush my teeth under the most amazing sky I have ever seen – there is ZERO light pollution here in Korr, and lately the moon doesn’t rise till the wee hours of the morning, so it is PITCH black outside. I listen to the chirp of the crickets, the nearly deafening buzzing of the wood-borers (like really huge bumble bees that drill into wood) living in my roof, and, if there’s a hyena nearby, the frantic bark of dogs and whooping of the hyena.
Back inside, my intention each night is to journal some significant events of the day, thoughts, prayers, but usually I just crash into bed. I don’t even sleep under the sheet – I don’t have a blanket: who needs one??? – because it’s so hot. I might read a little, but mostly I just lay there listening to the sounds of a desert night and enjoying the wind that blows through my glass-less windows, bringing at least some relief from the heat.
As I drift off, I thank God once again for bringing me here to see and take part in the incredible work he is doing here in the desert.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Snippets of a desert life - My morning commute
It's early in the morning - not much past sunrise. The light is still golden, the shadows cast by the acacia trees are long. I slip on my still-dusty sandals and walk out the green gates on my way to school.
Just out of the gate, I head down a slight slope to cross the bone-dry river bed and note the black-headed goat that always seems to graze there. Minding the nail-like thorns on the ground, I pass a hut or two, chickens running around the edge, the smoky smell of chai drifting from the kitchen huts. Goats bleating, iridescent blue swallows singing, I pass the houses and arrive at the airstrip.
The acacia-lined air strip is really one long stretch of cleared desert, rocks and sand forming swaths of white and red under a moon still high in the sky, despite the morning blue. My landmark are the dozen or so tanks of jet fuel - red, green, and blue steel drums just lying there under the shade of a large tree.
As I walk up the airstrip, I keep my eyes open for the turnoff to the school - a 'road' that consists of nothing more than two tire tracks heading off into the distance. I can see the school in the from here - at the top of the hill, the morning sun hits the white walls and it nearly glows. I cross another riverbed, dry and sandy, and pass the wells that line the banks. Round concrete walls surround the holes that go deep through the desert rock. No animals are there right now, but I've been told at some times during the year, the place is alive with people and camels drawing water and drinking deeply.
Winding my way up the hill, I note the hoof prints in the sand and revel in the cool of the morning. It will not be this way for long. My skirt blows around my legs and whips my hair as the never-ending desert wind whirls around me. Off in the distance I'll often see huge columns of dust kicked up over the distant desert.
I arrive at the school compound, marked only by large rocks painted white. A Rendille woman carrying firewood for the kitchen greets me, and I make my way across the school yard, ready to begin my day.
Just out of the gate, I head down a slight slope to cross the bone-dry river bed and note the black-headed goat that always seems to graze there. Minding the nail-like thorns on the ground, I pass a hut or two, chickens running around the edge, the smoky smell of chai drifting from the kitchen huts. Goats bleating, iridescent blue swallows singing, I pass the houses and arrive at the airstrip.
The acacia-lined air strip is really one long stretch of cleared desert, rocks and sand forming swaths of white and red under a moon still high in the sky, despite the morning blue. My landmark are the dozen or so tanks of jet fuel - red, green, and blue steel drums just lying there under the shade of a large tree.
As I walk up the airstrip, I keep my eyes open for the turnoff to the school - a 'road' that consists of nothing more than two tire tracks heading off into the distance. I can see the school in the from here - at the top of the hill, the morning sun hits the white walls and it nearly glows. I cross another riverbed, dry and sandy, and pass the wells that line the banks. Round concrete walls surround the holes that go deep through the desert rock. No animals are there right now, but I've been told at some times during the year, the place is alive with people and camels drawing water and drinking deeply.
Winding my way up the hill, I note the hoof prints in the sand and revel in the cool of the morning. It will not be this way for long. My skirt blows around my legs and whips my hair as the never-ending desert wind whirls around me. Off in the distance I'll often see huge columns of dust kicked up over the distant desert.
I arrive at the school compound, marked only by large rocks painted white. A Rendille woman carrying firewood for the kitchen greets me, and I make my way across the school yard, ready to begin my day.
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