September 6, 2010

Day 3..

Slaying dragons and spreading peace across the land is hardly on the agenda though Ayiko and I did manage to have a meeting to discuss our way forward. We hope to find some funding (always with the funding) to move forward with some non-violent election training for the youth and women. Truly, it’s not a terribly ambitious, over-reaching project but the money finding is always the obstacle. I recall with vivid clarity my first residency in ’08 crowing “where’s the money coming from? Who’s the funder? What’s their agenda? “ Bgawk! and here it is again. So, while we hammer out the theme and scope of our projects and side by each degree thematics of elections and non-violence and gender equity, the money elephant takes up residence in the room. We’re working on it to be sure but today is a bit of write off as Ayiko is summoned to take his uncles’ wife to the hospital for the third day in a row. The poor woman is suffering from some ailment and the doctors have been drunk, and the hospital wants money, and I am called into service to be the mzungu on the phone with some authority to bring the doctor to the maternity clinic for an ultrasound. And so the day goes by with murderous rain and earth shaking thunder and lightening.

Again with the barnyard, I kid you not. A dozen turkeys, one of which is being eviscerated a short distance from me. I avert my eyes knowing it’s on the menu tonight. Yep, I’m squeamish about the food thing. I’m sorry but I’m just not the type to get to know her food before she eats it. I’ve spent the better part of the afternoon in the black and angry rain planted at my hut doorway outpost squaring off with a rooster in steely-eyed stare down. No question who wins that one.. cock a doodle doo is a victory cry in this yard. It seems I am fated to be amongst the noise and clatter of children and babies and critters and thinking there must be something I have to learn from that. I thought the suite I abandoned at home was the last I would have to endure of screaming children, the laugh, it seems, is on me; escaping for a cappacino isn’t even vaguely in the cards. Three months I tell myself after only 3 days! I’m not so much culture shocked as in a here we go again state of mind… my time in Ghana floats back to remind me.

It’s the monkey though that has my attention and gnaws at my conscience (as though it were my conscience to be nagged). Locked in a room in the dark without food or water with only a ratty old towel to hug and box full of yappy young chickens for company.. geezus.. a baby alone. I take my book in with some water and give her some company. A rat careens across the room and I shudder, I knew they were here… I think they’re in my roof. An email from Bruce assures me that it’s probably lizards. And so the day goes. I look at the monkey and think it’s a metaphor, we’re both locked in our rooms not knowing what is to come next and where we have landed and what if anything is on the menu tonight?

It is late now.. the creature, which we are confirming is a rat, is running rampant in the roof. My skin crawls with each frantic scuttle that passes above me. I have seen them. They are considerable and hideous. Hut living is not all it’s cracked up to be but I love the sounds from the kitchen, the singing and laughter and warmth.