I’ve been extremely remiss. Occasionally I write snippets or paragraphs, so I’ll string a few of them together.
It was my buddy’s birthday recently, so naturally I baked a cake. I left it in the oven overnight due to a full refrigerator and to protect it from flies. In any case, when I pulled it out the next day to frost, I found it swarming with ants.
Okay, so in the US this is obvious: throw the cake away and bake a new one. Here, not so clear. You can’t waste a whole freaking cake. That’s absurd. I didn’t have more flour and there was no place open to buy more. I didn’t have time to bake another.
I thought back to times I’d eaten cookies with ants on them or consumed juice hosting an ant pool party. Insects are great protein sources too! I blew off as many of the ants as I could, and put the cake in the freezer for awhile to kill the rest of the little moochers. Then a nice layer of white frosting covered any evidence.
To seal the deal, we ate it outside by candlelight with no chance of spotting corpses. And I’m happy to say, no one got sick and everyone said it was good. Yes!
I was thinking about ways in which I’ve changed here in outlook or mentality. Definitely patience grows living in a developing country.
The importance of family is greater than the US. In the States, the bond within immediate family members is strong, but here it extends farther. “Family” encompasses more people, 2nd, 3rd cousins. The definitions are different. There are no half siblings. Men having children with multiple women is common, and all are considered full brothers and sisters. Family trees are…interesting.
We live on the bottom apartment of a two story. The other night the kids upstairs were particularly loud and annoying, and finally they got what was coming to them. Instead of being horrified as we might have been in the US, we smiled at one another knowingly, acknowledging that it was about time.
Okay here we go Beau: Living more intimately with animals makes me less against hunting. Coming from Michigan and knowing plenty of hunters, I never had a problem with it. It’s the guns that bother me (An AK47 or a semi-auto Glock for hunting? To protect yourself from the queen of England? If as an American you have the right to bear arms, why not bear a 1700s black powder rifle or pistol like our forefathers? Who needs an M-16?). But anyway, I never cared to hunt because I didn’t think I could kill an animal. After living here, seeing animals killed, killing a few, I might just give it a go in the States. If you’re going to eat meat, you might as well be willing to kill it yourself.
I just found out I’m returning during the summer to the village from which I moved. I’m incredibly excited to go back to the strange little place I learned to love, though it could explode at any time! Just kidding, eruptions are announced by tremors giving enough time to escape.
The other night I went to a discoteca with some PCVs. Two female colleagues and I left early as the club was empty and it was getting late. Sitting on my front step, we heard crying from the nearby park. Then a cartoonishly loud “smack,” so overdone and followed by a strange guttural noise we assumed a few kids were playing. Moments later a teenage girl ran out from the park, sat down against a wall, and sobbed, head in hands. One of the PCVs went to talk to her, to make sure she was all right. The perfect gentleman of a boyfriend stalked over, arguing with them. From the step we couldn’t hear everything, but we did catch, “When we get home I’m going to beat you. It’s my right.” After more negotiating, begging, imploring by the PCV, the guy grabbed the girl by the hand, pulled her to her feet. He dragging her, she resisting, but ultimately following, they went off into the night.
It was disgusting. I wish I had gone over and said something. As right as my fellow PCV was in her arguments against the girl leaving just to get beaten by the guy who’ll certainly not face repercussions, he wasn’t going to listen to her. Maybe he would’ve listened to another guy. Maybe he would’ve felt embarrassed for a fleeting moment. Maybe not. At least I wouldn’t be sitting here wondering “What if?”
I’ll try to follow up with a what-I-do-everyday blog before long. Thanks for your patience. By local standards, I’m right on time.
