Chairs

3 Juilliet 2006

There are no chairs anywhere. I just want to sit in a goddamned chair. The closest I've come in weeks is sitting on the steps or the crook of a tree. I've tried infinite variations of cross-legged, cross-ankled, elbow-leaning, Indian style supine positions. My cocyxx hurts. My spine is tired from holding itself straight; leaning against a wall is heaven.

We all sit on mattelas (thin foam mats) but lying in public is strictly organized. Men may only lie on their backs, and women only on their stomachs. To do otherwise would be seen as odd and provacative. Either sex may lie on their side, but I personally think it is the most 'come hither' of the three.

This morning we went out to the garden again, in the cool and the breeze; it rained a little bit. We passed through the beat-up turquoise door in the wall and played a game on the mattelas about which vegetable we would be, if we were consigned to that fate. I would be a carrot.

We learned about pick axing, double-digging the soul, enriching with manure, and then we dug out our 1 by 3 meter beds with loving (and firm) care, manured them, watered them, and now we wait.

The animals here make the worst noises. Donkeys and goats mostly, their calls sound like a murder.

Speaking of death, last night we watched the cook slaughter a few goats for our dinner. Five total, I think. He skinned them by shoving his hand underneath the skin to separate it from the muscle, the way one might season a chicken.

I should say how fond I feel of many of the people here. It's strange, but good. Also, the flies here are everywhere, yet not aggravating like they are in America. Bye for now.