Village Life

11 Juilliet 2006

Let me tell you how in love I am with some of the children here. My
two favorites are my little niece Amtee and my nephew Abu who are both
not possibly older than 7, and cuter than any two beings have a right
to be. Bursting with personality they are: Amtee with her half and
half hair (one side in braids, the other left to its defenses in a
wild Fro) and Abu with his missing front teeth (four on top, four on
bottom) with which he constantly self-consciously fidgets. Also
Crystal's Abu (they are standard issue here) who is silent and
morosely un-smiling, and then shy and lisping Damaak of the giant buck
teeth, beautiful teen Halima, spunky Habiba- all of them. These people
are GORGEOUS, they won the genetic lottery, like some sort of
consolation prize for living in a 100 % shithole (J/K, J/K.......)

The houses: the houses are made of mud, or rather a mixture of mud and
something else which makes them rather strong-ish. Some are made of
cement like blocks, but regardless they are all the color of the
ground, which is dun or light tan. Truly, there is very little color
here, save for the pastel yellow and blue windows of the madrasa, or
the green of a few trees (Neem, and Balinides Egyptica mostly). There
seems to be no planning involved in the village's structure- in fact
even the word village conjures images in the American mind which are
much more centralized than this will ever be. There are some places
with many huts clustered together, and some huge empty spaces with
nothing but trash for meters and meters. Nothing is parallel: the
paths, such as they are, are all winding and jagged. Geometry of
buildings is limited: minimalist rectangles, and/or asymmetrically
chic shapes seem to be the in- thing. I personally think it is so
last-season, but whatevs.

Last night, Caleb and Saman and Bolol came to visit and check up on us
in a big Peace Corps white cariot. We met in the garden, where our
plots were almost dug (beautiful, beautiful) and where we had just
lost our water hauling bladder down to well's dark abyss. Then on to
my house's front porch for a little chat, some cookies and cold cokes
(a thing of beauty) and a little ubiquitous etaay (tea) Then a storm
started to move in on the horizon, in dazzling swirls of dust and
filtered light which darkened the sky; it was bitchin'! My family
laughed because I wanted to sit out amidst the dust and watch it.

I was totally willing to be blown all around with dust because the
rain was supposed to follow the storm, and I, accordingly would frolic
nekked in it. But no rain. Motherfucker. And no one seems to know why
"Maa narav" (don't know) they say. Well, thanks for nothing.