Knew it would be a hot one when Sisi poked me in the nose at 5:30 this morning and the air wasn’t moving through my open window. Nothing blowing against my sweat drenched self. Sigh. And my power was out again.
Too hot for breakfast, so I took a cold shower, which was the only alternative and actually felt pretty good. I then headed to the Water Utilities Corporation office down the road to meet the Otse Disability Support Group vice-chair to talk to them about hooking water up to the office site. They needed a letter from the building owners, the Village Development Council, so we headed over there. The vice-chair is getting a barrage of phone calls along the way, and I am able to understand that she is telling whomever what we are doing. It’s like we are on a large group mission, even though she and I are the only frontline soldiers for now.
On the way to the VDC office, we saw another member of the group and told her what we were doing. She was on her way to the clinic. A bit further along the road, we get a call from her that the guy we are going to meet at the VDC office has a meeting in Gabs and we should come back to the clinic to talk to another member of the VDC who happens to be there. So we turn around and go back.
I take this opportunity to enjoy the pit latrine because of the 3 glasses of juice I had for breakfast. It was my first chance to use one without a door. Nice. We spoke to that woman who said we should now go see the guy who was leaving for the Gabs meeting, because he hadn’t left yet and would wait for us.
So we went back that way. It is now about 8 a.m. and hotter than it really needs to be at this hour, or any hour. We get to the VDC office and he tells me to go ahead and draft the letter on his computer. Okay, I say, but what should it actually say? So he tells me and we cut and paste their letterhead onto a new letter. When I type Otse, the ever so smart computer turns it into “toes” and no matter how hard I try it won’t let me change it. Luckily, he has managed to at some point to get Otse correctly in the Letterhead template so I cut and paste it in. He says, “It is always doing stuff like that and I can’t stand it.” Well, yeah, if every time you have to type the name of your village, which is probably daily because you are part of the Village Development committee and you don’t want people to think your village is called Toes, I guess you would be annoyed.
We didn’t have time for me to capacitate him or the computer on this one, so we finished the letter. About this time, the local manager of the Water Utilities Corp who we just met with, along with two of the workers who must have just come along for the ride, on the way to somewhere else, showed up. They had arrived with the paperwork our chair had at some point filled out and thought she had done all she needed to. But no, she needed this letter we were getting along with yet another form, which they so kindly brought, but hadn’t bothered to mention to her before. We filled out the form using a seemingly random group decision making process about what information from whom should go where. (“Yeah, put his number there, and your name there, and what is your mother’s maiden name? Sure, put that there.”) I was assigned to do the writing but by this time have to admit I was pretty skeptical about what we were doing.
When all was said and done the form was completed in some fashion with the Disability Support Group not mentioned at all as responsible for a water bill (I am liking this, but doubt it will last). The three water guys headed off to Ramotswa with paperwork in hand promising to turn it in and get things moving. We need water at the site so the contractor can do the renovations to the building, including putting in a concrete disability ramp and he starts work on Saturday.
By now it is about 9 and I am sweating beyond normal. The only good thing about this heat that I am able to see at this point in time is that I no longer get annoyed and uncomfortable when my feet are too hot. Because they are now just part of a long list of body parts that are hot and when everything is that hot, they just don’t “stand out.” I head to the office and while my first thought is to remove all my clothing, and run through the sprinklers that are watering the cabbage in the field, I decide instead to check my email and talk to my boss, who is leaving town tomorrow for 10 days.
I spend the rest of the morning waiting for the okay from our granting agency to send out for bids for the buildings for the other support group in Mogobane. I also make the mistake of leaving my office to do something and come back to find they are interviewing one of what must now be 105 youth between the ages of 18 and 25 for 30 slots coming open for new trainees in December. I will eventually enter everyone in a database and see what we can learn about people with disabilities in this district.
What I haven’t quite understood is why I can’t quietly sit at my desk while they are doing the interviews. I miss most things, okay more than most things, anyway. So what harm do I cause? This was a surprise interview that meant my computer and all my work was in there and they went for a whopping hour plus. The kid must have been truly engaging. I had been able to grab a bag and my wallet because I thought I was going with the driver to Lobatse to shop for Saturday’s workshop I am doing. That was right before I was told that the driver had already left so I couldn’t go until later.
So I am sitting with nowhere to go, nothing to do. Can’t go shopping, Can’t get to my desk to work. I am ridiculously overheated and very annoyed at my being in the middle of a bunch of projects yet sitting outside unable to do any of them. I am also getting hungry, having skipped breakfast. And I have my wallet. So the only rational and productive thing to do at that point was to head over to the tea garden and have three scoops of ice cream, with whipped cream and a cherry on top. This is probably my up to now best moment of rational handling of a difficult situation. Look at me! I found the cure for impatience.
After that, I get back in my office, get the bid information out, prepare for my workshop some more, notify my Rotary club here that my Arcata club looks interested in pursuing the grant for the well for one of the support groups, start working on that documentation, and do a bunch of other needful things until at 3 p.m. I get to take a ride in a very hot vehicle to Lobatse to shop. At least I had control of my window, so got to enjoy the extremely warm breeze instead of a claustrophobic and boiling bus ride.
I shopped quickly and got back in time to do a few more things and get ready to head home at 5. A risky venture given the temperature, but I wanted gone. As I am walking home, there is a fairly strong breeze blowing towards me, and enough shady spots to make it okay that I can’t use the umbrella or even make good use of my hat due to that same wind. But it is making my skirt and slip blow up, so I stop to rearrange things.
After doing so I look up and see a fellow standing at his fence watching me. Well, heck if I get to watch them pee on the side of the road, a little skirt rearranging is a seemingly tame trade. Further along I run into the Support group’s secretary who needs more flyers for our planned clean- up day on the 19th. I happen to have a few so hand them over.
A bit further along I pass a house that usually doesn’t have much action at 5:30 on a Wednesday night, but the yard is full of people, mostly men. What is most challenging about this whole need to greet people and not seem rude thing is knowing when it is okay to not greet people and still not seem rude. I didn’t want to say hello, felt a bit silly and shy doing it, and once I realized they were all there to drink the traditional beer, knew that most likely they all had a bit of a buzz going and I didn’t know any of them so probably could have gotten away without a hello. Sadly, one of them called to me and I couldn’t tell him to take a hike in front of all these people, so had to wait for him to come over, greet me, shake my hand and then not let go. And then when I finally got it back into my possession he took it again.
He told me stories about his family being here forever and that his name was therefore John-John. I am sure I missed something there regarding the “because….therefore” sequence, but nevertheless, that is what it seemed he said. I then remembered seeing him on the other side of town, being way too friendly and probably drunk at that time as well. Unfortunately his home is a place I have to pass to get to the bus. But without a big crowd watching I think I can give him the slip more easily. No, not the one I am wearing. That would be the wrong message. (Two unintentional puns in one piece: I can only blame the heat that is frying the more sophisticated neurons in my brain and leaving me with, well, what I am left with.)
A bit further along I see what at first appears to be an amazing sight. I have come to the football pitch and am watching young kids playing football (soccer). They range in age from 8 or so up to 12 and from my faraway and culturally biased point of view, I am certain and delighted to see all these young girls playing soccer! Wow, that is great, who arranged this? Maybe I should volunteer to help! I walk a bit closer and watch a bit longer. Then I realize that my cultural bias has caused me to see something that isn’t there. I thought it was girls because of the amount of pink shirts, pants and shorts that were being worn by the players, who I realized now were all young boys. Kids here where whatever clothes fit them, and if they have an older sister or cousin who at some point had a pink piece of clothing and it now fits them, they will wear it. At least apparently while playing soccer. I haven’t seen a lot of boys wearing this stuff off the pitch - and thus my initial confusion.
I told my boss today that if it is this hot very often I will probably stay home and work from my slate floors (or actually not work but lay with my face and naked skin pressed hard against it). He said, “when it gets to be 40 Degrees like this that won’t even help.” Shit, is it really that hot today? I don’t feel so bad now. I mean, it wasn’t great, but I survived it. Okay, but for 3 or 4 months more? We will just have to see. There is another universal truth: every culture likes to complain about the weather. Yet I hear them all complaining, but still they are wearing long sleeves, suits, ties etc. and apparently not sweating. I look and feel like a wet mop. Probably, like learning a new language, I have just not practiced being hot enough yet.
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