A week ago, I was walking along
the road on my way back from Saturday work at the church and I suddenly
stopped. In front of me there stood a normal-size house with a small square
green front lawn. It completely baffled me, and then I felt more confused wondering
why it had. I’m sure it seemed strange that a lone mzungu was just standing in
the middle of the street staring at a random house, but I lingered to inspect
the scene more. I looked around and noticed that there was freshly turned dirt
along the border of the lawn and on the side rested old metal and bricks- the
remnants of their wall of fencing. It slowly came into clearer focus why this
was all so interesting: the house looked like any house on any street back home
in the US. Just there, unprotected by any wall or fence. I could actually see
its green lawn and small shrub of pink flowers, which was what had confused me
first. A green lawn instead of dirt
or cement or mud. But I have a green lawn in my little plot around my house, so
why was this different? Because I could see
it. Every house here sits behind tall walls of security and secrecy. Either
that or it will be a house made of mud, cardboard, or dung. A house with cement
floors, however, well that’s worth protecting from peeping and hungry eyes. This
house had nothing to hide behind while they were repairing its walls. “Imagine
that,” I thought, “A house with a little lawn just sitting for everyone to see….
Just like at home.”
A week ago, the rains really
started. I’ve been training to run a 5k, however, so as I stared out the
windows of my warm cozy music room I considered the pros and cons of running in
the heavy rain that afternoon. “Common,
just do it!” my audacious piano student urged me, knowing I had been training
and knowing what was going through my mind at that moment. So, after her lesson
I tied up my shoes and splashed into the wet grass and mud. By my fifth lap
around the track I was feeling thirsty, so I randomly opened my mouth to the
heavens to get a taste of rain. But suddenly I stopped myself, and then I had
to stop and wonder why I stopped myself. Well, the water here is often not safe
for me to drink- the water from the river, the water from the tap, the water
from the shower. I remember back home in the US sometimes I would drink the
water falling down from above in the shower. Maybe this is odd, I have no idea,
as I’ve never really discussed it with any one. But at least you know that if
you accidentally get some water in your mouth it’s not a big deal. But here,
when in the shower, I keep my mouth closed tight because I don’t want to end up
not feeling well from the water. So as I stood in my grey, damp clothes in the
rain, I thought what a sad thing it is that my instinct is to assume the fresh
rain toxic. And then I thought… isn’t this something? This clean water leaves
its burdened cloud, plummets for miles in the sky clean and pure, and the
moment it hits the earth here, it becomes septic. But, as I opened my mouth
once again and felt the rain on my face, I decided I would at least get to save
a few of these clean drops.
If you haven’t seen this awesome
video from the fabulous Bienmoyo Foundation and the song that I wrote for them, please
check it out:
In other news, I go home for Christmas
on Wednesday and I couldn’t be more excited.
