On this grey day

I woke up to a grey, smoke-filled day,  missing home a bit. The weather looks as though it might rain. As my grandma Cricket used to say, “shit or get off the pot..” I would always laugh, and I am smiling as I write this. She also used to say, ‘you’d loose your head if it wasn’t tacked on.‘ I laugh now in reflecting back, but most of the time it used to make me mad. SO I’m a multi, multi-tasker.

My neighbor, Emanuel, sure sounds African doesn’t it, who lives in the 8 x 8 room under the top level of the water tank with Saiid, has moved all of the trash and yard mulch out near the side of the road, and has set it aflame.  It smells so fresh and wonderful! Ha! Yes, this is how we rid of our garbage. We either bury or burn it.

The day after I moved in I asked Ester where I could put my garbage and compost and she pointed to the big pi full of plastic, metal, trash, cement blocks and an occasional pecking hen, and said that I should throw it there. I was a little set aback, even though I had seen the trash pile, the day before. I didn’t know at the time that once it got full you would burn it. This pile is about 12 feet from my front door near a lovely palm tree that must just love this weekly occurrence of cleansed, oxygenated smoke.

My yard it full of these gorgeous, stunning trees that breathe with energy and vitality. I am not sure the English name but in Swahili they are called Mkungu. I also have two hugo cocunut trees and quite a few baby palms. The palms had just been planted when the other day some cows barged in while on their way out to graze, and munched them all up in about 3 minutes flat. I couldn’t believe it. I watched from my bedroom window as the boy lost control of about 5 cows and a few goats and they came right into our yard and straight to the newly planted palms and ate them all up. I was so pissed off. Fat cows! I wanted to say something but I didn’t know what to say in Swahili. Saiid ran out and started, I assume, cursing in Swahili. It wasn’t the boys fault, actually, because the cows had run ahead of the pack and found heir way through our gate, which really isn’t a gate because there is no closer – just cement walls.  Welcome one, welcome all.

Right under one of the beautiful trees is where we do our laundry.  It is about 20 feet from my house. The first day I ventured out to do some hand washing, my morning workout - no joke- and I thought about how this lovely tree gets to absorb all of this grey water from our bleach, soap-ridden laundry. I felt horrible knowing I am contributing to our Earths suffering; yet there is nothing I can do. The water spout is right there, next to a few cement blocks and a log that you can sit on while scrubbin’, rinsin’ and washin’ away.  

Once again, contributing to another vicious cycle(s).