A surprise visit from the lovely “Mama Masai”

Today I was feeling a little sad, for a few reasons and as I walked home I was drifting off into daydreams and thinking about life. As I walked into my yard I noticed this pretty woman sitting under one of the trees in my yard, and along side her was my friend and Masai guard Manuel. 

I assumed it might be his mother because the night I got back from Spain, a few days ago, Manuel had told me, and Rosemary translated for me, that his mother was very sick and came from Arusha to go to the hospital in Dar Es Salaam. I couldn’t understand when he was trying to explain the sickness she was suffering from because he kept pointing to her breasts and my heart sank because I thought he was trying to explain that she had breast cancer. Rosemary wasn’t around so I didn’t know what was wrong with her, all that I knew was that she made a n 8 hour bus ride all the way from Arusha, which is about 1 ½ hours outside of Ngorongoro Crator Conservation Area, and an area where many Masai live.

My heart went out to Manuel because even though I couldn’t tell exactly what he was saying I could see the pain and hurt in his eyes and my heart went out to him. He told me that he wanted to go and visit her in the hospital but that he didn’t have enough money for the ride and or food to send for her.
I immediately gave him 10,000 shillings, about 8 $8.00 so he could go visit her. I imagine she felt so alone coming all the way away from her family and tribe. The wonderful thing is that Manuel’s brother came to visit last week and has been here ever since so in a way it was goo timing for her to come to the hospital.

That night Manuel returned home, in a round about, Swahili way, which I so desperately tried to understand, and in doing so I broke out my dictionary because I didn’t want to miss anything, and my translator :) Rosemary wasn’t home. The jist of our conversation was that his mother was in the hospital, and I couldn’t tell what for and that she would be coming to Bagamoyo to rest/sleep. I asked him where she was coming to because as he was telling me this I was thinking, ‘where will him mother sleep and rest , on the street, under the tree in my yard? I couldn’t understand him. He
pointed to town, and I assumed she would be staying some where with the other Masai tribes.  I now realize he was talking about the bus station station. The dalla-dallas(buses) are a wild ride, I like to call it. Public bus/transit system for most Tanzanian’s. They pack full like sardines and make about 10 stops before hitting Bagamoyo. They are hot and sweaty. The experience is like riding the subway at rush-hour, but it is like rush hour every time of day, only it’s a bus and it is cruising down the road dodging bicyclists, goats, cows and pedestrians all along the way. I couldn’t imagine this sick women having to endure the ride.

Today when I saw her sitting under the tree with her posture held as dignified as she possibly had the energy to do so, yet her head hung low and as I looked into her eyes I sensed her body and soul were hurting. I smiled at her as she looked at me with uncertainty. I walked up to her and one of Manuel’s friends who was sitting with her, on card board boxes, which they use as pads and or protection from the ground. They keep them up in the tree branches so no one throws them away. One day I looked up in my tree and wondered what the heck they were and what the heck were they doing up in the tree. I was dumbfounded, to say the least, until that same day I saw a few of the guys napping under the tree on about 4 flattened boxes. I looked up in the tree and realized what they were.

I greeted her and welcomed her in Swahili because Masai speak a little Swahili and their own language. I wanted to ask if she was Manuel’s mother so the boy that was sitting next to her
tried to translate in broken English/Swahili and I found out that yes, it was his mother. He was sitting under the other tree with about 5 other Masai while they were all chatting and cooking over the fire. He came over and introduced me to her. I was proud to be able to meet her. I felt saddened and immediately thought of what she might need or how I could help her, without disrespecting her state of illness, in any manner. I asked Manuel if she would like some food and water and he said yes, so I whipped some up and took it out to her. I peeped out of the window as she ate and drank the water; all the while she sat up straight and tall. I wasn’t sure what to do. She spoke very little Swahili so I
had a difficult time communicating with her so I would go and get Manuel. When that didn’t work because of the language barrier. Today I could feel the barrier like no other day. I wanted to know what was wrong with her health. I went and got Rosemary, who had just arrived home, and asked her to come and talk with Manuel and myself. Long story short she had pneumonia and came to Bagamoyo from the hospital in Dar because she can no longer afford to pay for the hospital stay. Once again, my heart sank.  He said they don’t have enough money to do X-Rays and won’t for about a month. I am gong to ask around at how much they might cost and see what we can all do to help.

I went inside and looked around for anything that might make her more comfortable. Keep in mind she is used to living in a mud hut with dirt floors, on a little bed made from cowhides. I looked out my window and she was humming a song. The Masai are always humming and or singing. I felt sad.

Then I noticed that Manuel was laying down a piece of foam outside my house, near this shed which sits just under this majestic palm tree. There next to the foam was something blue in a plastic bag. I went outside to look and it was a mosquito net to place over her while she slept. I’m thinking, OMG this sick woman has to lay on the ground, when she is feeling so sick and try to sleep. The settling thing is that she truly is used to these conditions, although there is no roof over her head.

I went back inside and paced my floor. ‘Should I bring another blanket, and as I looked outside to check on her again, I noticed the boys had brought her a blanket. So I decided to turn to some light African music to help sooth her soul or at least break up the nice form the kids yelling next door. Tonight she will sleep under my patio because it is really warm out. Here is this part of me where I want to ask her to sleep inside but I am a little afraid. Afraid of what, I’m not sure Manuel always sleeps out there so I think she will be comfortable. I will ask Rosemary what she thinks.

It is hard to watch another soul suffer just because they don’t have the money to pay for a hospital and or medicine, let alone and X-ray. Hundreds of people die everyday because they can’t afford healthcare even if it is a minor illness, or an illness that perpetuates into a serious condition due to the fact that they can’t sop it before it gets to a point of no return. I just want to cry. I wish I could reach out to her. I suppose I am reaching out to her in the only way that I know how – by surrounding her space with as much love and light that I can offer.

I’ll pray for her tonight.

 

 

Taking the time to see and experience all that is life

Life in Bagamoyo is full of seeing and or experiencing something new every day and especially if you really take the time to LOOK. Isn’t that what life is truly all about. I sure think so!

Today I woke up and hit the gym. Well my gym is out on my porch under this magnificent coconut tree that offers its shade with love and grace. I work out about 3 times a week and I start my routine running on the beach around 7:30 or 8:00, if I’m luck then I pump-it-up J well just a little.

I brought an exercise ball and rubber arm bands from the states because I knew I would want to continue to exercise and I knew there wasn’t any type of gym or equipment here. The closest thing I have seen to weights is this awesomely creative work-bench that Saiid and Emanuel created behind my house. Every morning or late in the evening I would here this knocking sound and the sound of someone either trying to go to the bathroom in a serious way, or someone doing some heavy lifting of some sort. So the next day I went outside and to my surprise I saw the most creative workout bench I have ever seen. It was a 1’ x 5’ board that was sitting on top of a 3 x 3 foot statue of an African man’s head and chest, and quite a dignified looking man too all buttoned up in a suit and bow tie and here to lend a hand, I mean head.  On the other side was a bunch of cement blocks and rocks. I thought to myself ‘how cool is this’ I love it! I did wonder what these guys did o keep so fit.

So today I started our running around my yard in circles – just kidding – I did lunges, squats and arm exercises. In doing so, I started to look all around me in all directions. I noticed a boy and girl all dressed up in their school uniforms looking at me inquisitively with total interest at what I was doing through the bushes, from the inside of the doorway. When they noticed me I greeted them and they shyly moved into the house giggling, as they always do when I’m working out. They are two of the cute orphans next door. In total I think there are about 10 children. At the same time I hear the goats goatin’ away inside the shack that belongs to the orphanage. This truly is a ‘shack” of all shacks. It is made from metal roofing, sticks and boards. This is also where they keep their hens, roosters and baby chickies. It is completely dark with no windows. I always feel like I want to go over there and let them free out of the darkness they are succumbed to. I know I know it is the way it goes. I still feel badly though.

All of a sudden the boys let the goats out to take them to the pasture right behind my house to graze. Here they come, four of them marching right into my yard, so darn cute that I want to go pet them. They go straight for the bushes that separate our houses and start munching away on the shrubbery then the boys whistle for them to move along.

Then right after them come all the chickies, about 5 chirping away with a couple hens scuttling into my yard as well and settle up on the mound of sand to squat in the shade with the two neighborhood doggies. This all took place while I had my stretchy bands wrapped around the coconut tree. I wanted to try something different today, and I love this tree so I thought what would it hurt if I used my bands around the tree instead of my porch beams. Well is could be me if a big fat coconut fell from the tree right on my head. It provided such a beautiful overhead view, with the sunlight shining through the leaves that were swaying in the breeze, helping to keep me cool.

As I moved around the coco tree to face I now faced the banana tree and I smiled at the little hiding spot my masai has created to keep his bedding and special items. One night he had a headache and I gave him some aspirin to keep. I had placed it in some tin foil for safe keeping. The next day I was pruning the tree and I noticed that he had put it inside the banana tree under some leaves. It looks like a little cocoon. It really is a great place where no one will look.  

As I continued my workout I noticed the cows and goats grazing back behind my house in this lovely field. As I’m enjoying taking in the view, my neighbor boy next door comes into my yard. He is just such a good boy and so darn cute. He runs little errand for us from time to time for about 1000tsh(a dollar) a pop.  Rosie, my friend and neighbor told me I don’t need to pay him, but I like to, and I notice she does at times too. So, here he comes and then I see him throw a rock and I walk around to see what he is throwing it at, I’m hoping not one of the dogs, and damnit, I look over and the little black doggie with the lopsided ear, who always makes me smile when I think how silly and cute he looks, is now crouching from the GD neighbor boy. I looked at him and asked, no told, him to please not throw rocks at the dog. No wonder all the damn dogs are so scared to come near people. He said ‘ok’, and walked off.

I continued on as two of my Masai friends, who have set up camp in my large compound area(yard), come back to camp. They sweetly greet me, as always and then sit under the tree. Their camp is a little shelter they have made under one of the big trees in the corner of my yard. I will write a story about Heidi’s Camp Masai another time. It is awesome how they have come to land in my yard. All my Masan’s friends now have a place to sleep, cook and hang out. I am quite impressed with how they have simply, yet creatively built a nice little space. See many of the Masai don’t have a place of their own to stay. They leave their families, usually from Arusha, in search of work. So this means they come and don’t have a place to live. They “squat” wherever they can, and it is usually in town on the street, and if they are lucky enough some people take them in and provide food and shelter in exchange for their services. Usually which are for being their day and night guards. Or, they proudly fend for themselves. They mean age is, I would guess, 22-25. Such amazing, resourceful people. I just love the Masai. I really enjoy having them around and I feel much safer because they all keep an eye out for me. Such good-hearted, sweet souls.

Pretty interesting hour of exercise, I’d say.  I’m feeling incredibly grateful for this wonderful day.

Let’s keep drumming: stay off the schoolgirl

Today as I was enjoying my morning cup of java and reading  the newspaper. As I pages through, the headline for the article above caught my attention. I thought, ‘what could this article be about; hmm drumming? Maybe schoolgirls want to take drumming lessons but they aren’t allowed to like the boys.  Or maybe, let the girls keep moving up in the world so let’s cut them some slack. What do you think?

Oh, by the way, I read The Gaurdian which is a Tanzanian newspaper written purely in English. Yeah!!! I do enjoy reading the paper and being that I don’t have a TV that can get any TV stations on and can olnlay watch movies, which is actually a good thing, I can get my news fill from the paper. I am quite intrigued at the way the global news is not only translated, I like hearing about the news around the world through the eyes of Tanzanians.  We don’t get a skewed perspective of the American media here, yet I do notice slanted messages and or stories that are clearly “tip-toeing” around political, social, religious, racial and or gender issues. Of course, it happens in every country around the world.

I found myself noticing while reading through this story how the writer, who is a woman, would take mental pauses, staying tactful and poised, and on par with the content of this story without getting to reactive and anger-ridden. If you read between the lines you totally get the message being conveyed. And, it makes one feel disgusted, saddened, outraged, and surprised, all in one.

It brings into perspective the many things I was wondering about the beautiful female children, soon-to-be women, in Africa. My heart goes out to many of them. And I am grateful and happy for the ones that break through to become the women they so CHOOSE to be.

As I read past the headline to the subhead I started to grasp the meaning of the article. And when I took in the image of two young girls, the age of my niece, who is 13, my heart paused and I took a deep breath.

I want to share a “paired-down version” of the story, paragraph by paragraph with you because it has affected me. It has answered a few unanswered questions about the young girls I see, talk to, share glances with and or just walk by each day. I want to be clear that this is not in regard to every young girl in Tanzania, but the unfortunate ones.

Parents should do whatever it takes to protect their children. The children’s security – and their future – lies in the parents’ hands. That is the first responsibility of parents and they should not be compromised over it by anybody with moneybags or a zipper they can’t control…

‘Parents should never negotiate with men who make school “children” pregnant. It  should be every parent’s wish to see that the “men” who cannot keep their hands off of schoolgirls should get what they deserve.’

Basically there is a region in Tanzania, called Morogoro, which is about a four hour bus ride from Bagamoyo and this is where they brought into the light this dark situation. A total of 218 girls dropped out of schools, and 130 left school due in last two years because of pregnancy. Mind you, these girls are as young as 12-16. Baby girls, shining with light and they are in school for goodness sake. A pure insult to these young girls who are taken advantage of by men who are much older than them, their teachers, TEACHERS!!!!, who hasten to offer money and other items to girl’s parents so that the scandal can be “hushed up.”

These poor girls suffer the consequences for the rest of their precious lives.  Not only have they been forced into sexual abuse, which is just saddening and unacceptable, but also they will miss out on their education and job opportunities, which will be very limited, or non-existent. What type of future does this hold for our beautiful young girls! This is now a young girls who has to become a mother and how long can she depend on her family for support. Many of these girls parents have a difficult time even sending their children to school in the first place.

These men completely turn their backs on the situation. “These men should face the full force of the law and this should be done transparently. Here is where the media should step in.” Hell yes they should. They are raping young women for gawd sake and these men are getting away with it. And they are doing so by negotiating with the child’s PARENTS.  

Ok I am taking a few deep breaths… “actually the more important or highly placed in his community the man is, the more important it is for him to be exposed for having ruined a child’s life. It would send a powerful message to the same ilk if communities make concerted efforts to ensure justice.”

“Furthermore, parents who agree to take money from these men and then forget about the whole matter should remember that they are putting greed firmly in front of their daughters’ lives. And if the daughters never forgive them, it would be totally understandable.” We look to our parents for absolute protection, without them whom do we have as young children to look to? These p arents are ones who chose to bring a child into this life in the first place. They are abandoning her choice on what she wants to create for her future in this life.

“Schools can also do a lot to protect girls from these type of men. Teachers can talk about how important it is to keep away from men who are suspicious even when they are relatives. The world has changed totally and even relatives and family friends can no longer be trusted.

Parents too, especially mothers can help steer their children in the right direction by warning them of the pitfalls they are likely to encounter on their way to adulthood.  What is annoying to almost every right-thinking person is that the men, who should now better than to go after schoolgirls, do this and actually continue to get away with this behavior.

Parents should do whatever it takes to protect their children. The children’s security and their future lie in their parent’s hands. That is the first responsibility of parents and they should not be compromised over it by anybody with moneybags or a zipper they can’t control.”

I find this article is the first step at shedding some light on situation that affects the young women of our and Africa's future. I chose to share this article with you today because I felt compelled to bring this issue and the innocents who become exposed to such a shadow, as far into the light as possible. 

Heid’s camp Masai

I laugh as I write this because, as my grandmother Cricket used to say, ‘it just tickles me.’ And it does so because I just realized I have manifested something very cool.

I first came to learn of the Masai culture and people when I came to Bagamoyo my first visit. To be honest I hadn’t heard of them until I came to Africa, or until I read about them prior to coming. My first experience in meeting a Masai was when I was teaching one day at Umoja – the group of artists I taught sales, marketing and promotional techniques and English to, back in December of 2008. I was in the middle of talking when this young man quietly walked up and took a seat with my other students. I welcomed him and asked his name. I spoke in Swahili because he spoke ZERO English. I kept stealing glances because he looked so interesting and COOL in such an earthy, colorful and tribal way. He was beautiful with his warrior-like appearance and his raw confident energy filled with wisdom beyond his years. I guess he was in his early 20’s. I was quite intrigued.  He wore his chukka and knife strapped to his side with pride and dignity. He sat for a few minutes and then left not to be seen again during my stay.

As I am sitting here on my porch writing this story Manuel, my Masai guard, is looking over my shoulder at what I am writing. He can’t read Swahili, let alone English so I told him I am writing about the Masai and he smiled huge.

I knew I would see the Masai in their true habitat when I would travel to the Ngorongoro
area for safari. As we drove along the region I was mesmerized by what I saw. I was drawn to the way the Masai lived, in their villages, doma’s(mud huts) and how they lived and harvested the land. They truly were salt of the earth. The women were adorned with all their tribal jewelry and dresses. The women were quite stand-offish I think because one, they didn’t speak English and two, because they have been so exploited over the years by foreigners who come and photograph them, write books on their people and culture, make millions and don’t give ANYTHING back to the people. Now they have been taught to stand up for themselves and they charge money for you to come to their villages and see their life. It is a win-win for all. I think… Which is why they do not like their pictures taken, unless, of course, you offer them money.

One of my most memorable and unforgettable moments was when I went to the Masai village on the last day of my safari journey. I met the men, women and children of this remote group of villages in the Ngorongoro conservative area. I asked my friend Eddy to please take us to a place where there were no tourists other than myself, so I could really see how they live and breath. I wanted and authentic experience and I sure got it. I got a tour of their homes, inside and out, I listened to the women, Eddy translated because he lives in a Masai area, while they spoke of the jewelry they made. The all came out to show me their creations and I was happy to buy their designs.

Two Masai took me around their property and explained how the animals grazed and they showed me many of the medicinal plants for the animals and people. It was so cool. I felt so grateful for the experience. I was just curious so I asked them if I could come and live with them. They told me yes I could although I would have to live completely like a Masai. THEY welcomed me. I smiled, and thought to myself, ‘this would be cool for a week and then I don’t think I could handle it for too long. Dirt floors, flies, bugs, mud huts no shower or toilet. I did think it would be cool one day.

Well my thinking seems to have manifested in another way because now the Masai are living with me on my land. Very cool how it all turned out and I get to live in my cozy house and still experience how they live, in a round-about way.

Manuel, is my Masai who left his family, wife and two children to come in search of work. I think he has been here for a few months and I need to ask him when he will go home. It is hard to communicate with him, so I use my neighbor Rosie next door when I really need to communicate with him. Masai have their own language so it can be difficult to talk with him. He speaks great Kiswahili, yet he mixes it at times with Masai.

We have become friends and he is quite protective of me. He is a sweetie. Once day I was reading my dictionary so I could tell him something and he took it and started to look it over. I went inside and when I came out I noticed he was trying to read it upside down. Bless his heart. He doesn’t know how to read. I turned it around like it was nothing and continued to talk to him.

Within a few weeks Heidi’s Camp Masai began. It started while Sutton and I went to safari and Zanzibar. I paid my Masai extra to watch my house day and night and he told me that while he slept he would have his friends watch my house. Awesome! So when I came home

Camp was all set up and still is. J My Masai told me the other day that he was going to be sad when I leave and that he will miss me and that he was worried about finding more work. My heart felt sad at the thought of saying goodbye. I don’t like to think about it. I like my little community here.

And, I just made a connection. The other night Manuel was braiding one of his friend’s hair on my front porch, they are great braiders and this is how some of them make money, and it was the guy who I met that day while teaching. Full circle, in more ways than one. 

My first day of Kiswahili

Starts tomorrow and I'm excited about this. I am dying to communicate better with everyone. Although I am learning fast, I want to learn all the proper grammar and sentence structure. I try to speak Swahili as much as I possibly can. Sometimes it takes too much energy to think, and I revert back to English.  

Richard will be my teacher. He is a fine gentleman with a great vibe and is quite smart and well put together. He currently teaches at one of the secondary schools, and teaches on the side, as well. He speaks 4 languages, Swahili, English, Spanish and French. He also teaches Gifty, my adorable neighbor girl who I will write about soon. Love her!!

I think I will take 2 classes a week. Not sure how much each class will be yet. He asked me to give him a price that I feel comfortable with. I will consult my friends. 

Hakuna matata! 

Getting around

In Bagamoyo, there are a many bicycles and motorcycles, few cars and Bijaji’s(like a took-took), and primarily a lot of foot traffic, all sharing the same small two-way, dirt roads. Most people walk to get every where so I have been walking far and wide to get every where. It can wear you out, especially when it is 85 degrees and 200% humidity. I live about 20 minutes from downtown Baga, so I find myself walking quite a bit. I know, I know it is the healthy alternative, but after two weeks of walking I decided to get my nerve up to hop on the back of a moto bike. You see people cruising on them everywhere with a man or woman sitting side-saddle style and at times riding normal style. Some times you see a driver and two passengers on one moto and on bikes too.

The other day I whistled one down. Well I tried to whistle and ended up spitting all over myself. Where was Sutton when I needed him. He must have seen my lips puckering up because he quickly turned around. I had a skirt on so I sat for a quick second trying to decide if I should sit like normal or ride like a girl, no a lady. I decided to ride like Heidi. I put my skirt between my legs and saddled-up. I don’t know why it took me so long grab a ride because it is so much quicker and only cost 1000 tsh, about .80 . I still enjoy walking but if I go to the market or just don’t feel like walking I hitch a ride. 

Bijaji’s are awesome too, especially when you are carrying a lot of stuff or if you are with another person. They cost 1000tsh-1500 depending. I have my Bijaji, taxi, bike and moto guys that I can call any time. I tip really well, an extra  500-1000 TSH and they love it. Most people don’t tip here. After working in the restaurant/bar business, you learn how wonderful it is to get great tips, and how much better service you give when you get them. 

It is wise to create a little, no a lot of loyalty around baga town!!!

The art of washing on, washing off and wringing out

Ahh the ritual of hand-washing. Last night I was talking to Sutton on the phone and he said, “honey, how am I going to do my laundry?” I said, “baby you have to hand-wash it.” And he paused and said, “I guess I won’t be doing too much laundry.” I laughed. We will see about that!

I have to admit I actually quite like getting up in the morning and doing my laundry. You need to set aside around and hour and a half, depending on your load size and any size here is a large load in terms of hand washing.  (smile) I absolutely appreciate the men and women who do their own laundry by hand. It really is “work.’ I am starting to get my technique down, that is for sure. I have watched a few of the girls and damn, they have it down to a science from the washing to the wringing. I have hand washed on camping trips and at Burning Man so I thought, ‘it’ll be a piece of cake.’ Cake, how I would love a delicious, big piece of chocolate cake with rich-n-creamy, cream cheese frosting. Mmmmmmm. Ok, back to laundry. 

I bought a big washing bowl, about 2 1/2 feet, some powder soap, because my liquid Woolite exploded in my luggage - what a pain in my ass that was - and some bleach.  The washing is the easy part, but then you have to wring out each piece really well, and set it in a separate bucket so you only have to fill the wash bowl one more time, in order to save time and save water. Once you wring it out you rinse it in fresh water and then your rinse it out again and wring it out again. Oh, wait; let’s go back to the washing part. I take back that this is easy. Now I understand the use of a washboard, which I never understood. I used to think about how much that must wear out your clothing and how difficult it appeared to be. I learned fast because when you have sort of dirt you need to scrub it out because a little swirl-around in the water isn’t going to cut it, and, you need a surface to scrub on

Wash on wash off. You have to let your clothing soak, and scrub each piece together to lather it up and get the dirt out. If the dirt isn’t coming out then you have to use a brush to brush it out. I saw the girls doing this, and caught on REAL fast. At first I thought, ‘that is going to ruin my clothing,’ and then I realized it is the quick solution to getting CLEAN clothing. I use the side of my bucket or put it on my own washboard, the log, just near the tree. I love such modern conveniences. I really do!

Rinsing off and wringing out. This is work and I have learned a great technique. Now I can wring out a pair of jeans in no time. Jeans and towels suck because they are so heavy. By the time I am done, I feel a heat stroke coming on. No, I am only kidding…

Hanging to dry. This is my favorite part because I feel like I’m running a 10K, and I am nearing the finish line. I also like the idea of the sun and fresh breeze drying my clothing. Unless, of course, it rains ½ hour after you have spent the past 1 1/2 hours washing/wringing. Things could be worse, right? !

We all share a clothing line that goes in between my and Rosemary’s house. It is a cord that crudely ties from the cement fence behind my house to the front porch area, and attaches to the top of the shed in front of my house. There is a stick/pole in the middle for added support. Sometimes Ester and the boys hang their clothing on  all the tall bushes that separate both yards if the clothing line is maxed-out. Talk about “ber-ner-ner-ner, ber-ner-ner-ner-ner ner-ner – the Samford and Son song comes to my mind, and makes me laugh. I choose not to air my laundry this way.

I really do enjoy the hand-washing ritual, and I have to say I bet my laundry hasn’t ever been this clean.