on building toilets and goodbyes

7/30/2010

Yesterday, while Stephen, Ryan the Intern, and Hameed (new vet on staff!) were being attacked by wasps while collecting gorilla poo in the forest, I was constructing a latrine and being accosted by Batwa women who wanted their sons to marry me.

Day in the life.

The latrine-building process was facilitated by a dude named Tor (although I thought his name was ‘Thor’ for the longest time and had trouble picturing him as anything other than a Viking before I met him.) Tor is with the California rotary and will be here building latrines until December. He was staying in the same guesthouse as Dr. Lynne and Dr. Amy and they gave me his number to contact him about hygiene and sanitation stuff. After a few missed connections, we finally met on the road in the middle of nowhere. Alex had stopped the boda-boda to talk to someone and this rotary car drove up with a white guy driving.

“Where you headed?” my fellow mzungu said.

“Back to the CTPH camp,” I said.

“Are you Melinda?” he asked, as if he were a great prophet.

“Are you Thor?” I asked.

“Tor,” he said.

And so it began. Somehow I volunteered myself to go build latrines in the mountains with a dude named Tor.

I believe I had somehow convinced Tor that I was an expert craftswoman through my stories of doing drywall, insulation, and cement mixing on my two alternative spring break trips to Louisiana and El Salvador. I don’t know what he expected of my skills, but I can bet that he was disappointed. Try as I might to spackle the latrine floor with cement to press down the wire mesh, the mesh would spring back up every time, and eventually some other dude just started working in my spot and I was shamefully exiled. So I became the cement woman (“omishenyi nyabo”) and it was my job to slop handfuls of cement onto the latrine floor for the other men to spread. I then became the water woman and poured water from a large plastic jug (called a “jerry can”) into one cup for all the men to share. I also carried a bag of sand across the valley at one point, and carried a 2 by 4 across the other side again on my head, like a legit African nyabo. Except that the dudes told me I looked dumb, or that I was going to hurt myself (I can’t speak Rukiga) and told me to carry it on my shoulder, which turned out to be a lot more painful than the head-carrying method, actually. I also ate posho and beans, true African-style, which means that we cooked it in a pot outside and ate it with our hands in a circle. Past me from about 7 years ago would have had a heart attack.

It was a satisfying day, besides the scary part when the small Batwa woman came up to me and flung her arms around my waist while apparently telling me to get in her house so she could marry me off to one of her sons. She then followed the car when Tor drove me back to Buhoma, wearing an open button-down shirt and a red bra. She spoke to Tor for a few minutes and then he drove away.

“What was that all about?” I asked.

“Nothing. That’s what that was about,” Tor said in a way that only a guy named Tor can.

Sometimes, questions just aren’t answered in Uganda. I’m becoming okay with that.
Dr. Amy left today, which was sad. I like Dr. Amy a lot. She shares my sense of sarcasm and we were able to commiserate about our experiences of being strangers in a strange land. She also left me with two books to read, which I am incredibly grateful for since I finished The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo two nights ago (you should read it!!).

Today was also filled with a lot of motorbike riding. Alex and I rode out to Kanungu, which took 2 hours to get to, had a 30-minute meeting with the district health inspector, and then rode 2 hours back. Got some good notes, but my butt is still uncomfortably numb.

Ryan the Intern leaves tomorrow (or Sunday? Who knows?), along with Hameed and Stephen, which effectively leaves me as the only non-worker staying here at the campsite. It will be interesting eating by myself and having nobody to talk to about the giant bug that I attacked in my tent, or the texture of cow crap, or the importance of buying locally-grown produce. I salute you, Ryan and Hameed (if you even read this?). You are both extremely knowledgeable and cool guys, and I know that you’re both going to be awesome veterinarians.

I have no idea what’s going on next week, but I’m making an effort to stay in the present. Therefore, everything is completely right with the world, because I am predicting fresh avocado on my plate at dinner and a nice long reading session before bed.