So whilst all you people at home have been blessing the warm sunshine and good weather I’ve been stove-drying my shoes, wearing wellies to school (emblazoned with pink climbing roses!)and wondering if I’ll wear something other than water proof trousers and rain coat ever again. At the back of the house, where my room happens to be, there has been a landslide. At the front of the house a huge wall, that was supposed to be holding the bank up on which our house sits , has collapsed into the house below’s front yard, which in turn is looking decidedly castle-like with it’s moat of muddy water surrounding it. Oh, and we’ve had an attempted break in so now we are not only a quagmire of clay landslides and muddy puddles but we’re also beginning to resemble fort knocks. There are four nails of the front gate which move back and forwards to keep the gate shut and outsiders out and a padlock too. Then we have two front doors which are locked and then padlocked on top of that. There is a key for every room in the house and an unnecessary number of doors which only serve to bump, bruise, fly back, rebound, jam, or catch you as you walk by. Architectural design is not a highlight of the house, and probably wasn’t a major consideration when the house was under construction. In fact, when putting up my mosquito net in the first week of arrival, we discovered the ceiling in my room was a foot higher than the ceiling in Catherine’s room (and we live in a bungalow!!!)
Yesterday , I truly discovered ‘the wet season’..it's wet. Very wet, and with the rain comes the mud and with the mud comes the slipping and with the slipping becomes embarrassment and strange contortions of the body. I don't understand how it rains in England and I cope, it rains here and I look like a women wearing a dustbin bag, who is incapable of keeping upright and who has to have her shoes washed every other day because she can't seem to keep herself clean!!! I had to wring my tights out today, the feet part, I was so soggy. And I lost my shoe....somehow managed to fling it into a brown puddle too far away (and too dangerous to hop to), so had to walk shoeless to retrieve it. Chose a stupid alternative route to the house as wel , just as the heavens opened. Found myself with an audience (comme d'habitude!) as I hurtled down a sheer mud and clay slope, slipping and sliding uncontrollably, talking to myself in an attempt not to go arse over tit (as the English so elegantly put it!), unable to chose my step carefully and knowing the only option left was to run and hope for the best. I got a round of applause when I reached the bottom in my stupid little white ballet pumps and dustbin bag waterproofs! Was actually secretly a little impressed with the performance as I was sure I was going to go over and be the muddy muzungu that everyone has to help up and bash down with clothes and sluice down with water. It’s happened I’m afraid.
And today...Today I discovered just how slippery mud can be. And wet clay. It’s dangerous stuff, especially when you discover that the back tyre on the moto you’re riding daily is completely bald. And I don’t mean bald by MOT standards, I mean, bald as in bald man’s head, baby’s bottom, not a tread in sight kind of bald. The driver discovered without having to actually looks at his tyre this when I leapt off at the first moment of slippage, before the bike had even stopped and absolutely refused point blank to re-mount. He tried to continue only to discover that the bikes rear end had a life of it’s own and was happily going to slide and slither without any hope of ever getting a grip again. He got the message when I pointed at the tyre with great hand-flailing exclamations and head shaking disappointment. Needless to say, when he picked me up at the end of the day there was a brand new tyre to welcome me. Even walking had been close to impossible, despite lovely pink and grippy wellies! Must have been a sight. Had to take a route down the valley, across the fields and up the other side to get to my school. This alone was challenging. Mud does not like you to stay upright, clay has even firmer ideas about whether you’ll keep you’re footing and steep down hills and even steeper up hills do not add happily to the mix. I confess to grappling with a few trees and making small ardent prayers about not falling in front of the head teacher or a huddle of school children. Luckily, all was worthwhile, mud, rain, bald tyres and all. My day was fantastically rewarding. Another one of those “Ohhh, that’s why I do this!” days.
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| Shoe drying inventions - desperate times lead to desperate measure. Both pairs wet, neither pair showing any potential for drying in the past two days. The whole world is just too soggy. And I can't live in wellies and walking boots! |
