cleaning

My mom called me a few days ago to tell me that my father and her had watched a movie where a man travels to some remote locations turns on the faucet and brown water comes rushing out. This apparently upset my mother thinking of me all the way in Burkina, and it is not unlike my parents to watch some atrocious movie the week I leave for Africa, last time it was Taken, just the name should tip you off. I told my mother not to worry that my pipes were clean, or so I thought. After a SEVEN-hour power out, water shortage the electricity is finally back on. While it was cooler in my house than outside it was still a boiling 93 degrees inside. Never in my life have I experienced such painful boredom. I couldn’t go walk the market street because I would pass out (which seems to be a side effect to this heat, I’ve gotten close twice but managed to sit down before falling) I also have a castle of water bottles in my apartment to show that I am indeed drinking enough water. The power outage ruined my Saturday. All the food in my refrigerator went back. I didn’t even open the door but the fridge instead of being cool became an oven. I didn’t have a lot of food in there but the food I did have is no longer with us. But back to my mother’s story, so after the blackout/lack of water, I was relieved to think I could take a shower, because without the fans I have been sweating like a wildebeest. Running to the bathroom I turn on the faucet and out spurts liters of dark brown water. Shit. Not literally, thankfully. After letting it run for about ten minutes I think the water is clear, not 100 percent sure but somewhat sure. Thankfully I’ve hired a woman to come and clean my apartment tomorrow, she is doing the laundry, the dishes, wiping the floors, and cleaning the front stoop thing for five dollars. While I thought that this was amazing and I wanted her to come everyday, when I told Bjorn he said “why can’t you do it, you have nothing to do.” True, but he can also attest to the fact that I’ve never been much of a cleaner, and cleaning with a vacuum and running water is a differ ordeal to what we have going on over here. My “broom” is a collection of twigs tied together with a piece of fabric, where the woman bends over at the waist without bending her knees and sweeps the floors. I wish I could express the amount of dust that has matriculated over the last week. I’m astonished that so much dirt could have made its way into someone’s home. And although I could do it myself, it is hard to resist having someone cleaning the house for five dollars. Especially when doing the wash initials washing each piece of clothing and bed sheet by hand.