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| A page from my scrapbook. (What happened to that caption?!) |
A
day or so after our arrival at Eleng’ata Enterit (a silent desert place in southwestern Kenya that you can’t
find on the map) and pitching our tent, Dave did
something brilliant: He lashed sticks together with twine and made a set of shelves
for our tent. We would be there for six weeks so we needed a way to get, and
stay, organized.
Even
all these years later, as I think back on those shelves, they bring me delight.
What a great idea Dave had!
He
also built a shower stall which we shared with those who’d pitched their tents
close to ours. It was really a dandy—the envy of the other orientees. He used
fig trees, ropes, and a yellow tarp to improvise an enclosure, and he placed
smooth, flat stones on the ground so we didn’t have to stand in mud.
We
used a solar shower—a pillow-like vinyl bag—which Dave filled each morning with
water from the brook and placed in a sunny spot to warm. In the afternoon, he
hoisted that heavy bag high on a stick hook he’d rigged up, and then we took
turns taking a warm, though brief, shower.
We
controlled the water flow with a lever on a plastic tube at the base of the
water pouch. First, we did a quick hose-down and then stopped the water’s flow.
We lathered up our bodies, shampooed our hair, and then turned on the water to
rinse off.
We
kept our mouths closed, though, because the water came straight from that
filthy brook. If we got water on our lips, we dried them and prayed for the
best.
Life
in Eleng’ata Enterit
couldn’t
have been more different
from
what I’d always dreamed of—
living
in a little white house with a picket fence
and
a rose garden—
but,
oh, those showers felt so good,
a
highlight of each day.
(from
Chapter 2, Grandma’s Letters from Africa)
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