running from stereotypes, catching a moment

Everyone else bathes in cold water, yet they insisted on heating up some water on the fire for me. But while doing so Imma cautioned in Hausa, “Now, don’t get it too hot, her skin isn’t as tough as ours.” Evidently black skin is synonymous with tough skin.

I got used to being told to step carefully and to being coddled in other ways. They wanted me to rest a lot. Sometimes I went stir crazy. I’m accustomed to being much more active here. I didn’t want to rest or be served hand and foot. Baruka was my “servant.” He was assigned to get me everything I needed while I was in the village. The first evening he sat in the guest room with Neicy and I. He answered all my questions but mostly he sat a waited for me to need something or he simply sat with us to be with us, I couldn’t figure out which it was. Later Neicy expressed how I felt, “Why is that guy always following us? Let’s run away.” The next day we did.

Despite the uncomfortable traditions and habits of the people we were amongst, it was fun to stand outside of myself and laugh at how my own independence was hardwired into me. After the melt-down about the high walls and barbed wire, the guys always ribbed me about it. In the village, it was all open space, “Hey check it out,” they’d say, “no walls and barbed wire.”
“Just one spy,” I would counter and point at Baruka and laugh. He, however, served as a wonderful guide in meeting folks in the village and was invaluable in explaining things I didn’t understand.

On our first day in the village we took a short walk to a neighboring huddle of huts to meet the tribal chief, I was telling Baruka that I wanted to put on my converse and run to Zankwa that afternoon, which was a 3k trip. “Oh, no, you must not,” he countered, “You will be so tired. After this walk, we will rest.”
“You may rest, I can run to Zankwa by myself. I will be okay. Fr. Vincent gave me permission.” I persuaded.
“No, I must go with you. We will wait till tomorrow” he said. “Watch your step,” he cautioned, as I stepped over a shallow ditch. “White people take small steps. Africans take big strides,” he said.

One of the bigger barrier breaking habits I engaged in was the food I chose to eat. I ate the food that the people prepared. I was a bit more careful with the water. I mostly took tea so it was all boiled before I drank it. But the food was great. It didn’t affect my digestive system at all. I even ate bush meat. Bush meat is the meat you buy along the road that somebody killed and skinned and dried. It could be a few weeks old but it stinks and it has flies all over it. And when you stop the car to inspect it, the vendor will throw it on top the dusty hood of the car and everyone will touch it and there will be some negotiating. After you buy it they’ll throw it into the trunk with the luggage. And somebody at home will cook it up. The picture below is of elk meat the guys bought. We ate it for breakfast the next morning. It was really tasty.