Tuesday, December 18, 2012

An Average Day

05:30 - Wake up to the sound of the neighborhood children playing loudly outside my window. Decide to ignore them and go back to sleep until a more reasonable hour.
06:30 - Wake up for real, unable to sleep any more. Read. (a.k.a. postpone leaving the safety of my house.)
07:30 - Make the decision to leave house due to increasingly urgent need to urinate. As soon as I open the door, am greeted by flock of neighborhood children. "Professora Helena, can we watch a movie? Can we make bracelets like you showed us?" Not now, I tell them. Later.
08:00 - Eat delicious breakfast of corn flakes whilst being stared down by aforementioned flock of children. Children remain fascinated, unfazed by the fact that I am completely ignoring them and reading my book.  "How about now, Professora Helena?" Not now. Later.
10:00 - Shoo children out of my house under pretext of "I need to clean the house." I don't actually need to clean, but I do anyway because it means the kids leave me alone, frightened that I'll order them to clean my house for me. Sweep and mop floors inside and out. Wash and dry dishes. Organize clothing in rainbow order. Straighten out the bristles on my toothbrush.
11:30 - Make lunch. Pretend not to notice the faces of the children peering into my house, watching me cook. Pretend as if they are not there and eventually, they disappear.
12:30 - Take advantage of general community lull of lunch hour and retreat into my sanctuary to take a nap.
14:00 - Wake up from nap, energized. Open door. "Professora Helena we thought you'd never wake up! Show us how to do that cat's cradle thing. Can we listen to music? Can we come inside now?" Fine.
14:30 - Watch Disney movie with the flock. My movies are all in English. "Professora Helena, what's going on? Why is her hair so long? Are they in love? Professora Helena, who is that blue man that keeps changing shape?" (The Genie. Yeah. Try explaining Robin Williams to Mozambican children. The closest I got was "He's an espirito.")
16:00 - Shoo children out and prepare bathwater to take a bath. Relish the feeling of cold water on my skin and the sound of silence. Still feel watched, since my dog follows me everywhere -- including the bath house.
17:00 - Put bamboo mat ("esteira") out on front porch. Listen to music and write in journal as the sun goes down. Feel happy due to the beauty of the sunset. Tell children they are welcome to sit with me as long as they are silent. They manage about 10 minutes before some argument or another breaks out and I tell them to go home.
18:00 - Make a mad dash for the latrine before the sun is completely gone and the cockroaches begin their nightly haunt.
18:30 - Start cooking dinner. Feel self-conscious because cooking is not my forté and it is accompanied by a running commentary by the children. "Professora Helena, you sure do eat a lot of noodles. Professora Helena, why don't you eat xima every day like us? Professora Helena, you open cans so weird. Professora Helena, maybe you should just come over and eat dinner at our house..."
19:00 - Eat dinner, all the while being observed. Feel more than a little sympathy for zoo animals.
20:00 - Leave house and converse with neighbors, making effort to be more social. "Professora Helena, it's so very strange that you're not married yet. Is it true you don't have any children? Professora Helena, it's so funny that you think it's hot here. This is nothing."
21:00 - Tell neighbors and children that I am retiring to bed. Crawl into the safety of my mosquito net and read for several hours. This is probably my favorite part of the day.
23:00 - Fall asleep, exhausted.

2 comments:

  1. Oh my goodness! I'd be so scared of the cockroaches DX but I'm sure by the end of your stay you'll be able to cook better than the natives! ...or not =P

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    1. Hehe well see. I will certainly be using some new ingredients. Coconut and peanut oil, for example!

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