#villageproblems

[piotrtymcio]

Śmietnik

Canon EOS R6, RF50mm F1.2 L USM

[EN] It’s easy to imagine someone tossing their trash onto the very top of an overflowing bin — because hey, there’s a bin. That it’s full? Not their problem. Someone should make sure it’s emptied regularly. But this problem is chained to the village for good. Bins get put up and then never emptied. Soon there’s a ton of garbage scattered all around them. If the bin weren’t there, most people would probably take their trash back with them. But since it is, they just pile it on top. On top of that, there are camper travelers who stuff these bins to the brim. And nobody has come up with a solution for that either. The village is left to fend for itself and, even though we pay taxes just like city dwellers, we can’t count on the same standards.

[PL] Łatwo sobie wyobrazić kogoś, kto wrzuca śmieci na sam szczyt przepełnionego kosza, bo przecież kosz jest. To, że przepełniony, to nie mój problem. Niech zadbają o to, żeby opróżniać go regularnie. No ale ten problem jest przykuty łańcuchem do wsi na stałe. Stawia się kosze i ich nie opróżnia. Potem wala się wokół nich tona śmieci. Gdyby kosza nie było, to większość ludzi pewnie zabrałaby je ze sobą. Ale tak? Jest kosz, więc ładują na górę. Dodatkowo zdarzają się ludzie z kamperów, którzy załadowują takie śmietniki po brzegi. Na to też nikt nie znalazł rozwiązania. Wieś jest pozostawiona sama sobie i mimo że płacimy podatki tak samo jak mieszkańcy miast, to nie możemy liczyć na podobne standardy.

[kelseysabo]

January 4th, 2015: The Story about the Rat

A wise man once told me, “Always bathe before the sunset.” In other words, “Don’t bathe in the dark,” and I completely understand why.

Today was filled with hours of studying for our Lugbarati practice exam. By that I mean, I “slept in” until 8, bathed and studied a little, ate lunch, then headed to town to meet up with Megan and Jordan. Intentions were there; we had 100% planned on studying at Cosmo Cafe (conveniently we picked our favorite place with Wi-fi) butttt one thing lead to another and, well, we didn’t.

I got home a little later than intended but I spent one WHOLE American dollar on a sleeve of cookies while in town. I handed it over to the kids when I got home (with an apology for being a little late) and you would’ve thought I just handed them a piece of gold. They were chanting “God Bless You” and I don’t think I have ever seen someone open a box so quickly.

Side note: American children would have taken the box and ran. They would take as many as they could before the next child caught up and took the box from the first child. They would fight about who got more, how it’s “not fair,” and they would have completely made the cookie giver regret their gift purchase. I can say this because I was that American child I’m sure at one point or another. (I know my mother is nodding her head at she reads this… Hi, mom.)

Ugandan children were glowing with appreciation, licking their cookie one-by-one, and saving some for the two girls who were off fetching water. They made sure everyone got exactly two and even called over the girls who were in their room. This made me want to go buy 15 more packs of cookies and distribute them to the whole village.

I was filthy from the walk to town (everyone in this country is dirty by 7pm, I promise) but I had no time to bathe before dinner. Thus, after dinner I decided to bathe because I actually had a little energy. I grab all my bathing supplies and enter the confined, brick washing area, concealed by only a sheet of metal leaning against the entrance (a Ugandan “door”). Here I am washing away: scrub scrub scrub, splash splash splash. I was even ambitious enough to shave my legs with shaving cream… (Note: “extra sensitive Bic razors ARE NOT extra sensitive and I nearly died of blood loss…). Legs are all lathered up with cream, I am ready to go then, as expected in my life, a crisis occurred. Or well, I saw a rather large rat scurrying about in this 4ft-by-4ft space. Coexisting with this rodent was not high on my list of things-to-do this evening so my instinct reaction was to run.

I toss the metal sheet over faster than a small shriek could even leave my mouth. Would I be mad/sad if said metal landed on the ROUS? To be honest, No.

And now, there I am. Prancing alongside my washing area in my birthday suit, shaving cream knee-high, prancing about as if there were ants in my pants (which will actually probably happen these next two years). It was pitch-black outside (thank Jesus) and my headlamp was there somewhere in the rat-infested quarters. Inside I can hear that nobody is phased by my shenanigans…evidently they didn’t hear me break down the door. I see the thing finally find his way out and frolicking away, definitely sporting a shit-eating grin and waving his tail at me saying “gotcha!” Shaving cream and all, I re-enter the contaminated area to finish bathing and laughing at myself. If I wasn’t the crazy, white lady before, I certainly am now.

[mother-of-pocketdragons-blog]

#VillageProblems

So, after my exam, me and Alex sat in my garden and cried and ate ice cream and cried some more, although why we were crying I'm not too sure, we already knew that failing sociology was inevitable. And then he had to go so I went inside to draw something to take my mind off the fact that i probably should have been revising for literature tomorrow but I couldn't find my drawing pen and just asdfghjkl some metaphorical shit hit the metaphorical fan but didn't go anywhere because Mythbusters proved that shit doesn't actually do anything, it just kinda chills on the fan blades all like BBLLLLAAADDEEEE FRIIIIIEEEENNNNDDDD, not even metaphorical shit goes anywhere so there wasn't really any point in letting shit hit the fan in the first place. So then I called Penney and told him about buying all the ice cream whilst en route to le shoppe to buy yet more ice cream and all the way to the shop I could hear a sheep doing it's ting -this is from the middle of an estate...#VillageProblems- and then I started think about what the world would be like if sheep had opposable thumbs... or toes, do sheep even have arms? Well if they had arms and opposable thumbs they wouldn't feel the need to *headground* the grass whenever they felt hungry. I'd make a brilliant sheep, I could put my clumsiness to use and just make the excuse that i was falling over because the grass was too far away. But being a sheep here would be pretty terrible seeing as there appears to be a gang of youths going round cutting off sheep's ears...and stealing cats...#VillageProblems. So anyway, I got back home, ate all my ice cream in about 15 minutes (this is like a full tub of Rolo Ice cream okay) and played Remebering Sunday all the way through on my ukulele and it was perdy damn awesome. Then I heard some knocking on my bedroom window and looked outside and it was the guys and they all sang bad touch to me and did the dance because apparently I looked all sad earlier (I jumped on two of them when I was walking home from the shop) and after about 17 attempts, they threw me a packet of custard creams through my window and then my mum cruised up the drive and they all hid round the side of my house because my Mother is a beast and they all tried to be ninja and ran off. And now I'm sat here, not revising for tomorrow and feeling slightly sick because too much ice cream. 

Oh, half way through this I found my drawing pen. it was in my cleavage. Boobz cn u not.