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.