Remember when I suggested that clothes washing should be an Olympic sport? That was when I was washing nine pairs of underwear. I just washed my entire reserve of clothing, with the help of Mme Chiliwa, and it still took us two hours. This is a four bucket process. You start by soaking the clothes in the first bucket with the most powered detergent. There is no washboard, instead you use the tops of your fingers as if they are a washboard. Gripping the material with your fist, you put your arm straight out, fingers facing up, and rub the nearby material against your arm and fingers, creating a human washboard. You do this several times while dunking the material in the water, being sure to pay extra attention to the collar and armpits. After wringing out the item of clothing, you throw it in the next bucket with slightly less detergent and repeat the process. Once again wringing out the material, you throw it into the third bucket of just water to remove the soap. And finally into the fourth bucket with fabric softener to make the clothes soft and static free. Last stop is the clothes line where everything sits out to dry.
We started with the light colors, slowly moving to darks, and then jeans. Luckily I had help or else the process would have taken me well over half the day. By the time I finished one shirt, Mme would be done with three. I’m sure I was slowing down the process, so Mme sent me to wring out clothes and hang them on the line, which I still managed to do wrong. I was hanging clothes the wrong direction and wasting clothespins before Mme came to correct my errors. Thank goodness I’m a quick learner or else I’m not sure I would survive two years in Africa.
After dumping out all the water we realized that the towel was left untouched. It is the bright pink towel the Peace Corps gave me that has never been washed. We decided to save it for the end, so the colors wouldn’t bleed, but we managed to forget it altogether. I refilled smaller buckets to finish this last one. When I submersed my hands in the warm water, the tops of the last joint of my fingers started to burn and sting like there were little ants biting my skin. From the earlier washing where I used my fingers as a washboard, I rubbed the skin raw. This is the last time I go a month without washing clothes, instead I will wash smaller, more manageable loads. I will never take my washing machine for granted again, ever.
Before this washing adventure, Mme made soft porridge for breakfast. I had already made hardboiled eggs at 6am when I woke up, but I’ve been wanting to try soft porridge for some time and decided to keep adding to my already full belly. Soft porridge is basically the same as the phaletshe with sorghum, but using less sorghum and more water to make it more oatmeal-like. The texture and consistency reminded me of my mom’s rice cereal from the States and it made me feel at home. After cooking for ten minutes, the dish is served and you can add ingredients to your liking. In the morning Mme suggested to add sugar, butter, and sometimes milk. She put my bowl together with butter and sugar, but then added a small dollop of the tangy mayo. That is probably the last thing I would have added, but too late now. I mixed it all together and gave it a taste. It was almost exactly like my mom’s rice cereal, minus the raisins. Even with the tangy mayo, it tasted quite good.
I have a love-hate relationship with Sundays. On one hand it is nice to have a slow, relaxing day to recuperate after the week, but it can also be boring sitting around without anything to do. After cleaning clothes I started to help Mme clean the car, but my dad called shortly after. With a lot of descriptive directions, my dad was able to locate my house from an internet map. It was nice being able to show him where I have been living the past month.
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