PAMA: Day 4 -- "The Shower Experience... It Takes a Village"

08-10 blog

Today something phenomenal happened: I took a shower (and all the other team members said: "Amen!"). We left out from Bangui on Monday and today is Friday, my first shower of the week. Now you might think that's sort of gross, but now being on the clean side, I'm sure noticing I get a heck of a lot more attention from the flies than I used to.

Taking a shower in Pama isn't exactly like showering in Wooster, or even in Bangui for that matter. A shower here consists of a black plastic bag that has been laid in the sun to warm the water, once warm hung in a shower type of tent that we brought from home and then somehow in 3 x 3 square, finding a way to get yourself clean. Did I mention that when the sun is shining it's really hot in the shower tent? Did I mention that the thin nylon fabric becomes somewhat transparent once it gets wet in the sun? Oh, and did I mention that while the bag hangs over your head, the hose that actually allows the water to flow has to be held straight down or the hose kinks and water no longer flows? You can see where this is going can't you? Well, at least figuratively.

So I'm set. I've got a pair of dirty shorts on, the ones I had been wearing all week to walk out to the shower. A towel, shampoo, soap and we were supposed to pack some flip-flops to wear to the shower, but of course I forgot mine. Hence my only choice a pair of leather sandals that I had been wearing all week were going to have to do. I get inside the zippered cleanliness station, bend way over to get underneath the hanging water bag, get my hair wet, flip off the little plastic valve, and begin the process of sudsinging up the hair. "Gee, usually when I use this much shampoo my hair gets squeakily clean?" A quick rinse, and I try it again . . . still the same result. "Hmm, I guess five days in the African bush with no shower have ground my dirt way down deep." After a third attempt, I achieve the desired result and a bit of shower jig takes place and my new found squeak.

Next on the wash scene, it's the body. This shouldn't be a problem, simply crouch down, get all wet, stand up, soap up, crouch down again and rinse it all off. Kids stuff. I think a kid would of had a better chance at success than me. I assume the crouching position, whoops, what's that? My backside is pressed against the now somewhat wet, kind of transparent tent fabric?
Do I hear snickering outside of this tent? I can't see out but all of a sudden I get this sort of uneasy feeling that someone or someones are watching.

I immediately stand straight up to end the scary white man show, reposition myself directly in the center of the tent and try the crouch maneuver all over again. Success! I'm all wet so I stand up, turn off the little plastic knob that controls the water, suds up completely and now it's time for the crouching move once again to get the proper rinse I'm after. Only problem is, this time I've got soap on my face and so the center is a bit hard to determine, but I go for it anyway. Have you ever tried to crouch in a small square with your eyes shut? Don't.

I no sooner assume the position when I realize my balance is fading fast, I don't want to get soap in my eyes, but I think I'm falling, falling, yes, falling backwards. I make a frantic grab at this not comfortable, square plastic thing on the ground that serves as a floor, but it's too late, over backwards I go. I feel the tent fabric groan under the pressure that my tight, muscular frame forces upon every square inch.

There is nothing I can do now but ride this out and prepare for Africa to see a side of America that they rarely do. With all my weight in motion I fall completely off the square floor thing, backside up, feet up, full body against the side of the tent and to my sheer joy and delight, the guy ropes hold and I am saved from a major catastrophe. Thank-you Jesus, Thank-you Lord.
I collect myself and think, "Wow, that was a close one," as I laugh what could of been.

Then I realize why the plastic thing is in the floor of the shower to begin with, because all around and underneath it is the discarded sand of multiple other showers gone before me which is now stuck all over the backside of me, you know, the side that is just more naturally difficult to wash. Cleanliness 0, nasty dirty 10. I recommit myself to a cleaner lifestyle than I was currently living or had been living and I go through the whole process again. This time I'm victorious and clean again.

So goes the morning of day 5 for me.

On the team side it's a wonderful start. Some of the ladies are again teaching, Jill is caring for medical needs in the village dispensary, and Dave, Jim, Matt and Tom are busy working on the construction team.

Jim is handling the roofing side, Dave is an eagle eye when it comes to sighting up the lay of the roof and Matt is getting his first lesson in brick mortaring while at the same time teaching English words and phrases to his new found African mortar friend. It was a swell morning of everyone feeling fulfilled about our mission here, enjoying the interaction with the African people and just enjoying the good morning the Lord had given us. In my heart of hearts I thank the Lord for answering my prayers the night before as clearly, this was just what our team needed.

One other particular scene that caught my eye was a rather large group of children that were hanging around the construction site today. Apparently each of the rooms, I swatting flies like nobodies business as I'm writing this and listening to the lizards scurry up and down the sides of the nylon tents that people are sleeping in, was adopted as sort of a neighborhood project by the different neighborhoods in the village.

The current floor condition is weeds and a begging need for 2-3 inches of sand/dirt to raise the level to where it should be. Well, the children of this one particular neighborhood had come today to fill in their floor (see picture above). Many of these children were from the Fulani tribe, a nomadic tribe of shepherds that have been forced to take up village life due to the violence brought upon them by the bandits in the more remote regions of this area. When inquiring about Fulani life, I was told that what was happening was that the bandits were kidnapping the Fulani children and holding them for ransom, telling the parents to go and sell one of their cattle and give that money to them in order to get their children back. Only problem is that bandits lie, and many times the parents pay and the children are still killed.

Well here I was today watching these precious children armed with cups, bowls, plates and buckets, really anything they could carry dirt in ready to get serious about caring for the floor of their neighborhood classroom. The joy and excitement with which they went about this task sealed the deal for me when it came to grabbing yet another blessing about why it is we as a church have partnered with this village and why it is that our four14 team has come.

RAD