Caution: Flying Mud

February 15, 2011

Today was one of those days that doesn’t seem to end until it’s finally dark, you’re about to go to bed and you know nothing else (like mud being thrown at a wall) can get in the way of you and your pillow. My morning began at 8:00 at the work site, where I spent five hours schlepping bricks and cement and then more bricks, and of course, tons more cement, from the front of the warehouse-in-progress to the back, where the workers were all standing on wooden scaffolds (they made the scaffolding themselves out of spare lumber and nails, using machetes) and telling us to pile “more blocks” (they have issues saying “bricks”). Well, this was working fine (it’s entertaining for about the first twenty minutes, and then it gets tedious, and then the sun comes out fully and it’s hot and tedious, all at the same time), and I felt quite like Pelage’s secretary (this was an ongoing joke because clearly, I wasn’t typing anything or answering his phone and saying “Hold, please,” but instead, every time he said “Blocks!” and pointed, or “Cima!” I ran to go get more, lifting it up to him on the scaffold). However, about an hour and a half in, the scaffolding collapsed, with the workers on it, bricks, cement and all. We raced to move the bricks (some were still on the scaffold, which was now more like a lumber ramp) and clear the cement so the guys could recover from their tumble.

We took a short break while the scaffolding was repaired and then returned to our work, making piles of bricks, filling half-jerry cans (they cut the jerry cans in half a while ago to use them as cement transportation devices) with cement and carrying them (shoulders are best for this) around the back of the building. A little while later, I went up to the school because Aimable told me that the kids in English Class D would be performing short plays they prepared to practice their “communicative English.” Well, I hiked from the site to the school and, lo and behold, they had gotten caught up in an activity and the plays wouldn’t be happening for at least another hour. I knew I had to return to construction and I couldn’t exactly wait around in a class I wasn’t meant to be teaching, so I thanked him, apologized to the kids for not being able to stay, and began my descent back to the warehouse.

This afternoon, once construction ended, we taught the workers and farmers English for our weekly hour. We reviewed “head, shoulders, knees and toes,” which went significantly better than last week; instead of simply covering their faces with their hands during the “eyes, ears, mouth, nose” verse, they actually motioned to the correct body parts. We also taught directions (right, left, forward, back) during which we attempted to teach them the Hokey Pokey. This did not go well since, let’s be honest, it’s a ridiculous dance and they really didn’t get the whole “turn yourself around” thing. So, we stuck to directions and “Elana and Ilyssa Say” (once again, we couldn’t do “Simon Says” since the question would inevitably be asked “Who’s Simon and why isn’t he here?”) We also taught them “Can I please have,” which will come in handy when they want more bricks and cement (which is all the time at the work site) and will hopefully prevent them from pointing to what they want and saying “Cima” or “Blocks!” At the end, they all came around, shaking our hands and bowing slightly, saying "Thank you, teacher!" This made my day.

Needless to say, after all this I was completely exhausted. But, every Tuesday at 3 PM is Tikkun Olam, so despite my fatigue (and smelling like cement), we left for Peter’s house down the road from the village. Today, we actually started working on his house, mixing mud (we brought gardening tools from the village and a bunch of the guys used them to loosen a pit of dirt) by mixing dirt in Peter’s yard (well, dirt patch, really) with jerry cans full of water that we brought from ASYV. To mix it well, the guys threw their tools to the side and stood in the mud barefoot, grabbed each others’ shoulders, and jumped in circles (it highly resembled the Horah) until the dirt and water became mud. Then, they began handing us mud piles to bring into the house where people were on makeshift ladders, throwing the mud at the wooden wall frames to create rooms within Peter’s originally one-room hut. They let me give it a shot; take a huge pile of mud, remove a handful and throw with as much force as possible at the wall to fill any visible holes. Yes, there is photographic and video evidence of this. Where else (and when else) would I be throwing mud at a wall to improve a hut in rural Rwanda? One of the best moments was watching Peter’s kids carry as much mud as their little hands could (often balancing it under their chins) and then throw it at the wall (it generally ended up on the floor because they aren’t tall enough to reach parts of the actual wall). Their effort was unbelievable, and adorable.

Another thing to watch out for: flying mud. People on ladders (pieces of wood nailed together into a triangle with a few rungs) were throwing the mud at the cracks between the ceiling and the wall, and inevitably, not all of it would stick, so some fell… on my head. I returned back to the village covered in mud, my hair included. But, one of the biggest surprises of my day came during showering off my mud-covered self; the water got HOT. I haven’t had a hot (or even warm) shower since arriving in Rwanda; we were promised cold showers, when the water is even running. How this happened I have no idea, but it was certainly a high point. Not ten minutes later, however, the power went out in the guesthouse, and as we later found out, in the entire village with the exception of the dining hall. Luckily, the power came back eventually; Peter’s house has no electricity, so losing it for a while means having it in the first place. We are fortunate that this was only temporary.

It’s now almost 10 and I’m so tired I’m falling asleep while typing. My family time got canceled tonight because the girls were in the Science Learning Center for extra study time, so I will have to visit them another day (most are in my classes at school, so I get to see them anyway). Tomorrow we are chopping wood for the construction project – I’m going to learn how to cut down trees… with a machete.

Timber! from Rwanda,

Elana