Chapter 17: a day in the life

hey kids, daddy’s back.....

this month, i’m going to change the format a little - gonna spice things up a tad. now, several of you folks have written yours truly in the past and requested a letter detailing, so to speak, what i - as a peace corps volunteer - do on a day-to-day basis. taking that into consideration, this month i’m giving you - the fans - what you want. fear not, those of you who find this lame....next month i’ll drop in again with a band new, back-to-basics account of what i’ve been up to over here in the “bush”. hope all is well in the homeland; i still haven’t seen Star Wars Episode III and i’m severely pissed off. on that note, i’ll talk to you later. stay outta trouble...

col. brian j. hough, “chief maliguna”
9th royal northern donkey cavalry brigade

p.s. BP - just got the package....its whoop-assness cannot be explained in words. i pledge to you my firstborn child as a token of thanks (depending on whether or not Columbia House is willing to give up their rights to it).

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Village of Sankpala, Northern Region, Ghana, West Africa

4:12 a.m. - Awaken to rooster crowing outside bedroom window. Realize in horror that you are, in fact, still in Africa and not somewhere else in the civilized world (as your dream had led you to believe).

4:13 a.m. - Break into tears

4:15 a.m. - Realize you’re about to wet yourself from the liters upon liters of water you drank the evening before in order to keep from passing out from heat exhaustion. Also realize rooster is still outside window making noise - decide to hit two birds with one stone.

4:16 a.m. - Attempt to urinate off porch on to rooster deemed unsuccessful due to rooster’s surprisingly agile reflexes, and distraction caused by neighbor woman asking you why you’re attempting to urinate on her rooster.

4:17 a.m. - Contemplate why neighbor woman is up at 4:17 a.m. when her stereo was operating on ungodly decibel level until at least midnight.

4:18 a.m. - Contemplate why you’re still urinating.

4:19 a.m. - Finish urinating off of porch; go back inside and lie back down.

4:31 a.m. - Finally manage to drift back asleep. Manage to teleport mentally back to the United States.

4:33 a.m. - Ripped back into consciousness by the Mosque’s P.A.-powered “Call to Prayer”, located conveniently 50 feet across the street.

4:34 a.m. - Against will, subconsciously count along as the Muslim on the microphone chants something-or-other in Arabic 13 times.

4:35 a.m. - Not to be outdone by the new competition, the rooster - now accompanied by several of his kinsmen undertaking the roles of backup vocalists - decides to inform you of the morning that’s still two hours away.

4:45 a.m. - Come to grips with the fact that you are never, ever going back to sleep.

4:46 a.m. - Come to grips with the fact that you are obligated to kill the rooster.

4:48 a.m. - Charge out the front door, armed with slingshot, and lay down barrage of pebble-fire on unsuspecting rooster.

4:49 a.m. - Reminded of rooster’s agility as every single shot misses its mark.

4:50 a.m. - Become aware of neighbor woman staring at you, eventually inquiring as to why you are attempting to kill her rooster.

4:51 a.m. - Go back inside the house, head hung in shameful defeat.

4:53 a.m. - Abandon self to Gameboy Advance.

6:21 a.m. - Become aware of foreboding rumble in bowel area.

6:22 a.m. - Make mad dash for the latrine before intestines empty themselves into boxer shorts.

6:23 a.m. - Too late.

6:24 a.m. - Learn the meaning of “humility”.

6:26 a.m. - Grudgingly throw away favorite novelty boxers and fill up bucket of water for bathing.

6:29 a.m. - Enter bathhouse with bucket of water. Lock bathhouse door and undress.

6:37 a.m. - While soaping up, become aware of large rat scurrying around bathhouse floor.

6:38 a.m. - Jump onto stool and shriek like an 11 year old girl - simultaneously wondering how the rat and you failed to notice each other in the 4 ft by 4 ft room over the duration of eight minutes.

6:44 a.m. - Finish rinsing off (still on top of stool).

6:47 a.m. - Dry off, dress, and flee bathhouse.

6:49 a.m. - Dress into today’s ensemble: chief hat, dirty shirt, & battered khakis.

7:11 a.m. - Consider options for breakfast. Omelet, Egg McMuffin, pancakes, cereal, or waffles?

7:12 a.m. - Decide on the usual: stale crackers and an orange.

7:15 a.m. - Forget to take the daily dosage of Doxycycline, your anti malaria medication.

7:29 a.m. - Counterpart stops by to greet. After informal morning greeting, wait for Counterpart - who has stared off into space - to announce the program for the day.

7:33 a.m. - Counterpart snaps back into real-time, announcing that later this morning you are to both go around to the surrounding small villages and collect health information. Agree to meet at the road at 8:30 a.m. to depart.

8:30 a.m. - The ever-punctual American, you arrive at roadside with your bike, ready for action, at 8:30 a.m. sharp.

9:21 a.m. - Counterpart still hasn’t shown up.

9:34 a.m. - Head back to the house. Turn on Gameboy Advance.

10:14 a.m. - Counterpart finally arrives at house; inquires as to why you weren’t at roadside.

10:15 a.m. - Pause for a moment to reflect on how much you truly love the concept of “Ghana Time.”

10:17 a.m. - Just as you’re walking out the door, your recently-imported girlfriend from the States decides to finally wake up and begin the day’s nagging streak. “Where’s breakfast? Have you taken your vitamins? Where are you going?”

10:18 a.m. - Take vitamins. Neglect designated ‘morning snuggle time’ and set out with Counterpart.

10:20 a.m. - Realize how incredibly hot it is for 10:20 in the morning.

10:45 a.m. - Arrive at first village - Kampong. Population: 234.

10:47 a.m. - Lectured by old women for not coming around lately to greet and for failing to bring them bread.

10:55 a.m. - While greeting the village health chairman, swarmed by children who, despite having known your local name for nigh on two years, insist on shrieking the local name for “White Person” over and over and over again.

10:56 a.m. - “SiliMINGga! SiliMINGga! SiliMINGga! Hello! Hello!”

11:34 a.m. - Finish reviewing Village Health Book. Record reports and give excuses why you can’t bring the chairman and his three wives and their entire family back with you to American when you leave.

11:38 a.m. - Chairman insists that he should go to America, and if need be, he can just leave his wives and children in Ghana.

11:43 a.m. - Leave Kampong - set out for Yipala Zak. Population: 452.

12:15 p.m. - Realize that you are doing outside work at the hottest time of the day, during the hottest time of the year, in the hottest region of the world.

12:16 p.m. - Question your sanity.

12:39 p.m. - Arrive in Yipala Zak amongst the endless din of “Hello!”s.

1:24 p.m. - Space out during the book reviewing with the Yipala chairman. Sit in silence, sweat profusely. Children continue to greet.

1:53 p.m. - On a bush path to Zam Zugu - way out in the middle of nowhere.

2:04 p.m. - Daydream about Slurpees - break into tears.

2:06 p.m. - Suddenly, in horror, you realize you forgot to fill up your water bottle.

2:07 p.m. - Stop crying, start weeping.

2:21 p.m. - Arrive n Zam Zugu. Population: 516. Search in vain for a dry square inch of fabric on your person with which to wipe the sweat off your face and arms.

2:23 p.m. - Marvel in the discovery that human beings are capable of sweating on the backs of their fingers.

2:41 p.m. - Informed that the Chairman of Zam Zugu wandered off into the bush in order to take a shit three hours ago and hasn’t returned yet. Counterpart advises that you wait small.

2:53 p.m. - While waiting, decide to inflate back bike tire. This is surprisingly difficult due to the crowd of naked children who have gathered around to watch you and the sweat stinging your eyes and obstructing your vision.

3:12 p.m. - Counterpart decides to move on to the last village, Champe. Population: 104.....even farther into the bush.

3:19 p.m. - Upon leaving Zam Zugu, Counterpart explains that you’ll have to return to Zam Zugu the following morning in order to pick up reports.

3:21 p.m. - Pray for death in your sleep.

3:34 p.m. - Forced to ride through a small river, leaving you covered in mud. Your Counterpart, on the other hand, doesn’t have a speck on him.

3:36 p.m. - Counterpart points out that you have mud on your clothes.

3:38 p.m. - Contemplate the possibility of Ghana’s law enforcement personnel searching for and finding a body way out here in the bush. It’s not like villagers like your Counterpart have dental records or Social Security numbers or anything, right?

3:41 p.m. - Look back grudgingly on your conversation with Peace Corps Placement Department.

3:50 p.m. - Ride into Champe...just in time to watch a topless 200 year old female dwarf slice through the neck of a young, shrieking goat.

3:51 p.m. - Realize how grizzled you must be if this sort of thing feels about as normal as someone walking to the mailbox in order to get the morning paper back home in Michigan.

3:53 p.m. - Wonder how cold it is in Michigan right now. Choke back tears - not that anyone would probably even notice due to all the streams of sweat cascading into your eyes.

4:06 p.m. - Greet Champe’s chairman, who asks if you’ll take him and his entire family to America when you leave.

4:10 p.m. - Counterpart asks if he can also come to America with his family.

4:21 p.m. - One of the Chairman’s wives enters the hut and, upon seeing your earrings, inquires as to whether or not you are a woman.

4:22 p.m. - You realize that this is the 329th time you’ve been asked this in the last 24 hours, and offer - in English - to prove to the woman that you are, in fact, a man.

4:23 p.m. - Woman, not understanding, demands you give her your earrings.

4:51 p,m. - Finish collecting the last of the reports from Champe.

4:53 p.m. - Realize, as you head out for Sankpala, that you have found that mythical place known as B.F.E......and it sucks.

4:58 p.m. - That horrible rumbling in your bowels begins to start up again; unfortunately, in the middle of nowhere.

4:59 p.m. - Lose feeling in your ass and legs.

5:24 p.m. - Reach the main road just in time to almost be plowed over by a lorry laden down with livestock. You manage to catch a glimpse of a cow hog-tied (cow-tied?) in the boot as it passes.

5:25 p.m. - Counterpart points out that you were almost plowed over by a lorry laden down with livestock.

5:26 p.m. - Start to begin a physical struggle for power with your butt hole.

5:30 p.m. - Counterpart points out that your are sweating small, and that the sun is there, and that the reason you are sweating small is because the sun is there.

5:49 p.m. - Arrive in the metropolis of Sankpala. Population: 1314.

5:53 p.m. - Bid farewell to Counterpart, who vows to pass by your house in the evening - between prayers - to greet.

5:54 p.m. - Fail to see the reason why you have to greet someone you’ve spent the entire day with out in the bush.

6:00 p.m. - Ride into courtyard, walk bike up to porch, and collapse into plastic chair.

6:05 p.m. - Girlfriend comes out onto porch and asks how day has been, informing you her day entailed writing a letter to her cousin, eating lunch, taking a nap, reading a book, and organizing spices on the spice rack.

6:09 p.m. - Upon being asked what you’d like for dinner, you first realize that all you’ve eaten that day were some stake crackers and an orange; then you daydream about all the things you could be eating had you decided to say ‘screw Peace Corps’ and stayed in America.

6:11 p,m. - Daydream entailing cheeseburgers, steak, pizza, Slurpees, Taco Bell, White Russians, and Chinese food cut short by Girlfriend’s announcement that she’s just going to boil up some rice.

6:14 - Realize that putrid smell raping your nostrils is emanating from you.

6:21 p.m. - Prepare to bathe for the second time that day.

6:38 p.m. - Finish bathing - no trace of rat this time around.

6:44 p.m. - Rice is served, and you eat with hatred knowing that there are children in America who are eating only small portions of their exquisite meals, wasting most of it, and not taking into consideration that there are starving people in Africa who only get to eat rice for dinner....like you.

7:05 p.m. - Thunder sounds from the heavens. From your porch, the ominous, black storm clouds barreling down over the village straight towards you somehow remind you of those big-ass alien spaceships that would approach over cities in “Independence Day”.

7:16 p.m. - Someone, somewhere, pisses off the Rain God. Severely.

7:20 p.m. - Attempt to brace the gate in place with a long, rotted board proves to be unsuccessful due to the strong gales tearing over the plains.

7:23 p.m. - Seek shelter indoors after abandoning the gate to the wind gusts and downpour.

7:25 p.m. - Decide on reading.

7:41 p.m. - Reflect on how pleasant and calm you’re feeling at present, what with the fan blowing, the soothing sound and smell of the rain, and the lights illuminating the book in front of you.

7:44 p.m. - Following a blinding flash of lighting and a sonic boom of thunder, all electricity in the hut is lost and you’re left in pitch black darkness.

7:45 p.m. - The “animal” that lives above you in the rafters begins tearing around the ceiling. You wonder briefly how the ceiling can support an animal of such apparent girth. You come to the conclusion that the beast must surely be a cougar.

7:48 p.m. - You hear the shrill, warbling cry of goats and sheep out on your front porch - their favorite refuge from the rain in the entire village.

7:49 p.m. - Stumble through the dark to retrieve your sacred “Goat Stick” from its resting place, trip over your bicycle, and crash down onto the concrete floor.

7:50 p.m. - Driven by rage, lunge for the “Goat Stick” and kick open the door to the porch, where you find a small flock staring back at you with that ever-complacent and stupefied “Who, me?”-look.

7:51 p.m. - Stand victorious after momentary battle with livestock.

7:53 p.m. - Lie down, turn on Gameboy Advance.

7:57 p.m. - The flock returns to the porch.

7:58 p.m. - Charge back out onto the porch and bring war to the Goats and Sheep.

7:59 p.m. - Upon clearing the porch again, notice a truck load of Milk Duds has backed up and emptied itself on your porch.

8:06 p.m. - 10:21 p.m. - Lie back down, livestock return on porch, go outside and drive animals away with “Goat Stick”, come back inside, lie down. Repeat.

10:32 p.m. - Rain lets up, winds die down.

10:37 p.m. - Inside begins to get hot and airless again.

10:41 p.m. - Begin soaking bed sheets with sweat.

10:43 p.m. - Pray to the Electricity God to come back and bless your village.

10:44 p.m. - Decide it would be acceptable if He just came back and blessed your house.

10:58 p.m. - Out of curiosity, decide to check ‘thermostat’ in the house. 106 degrees F.

11:00 p.m. - Begin clicking heels of flip-flops together in order to teleport home. Somehow doesn’t work.

11:19 p.m. - Tired of lying in agony, decide to drug self to sleep with Benadryl and off-the-street Valium.

11:42 p.m. - Before dropping unconscious atop soaking wet foam mattress, determine that whoever coined the phrase “Peace Corps: The Toughest Job You’ll Ever Love” didn’t know their ass from a hole in the ground.

-Fin-