(A random picture for you all of the Niger River.)
I hate to make three new blog posts at a time, but there’s been a bit of complication with the electricity situation and I haven’t been able to write for a while except by pen and paper.
The reason I hate to make multiple posts at a time, is because I know this post will be read first, then the next and then finally the following one. But that’s kind like reading a book, getting to chapter 9, then reading chapter 12, 11 and then 10… It just seems like the first thing you should read right now is, “Oh Yay! Oh Yay! Oh Yay! Amanda has arrived!” But all that excitement comes in the first (yet at the same time last) of these three blogs.
I’m writing because I just never realized how much I laugh when I’m with A. My stomach actually aches. It could be from the 500 (yes that’s two zeros tagging along behind that five) sit-ups Amanda made me do, but I think it’s from laughing so hard.
Anyways, I have two stories I want to share with you all. I’m sharing them because when I think about these two events, I can’t help but laugh. You may or may not find them funny. But keep in mind that I am hanging on to every last ounce of sanity I have left here in Africa.
On Sundays, we (Bill, Christy and I. This is pre-Amanda) travel to nearby villages and Bill will preach. Well, after church they will usually feed us rice and red-sauce.
Side note: And I was all gung-ho about making rice and red-sauce for everyone when I returned to the states. And then I was like, “why?... When you could have pizza or lasagna, why would you want to eat rice and red-sauce?” So, I’ll make you all (and when I say “you all” I mean my family in Arkansas. Sorry to everyone else.) a good ol fashion American dish like mashed potatoes and gravy and maybe some pork chops.
Okay, so back to the original story. So, with that rice and red-sauce comes either Coke or Malta. Now, these people are just so happy we’re here; they like to serve us the best… Now my own opinion would be that coke is the best, but the Nigerians believe that Malta is the best. And it costs more, so it must be better.
Well, have you ever drank like a bottle of molasses? I haven’t, but I could imagine what it would taste like (Debi, and you can call my Cordillia.) And that is what Malta tastes like, only about 20 times worse. It’s enough to make you gag.
Well, as strange as it is, it’s their culture to serve you food and then just not eat with you. It would be like me inviting you over for dinner and having you sit in the living room while I just come and check on you. Yeah, I don’t understand either.
So, we’re given our lunch and our yummy Malta drinks. (Three of them to be exact.) And we’re trying to figure out how were going to drink them. Bill doesn’t mind them so Christy and I are trying to make him drink ours as well. I think any more than one would probably make a person sick, so there wasn’t really any way he was going to finish all three. Christy and I are pretty concerned about a plan to make the drinks just vanish. But it was going to be pretty difficult with all these new people coming in and out to meet us, and the hosts coming to check on our lunch.
So, there was a toilet. (Actually the first one I’d seen outside of our house and Xbuja.) And I would like to say this was Christy’s brilliant idea, but I’m not quite sure that I didn’t come up with it on my own. Anyways, she had a cup in her bag and after much discussion the final decision was made to dump as much as possible into the cup and dispose of it. So who was going to risk getting caught dumping this in the head/toilet? I’m young and spry, so the job was on my head.
I dumped it in the head/toilet only to have it foam nearly over the top. Ahhh. I’ll just flush this puppy down and my worries will be over… Except that they don’t have much running water in Nigeria. Oops, that must have slipped my mind. So after waiting for the host to leave the room, who was now talking to Bill and Christy, I dart back to my seat at the table… “Christy…” I lean over and whisper… “It’s kind of foamed up a bit and there’s no way to get rid of it.” Just as I’m saying this, this sweet little lady comes walking through with a bucket of water to flush the toilet and has no idea what awaits her.
She never said anything to us, but I fear the whole village knows we flushed (or attempted to flush) our Malta down the commode…
So that’s my Malta story… …Maybe I'd better save that second story for a different time... I don’t think it’s quite as funny…
I hate to make three new blog posts at a time, but there’s been a bit of complication with the electricity situation and I haven’t been able to write for a while except by pen and paper.
The reason I hate to make multiple posts at a time, is because I know this post will be read first, then the next and then finally the following one. But that’s kind like reading a book, getting to chapter 9, then reading chapter 12, 11 and then 10… It just seems like the first thing you should read right now is, “Oh Yay! Oh Yay! Oh Yay! Amanda has arrived!” But all that excitement comes in the first (yet at the same time last) of these three blogs.
I’m writing because I just never realized how much I laugh when I’m with A. My stomach actually aches. It could be from the 500 (yes that’s two zeros tagging along behind that five) sit-ups Amanda made me do, but I think it’s from laughing so hard.
Anyways, I have two stories I want to share with you all. I’m sharing them because when I think about these two events, I can’t help but laugh. You may or may not find them funny. But keep in mind that I am hanging on to every last ounce of sanity I have left here in Africa.
On Sundays, we (Bill, Christy and I. This is pre-Amanda) travel to nearby villages and Bill will preach. Well, after church they will usually feed us rice and red-sauce.
Side note: And I was all gung-ho about making rice and red-sauce for everyone when I returned to the states. And then I was like, “why?... When you could have pizza or lasagna, why would you want to eat rice and red-sauce?” So, I’ll make you all (and when I say “you all” I mean my family in Arkansas. Sorry to everyone else.) a good ol fashion American dish like mashed potatoes and gravy and maybe some pork chops.
Okay, so back to the original story. So, with that rice and red-sauce comes either Coke or Malta. Now, these people are just so happy we’re here; they like to serve us the best… Now my own opinion would be that coke is the best, but the Nigerians believe that Malta is the best. And it costs more, so it must be better.
Well, have you ever drank like a bottle of molasses? I haven’t, but I could imagine what it would taste like (Debi, and you can call my Cordillia.) And that is what Malta tastes like, only about 20 times worse. It’s enough to make you gag.
Well, as strange as it is, it’s their culture to serve you food and then just not eat with you. It would be like me inviting you over for dinner and having you sit in the living room while I just come and check on you. Yeah, I don’t understand either.
So, we’re given our lunch and our yummy Malta drinks. (Three of them to be exact.) And we’re trying to figure out how were going to drink them. Bill doesn’t mind them so Christy and I are trying to make him drink ours as well. I think any more than one would probably make a person sick, so there wasn’t really any way he was going to finish all three. Christy and I are pretty concerned about a plan to make the drinks just vanish. But it was going to be pretty difficult with all these new people coming in and out to meet us, and the hosts coming to check on our lunch.
So, there was a toilet. (Actually the first one I’d seen outside of our house and Xbuja.) And I would like to say this was Christy’s brilliant idea, but I’m not quite sure that I didn’t come up with it on my own. Anyways, she had a cup in her bag and after much discussion the final decision was made to dump as much as possible into the cup and dispose of it. So who was going to risk getting caught dumping this in the head/toilet? I’m young and spry, so the job was on my head.
I dumped it in the head/toilet only to have it foam nearly over the top. Ahhh. I’ll just flush this puppy down and my worries will be over… Except that they don’t have much running water in Nigeria. Oops, that must have slipped my mind. So after waiting for the host to leave the room, who was now talking to Bill and Christy, I dart back to my seat at the table… “Christy…” I lean over and whisper… “It’s kind of foamed up a bit and there’s no way to get rid of it.” Just as I’m saying this, this sweet little lady comes walking through with a bucket of water to flush the toilet and has no idea what awaits her.
She never said anything to us, but I fear the whole village knows we flushed (or attempted to flush) our Malta down the commode…
So that’s my Malta story… …Maybe I'd better save that second story for a different time... I don’t think it’s quite as funny…
1 comment:
Oh my goodness, I laughed so hard at your malta story!!! I can just imagine the panic and laughter that you felt as the lady went to go flush the toilet!! HAHAHA! You have so many amazing adventures while you are there. Even if you feel that it is miserable, it is nice that there is a lot of laughter that can help lighten the mood. I am so happy that Amanda is there with you now! Hello Amanda!! I know that the two of you together will be able to laugh your way through any problem. Keep posting all the stories, funny or not, on the blog, I love to read them!! Miss you so much. Love and Hugs!!
~Debi
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