somewhere during my peaceful slumber, somebody wandered by and saw that my door was cracked open. not wanting it to swing open, she locked it from the outside. I eventually woke up, feeling refreshed, and realized that I needed to use the toilet. absolutely needed to. like...it was pretty crucial that I got to the toilet ASAP. after stretching and making my way to the door, i turned the handle and...the doorj didn't open. I groaned and tears sprung into my eyes. I knew the house was empty and even if I yelled I would not be heard. I pressed against the door, wondered if there was a cup I could pee into, prayed that someone would come, and envisioned me spending the rest of my life locked in this room. in a last ditch effort, I knocked feebly at the door and squeaked: "is anybody out there? hello?" in a moment, my door was unlocked, and the lovely Mama Shiro stood there. she fawned and apologized and wondered who would have forgotten to look into the room before locking it, and I forgave and forced laughter and smiles as I tried to subtly make a mad dash for the bathroom. god is good.
the same day, having been left to chill, I was feeling lazy so I piled all my clothes in a bucket and headed to the washroom to hand wash some clothes. I put on my gloves and grabbed a sponge and set to work. it's actually quite backbreaking, and I was so tired when I had finished. I was left with dripping clothes that made the bucket much heavier than it was before. I sighed, looking into the future and seeing me climbing five flights of stairs to the roof where the clothes were to be hung. when I finally made it, the gate to the roof was locked. so down the stairs I went, fetched a key, and went back up. by then, I was wondering how I was ever going to survive anything if doing a load of laundry in Africa was enough to make me want to rest for the rest of my life. anyways, I hung the clothes. a few hours later, I went to get them to find that someone had already taken them off. I pinned up a few more clothes (mainly my delicates, just blowing in the breeze) and went on a search for my clothes, which I found in a huge pile of someone else's clothes, still damp. I dejectedly took them to my room, my legs basically on fire from those darn stairs.
later that night, I absentmindedly wondered if it might rain that night. moments later, it started pouring. I smiled, enjoying the pitter-patter of the rain, then froze. my laundry! I made a mad dash up the stairs, ignoring the inquiring glances that followed me, the crazy American, as I went to rescue my underwear that was flying high hanging on the roof clothesline. when I got to the roof, people were swarming, gathering their laundry. a few girls were staring at my (suddenly very bright and noticeable) delicates, wondering who on earth owned them. I wandered up with my little bucket and started gathering my garments. "how embarrassing!" I blurted, at a loss of what to say "darn rain soaked my underwear!" met only by the serious stares of the girls, I muttered some sort of farewell, flashed a smile that was not returned, and slowly walked away with a face that would have been flaming red if not for that godforsaken rain. god is good.
these two experiences may seem like a few paragraphs of me complaining. I would encourage you to enjoy the humor in the situations as I am able to now, and remember with me that an adventure would not be an adventure without the low points that make the high points worth it all. god is good, all the time, and he's always with me, whether locked in a room or panting as i barely survive my trip up the stairs. I think he use these experiences to teach me that I'm not really as capable as I think I am. when I start feeling high and mighty, he sends some rain to help me remember I'm not in control. praise the lord.
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