having my view of the sky blocked by a ceiling, the space I could move around in limited by walls, the brush and animal smells of the desert replaced by the sewage and carbon monoxide smells of a crowded city. Auntie’s place was somewhat bigger than Aman’s, but still not spacious by any means. And even though the facilities offered me new luxuries keeping warm at night and dry when it rained they were primitive by contemporary Western standards. My respect for water
continued, as it remained a precious commodity. We purchased it from a vendor who transported his wares through the neighborhood by donkey, then we stored the water outside in a barrel. The family dipped it out sparingly for bathing, cleaning, making tea, cooking. In the small kitchen, Auntie prepared meals on a camp stove using bottled gas. In the evening, we sat around the house and talked by kerosene lamps, as there was no electricity. The toilet was typical of this part of the world: a hole in the floor where the waste fell and remained stinking in the heat. Bathing meant carrying a bucket of water in from the barrel outside, and sponging off, letting the excess run down the hole into the toilet.
Soon after I arrived at Auntie Uuul’s, I realized I was getting more than I’d bargained for when I asked for a place to stay. I was also getting a full time job as babysitter for her three rotten children. Well, I guess I couldn’t really categorize the little baby as rotten, but its behavior distressed me all the same.
Each morning Auntie got up around nine, and right after breakfast she gleefully left the house to visit her friends. Then she spent the entire day with these women, gossiping endlessly about their friends, enemies, acquaintances, and neighbors.
Eventually she meandered back home in the evening. While she was gone, the three-month old baby cried constantly, wanting to be fed. When I held it, it started sucking me. Every day I would say, “Look, Auntie for God’s sake you’ve got to do something. The baby’s trying to suck me every time I pick it up, and I don’t have any milk. I don’t even have any breasts!”
“Well, don’t worry. Just give him some milk,” she said pleasantly.
Besides cleaning the house, and taking care of the baby, there was a nine-year-old and a six-year old to look after. And these two were like wild animals. They had no idea how to behave, because obviously their mother never taught them anything. I tried to rectify this situation immediately by whipping their ass every chance I got. But after years of running around like hyenas, they were not going to become little angels over night.
As the days passed, I got more and more frustrated. I wondered how many more of these hopeless situations I was going to have to go through before something positive happened. I was always looking for a way to make things better, push myself forward, and find whatever that mysterious opportunity was that I knew was waiting for me. Every day I wondered, “When is it
going to happen? Is it today? Tomorrow? Where am I going to go? What am I going to do?” Why I thought this, I’ve never known. I guess at that time I thought everyone had these voices inside them. But as far back as I can remember, I always knew my life was going to be different from those around me; I just had no idea how different.
My stay with Aunt L’uul reached a crisis after I’d been there about a month. Late one afternoon, as Auntie was off making her rounds of the gossip mill, the oldest child, her nine-year old daughter, disappeared. First I went outside and called her. When she didn’t reply, I started walking through the neighborhood looking for her. Finally, I found her in a tunnel with a young boy. She was a strong-minded, inquisitive child, and by the time I caught up to her, she had become very inquisitive about this little boy’s anatomy. I marched into the tunnel, grabbed her arm, and jerked her to her feet; the boy took off
continued, as it remained a precious commodity. We purchased it from a vendor who transported his wares through the neighborhood by donkey, then we stored the water outside in a barrel. The family dipped it out sparingly for bathing, cleaning, making tea, cooking. In the small kitchen, Auntie prepared meals on a camp stove using bottled gas. In the evening, we sat around the house and talked by kerosene lamps, as there was no electricity. The toilet was typical of this part of the world: a hole in the floor where the waste fell and remained stinking in the heat. Bathing meant carrying a bucket of water in from the barrel outside, and sponging off, letting the excess run down the hole into the toilet.
Soon after I arrived at Auntie Uuul’s, I realized I was getting more than I’d bargained for when I asked for a place to stay. I was also getting a full time job as babysitter for her three rotten children. Well, I guess I couldn’t really categorize the little baby as rotten, but its behavior distressed me all the same.
Each morning Auntie got up around nine, and right after breakfast she gleefully left the house to visit her friends. Then she spent the entire day with these women, gossiping endlessly about their friends, enemies, acquaintances, and neighbors.
Eventually she meandered back home in the evening. While she was gone, the three-month old baby cried constantly, wanting to be fed. When I held it, it started sucking me. Every day I would say, “Look, Auntie for God’s sake you’ve got to do something. The baby’s trying to suck me every time I pick it up, and I don’t have any milk. I don’t even have any breasts!”
“Well, don’t worry. Just give him some milk,” she said pleasantly.
Besides cleaning the house, and taking care of the baby, there was a nine-year-old and a six-year old to look after. And these two were like wild animals. They had no idea how to behave, because obviously their mother never taught them anything. I tried to rectify this situation immediately by whipping their ass every chance I got. But after years of running around like hyenas, they were not going to become little angels over night.
As the days passed, I got more and more frustrated. I wondered how many more of these hopeless situations I was going to have to go through before something positive happened. I was always looking for a way to make things better, push myself forward, and find whatever that mysterious opportunity was that I knew was waiting for me. Every day I wondered, “When is it
going to happen? Is it today? Tomorrow? Where am I going to go? What am I going to do?” Why I thought this, I’ve never known. I guess at that time I thought everyone had these voices inside them. But as far back as I can remember, I always knew my life was going to be different from those around me; I just had no idea how different.
My stay with Aunt L’uul reached a crisis after I’d been there about a month. Late one afternoon, as Auntie was off making her rounds of the gossip mill, the oldest child, her nine-year old daughter, disappeared. First I went outside and called her. When she didn’t reply, I started walking through the neighborhood looking for her. Finally, I found her in a tunnel with a young boy. She was a strong-minded, inquisitive child, and by the time I caught up to her, she had become very inquisitive about this little boy’s anatomy. I marched into the tunnel, grabbed her arm, and jerked her to her feet; the boy took off
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