Domestic sundays

Sunday, the one day of the week we have off. Today involved the usual (can I say that already?) tasks of sweeping and mopping, washing laundry, and helping cook. My mama showed me how to make ugali today. She let me "songa" (stir) the ugali, which is similar to polenta, however I guess I didn't do a good enough job because she took the spoon out of my hand shortly after she let me try!

My mama went to a meeting today and my nine-year-old cousin Fatuma and I rested during the heat of the day. She brought me a thermos of tea and these coconut-flavored fried muffin-like creations that were delicious. We chatted in Swahili to the best of my abilities - I had her teach me colors, and we talked about her siblings' ages, her extended family, her school, what she was going to do for the rest of the day, and what she wants to do when she grows up ("everything").

I sat in front of our house with my mama as she peeled and cut potatoes for chipsi mayai. Neighbors filtered in and out, chatting and sitting on our benches.

It grew dark and I learned that tonight was apparently the night I was to be taught how to iron (one of the "survival skills" Peace corps suggests our host families teach us). Ijumaa, my fifteen-or-so-year-old cousin and domestic dream, summoned me. I think he thought I had never ironed anything before.

I have indeed ironed clothing before, just not outside after dark, in Africa, by the light of a kerosene lamp, with a charcoal-fed iron. First we ironed his school uniform ("freshi!" He said when it was finished), then we moved on to one of my skirts, a kanga, and some of my pillowcases. Ijumaa kept the coals stoked and passed me the iron. He seemed pretty proud when we finished. I thanked him as best I could.

My toad had a toad friend in the bathroom when I went to go shower tonight.

A dry day, a starry night.