farm girl

As a young girl, I resembled Laura Ingalls from the TV show so much that I was asked for my autograph on a couple of occasions. Even watching the show now, I feel like I am looking in a mirror. I had the two long braids, big buck teeth, but lacked the bloomers and bonnet. Well, I now understand the advantage of bloomers. When it is less than 10 degrees Celsius and you have just bathed in a wooden shelter out of a bucket and now must put on a skirt, bloomers would probably be nice and warm!

But by the time I am finished living in rural Kenya, Laura Ingalls is going to have some stiff competition. I have already honed my drawing-water-from-a-well skills in Indonesia and Nigeria and can do it so well that even African women are impressed with my knack for hauling H20.
I am currently learning how to properly stir ugali to a perfect paste in an “African kitchen” over a wood burning mud stove. And I can tell you, it looks easier than it is. Try mixing cement in a steel pot over a fire with smoke in your eyes. Mama said I am almost ready for independence and I will soon be preparing it on my own without any flour clumps in it.
Baba has threatened that I will be milking the cows as soon as my hand is healed, or did he say it would be good therapy to heal my hand?
I stopped using the headlamp to go to the outhouse because I could see how many spider webs were gracing the wooden throne. I am now probably one of the fastest bathers in the world as the warm water quickly evaporates off my cold skin in the bathing shelter in the cool of the Kenyan morning. Living at an elevation of 8,000 feet has its benefits in keeping the weather cool and it is never so evident to me at bath time. Alas, I do bathe with warm water which I truly appreciate!
You know how your parents had to walk 5 miles to school in the snow uphill both ways? I almost have them beat with walking 2 km each way through muddy roads and farmland to work although I don’t have to go uphill. This morning I had 5 pounds of mud on each shoe despite following Mama down the railroad half the way to the hospital. I am quickly becoming an expert in avoiding stepping in cow poo without even looking down at the road.
Although they do not have covered wagons here, I am sure that hopping in the back of a pickup truck and bouncing down a Kenyan dirt road is just as challenging. On Saturday I wedged myself between metal gates and bags of cement in the back of a little Isuzu and tried to precariously hang onto the sides while it bumped through 2 foot potholes. (I think I need to make friends with the local billionaire who just flies his helicopter to avoid road traffic – no lie, it was flying over me on Sunday on my way home from church).
I am fortunate enough to do my Swahili homework by electric lights and not kerosene lamps. But we have some just in case as the power goes out at least once a day.
All of these rural experiences are molding me into a more versatile and grateful person. I love the family who is sharing their home and life with me. I am learning how to be flexible in a challenging environment. And I am practicing my audition in case they ever decide to do a “Little House on the Prairie 2: Alida vs. Laura.”