There were two parts of village living. The really really good part. And the really really not good part.
Here we are in the village. Living the dream that's been motivating our choices independently and as a couple for the past ten years. After having coffee in the morning, we go out to do language learning. Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday are market days. We have bush food sold there for breakfast. Sometimes a tapioc cake, sometimes a plantain topped with ramen noodles and greens, occasionally a fried ball of bread. We go around asking what each thing is:
"ñɨ mum?"
And asking how much it costs
"ñɨ pamata?"
And asking to buy a couple
"arkɨta mut muŋgriman"
After market or on not-market days, we often take a 15 minute walk to Katiati. Someone usually comes to grab Marissa from me and carry her. Everyone loves to hold the white baby. And we sit on someone's porch and learn language. Sometimes asking what things are, sometimes asking what people are doing, and sometimes just learning whatever they're in a mood to teach us. We get to know people. We make friends. James runs around in the village, usually screaming when some child tries to hold him, which is any time he falls down, which is often, because he plays hard.
Around 10, we go home for a snack and work on lunch and do chores.
In the afternoon, we'll go out again. Sometimes to Katiati again, sometimes to Aringana, sometimes to Kakrasapai, (which is very close but more of a boys town, so much less comfortable for me.)
Visiting people under the cool of their morota roofs is a lovely way to spend time.
Some days it's too hot and clear to make the 15 minute walk in full sun. Some days it's too rainy. So we sit in our house. We try to study our language data, but we have a toddler with fierce cabin fever. Even when he's not fussy, he's ramming into us with the full velocity of his love. He has so much energy and it's all exerted in a physical way and he knows not his own strength.
We're literally sitting on our cargo. So when we're not reprimanding him to stop grinding his head into our leg (we've finally nearly broken him of the head butting habit), we're telling him to stop touching the stuff that's everywhere.
Also we have an infant, who gets into less trouble but is teething and is no less demanding.
We could go under the house which is the only shaded area nearby, but Regina is under there and the velocity of her affection far exceeds James. So we'd have to shorten her tether to give the kids a safe place, but she would whine the whole time and James would walk up to her and she would reach out to him beckoningly with her sharp claws and then James would be crying and Jacob would want to, in an appropriate albeit misguided protective fashion, beat a dog for "attacking" his son. And it's more trouble than it's worth.
We LONG for the day when our house is in the village. We don't have to walk. If James wants to play, we can open the front door and let him out. We're not sitting on our cargo but our stuff has a place and a home. And so do we.
Ironically, on our last couple of days there, this "village life" happened. We were in Aringana for a while and the kids finally got over trying to hold James and they were playing happily. And when we were ready to head back to the house, we were told to leave the kids there, they'd bring them by later. For HOURS, James was playing happily instead of getting snapped at in the house. We were able to get work done. It was so nice to have time to ourselves and not be constantly fighting with James.
Now that we're back in town, we again have a shortage of opportunities for James to go play for hours, but we have electricity and with it a wealth of distractions. (Yes, sometimes Daniel Tiger babysits my son. It happens. I have a full time job and I work from home). We also have places to go that helps break up the monotony of his day, (where the real trouble in the village came from not having a place to go). So compared to (true) village life, I wish we were in the village where James was running around socializing (though Daniel Tiger does teach valuable social skills!)
But that house just wasn't working for us!
OUR house is being built now! They broke ground while we were there. We're sending out treatment for the posts and nails with one of the translators on Monday. Then at some point we'll be sending in the tin roofing (the trees they use to make roofing isn't plentiful there so it would take a long time to get enough roofing to cover our house) and other odds and ends like hinges and gutters. They hope to be done in February, which is after our Annual Meeting and before the Director, who accompanies a newly allocating couple out to tell the village that we're there on PBT business, will be headed out of country!
So we'll have a nice break for the Holidays, and time to scramble in packing and prepping for the next trip!
Stay tuned for a post on our house, our floor plan, and our colorful head of construction!
The really really good part.
Here we are in the village. Living the dream that's been motivating our choices independently and as a couple for the past ten years. After having coffee in the morning, we go out to do language learning. Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday are market days. We have bush food sold there for breakfast. Sometimes a tapioc cake, sometimes a plantain topped with ramen noodles and greens, occasionally a fried ball of bread. We go around asking what each thing is:
"ñɨ mum?"
And asking how much it costs
"ñɨ pamata?"
And asking to buy a couple
"arkɨta mut muŋgriman"
After market or on not-market days, we often take a 15 minute walk to Katiati. Someone usually comes to grab Marissa from me and carry her. Everyone loves to hold the white baby. And we sit on someone's porch and learn language. Sometimes asking what things are, sometimes asking what people are doing, and sometimes just learning whatever they're in a mood to teach us. We get to know people. We make friends. James runs around in the village, usually screaming when some child tries to hold him, which is any time he falls down, which is often, because he plays hard.
Around 10, we go home for a snack and work on lunch and do chores.
In the afternoon, we'll go out again. Sometimes to Katiati again, sometimes to Aringana, sometimes to Kakrasapai, (which is very close but more of a boys town, so much less comfortable for me.)
Visiting people under the cool of their morota roofs is a lovely way to spend time.
The really really not good part
Some days it's too hot and clear to make the 15 minute walk in full sun. Some days it's too rainy. So we sit in our house. We try to study our language data, but we have a toddler with fierce cabin fever. Even when he's not fussy, he's ramming into us with the full velocity of his love. He has so much energy and it's all exerted in a physical way and he knows not his own strength.
We're literally sitting on our cargo. So when we're not reprimanding him to stop grinding his head into our leg (we've finally nearly broken him of the head butting habit), we're telling him to stop touching the stuff that's everywhere.
Also we have an infant, who gets into less trouble but is teething and is no less demanding.
We could go under the house which is the only shaded area nearby, but Regina is under there and the velocity of her affection far exceeds James. So we'd have to shorten her tether to give the kids a safe place, but she would whine the whole time and James would walk up to her and she would reach out to him beckoningly with her sharp claws and then James would be crying and Jacob would want to, in an appropriate albeit misguided protective fashion, beat a dog for "attacking" his son. And it's more trouble than it's worth.
We LONG for the day when our house is in the village. We don't have to walk. If James wants to play, we can open the front door and let him out. We're not sitting on our cargo but our stuff has a place and a home. And so do we.
Ironically, on our last couple of days there, this "village life" happened. We were in Aringana for a while and the kids finally got over trying to hold James and they were playing happily. And when we were ready to head back to the house, we were told to leave the kids there, they'd bring them by later. For HOURS, James was playing happily instead of getting snapped at in the house. We were able to get work done. It was so nice to have time to ourselves and not be constantly fighting with James.
Now that we're back in town, we again have a shortage of opportunities for James to go play for hours, but we have electricity and with it a wealth of distractions. (Yes, sometimes Daniel Tiger babysits my son. It happens. I have a full time job and I work from home). We also have places to go that helps break up the monotony of his day, (where the real trouble in the village came from not having a place to go). So compared to (true) village life, I wish we were in the village where James was running around socializing (though Daniel Tiger does teach valuable social skills!)
But that house just wasn't working for us!
OUR house is being built now! They broke ground while we were there. We're sending out treatment for the posts and nails with one of the translators on Monday. Then at some point we'll be sending in the tin roofing (the trees they use to make roofing isn't plentiful there so it would take a long time to get enough roofing to cover our house) and other odds and ends like hinges and gutters. They hope to be done in February, which is after our Annual Meeting and before the Director, who accompanies a newly allocating couple out to tell the village that we're there on PBT business, will be headed out of country!
So we'll have a nice break for the Holidays, and time to scramble in packing and prepping for the next trip!
Stay tuned for a post on our house, our floor plan, and our colorful head of construction!
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