Sometimes when you're tucked into your hut for the night, you'll get a craving for something sweet. Now, since you can't just run out to store and grab a tub of ice cream and you're back-up stash of chocolate is probably gone by this time (hey, it's difficult to ration things, even when you know you won't be in town for another 2 weeks), what do you do? I typically crave chocolate. Here are the various ways I cope in a mostly chocolate-less existence.
1) Fight the cravings (if you can't get something and don't have it, it's a lot easier to quit or control yourself since the physical item is unavailable).
2) Eat everything else you can get your hands on that doesn't need to be cooked.
3) Scoop out a few spoonfuls of Blueband margarine, add a few cups of icing sugar, beat and consume. Yum!
Peace Corps survival secrets.
Wednesday, July 23, 2014
Sunday, July 20, 2014
TP, TP Anyone?
During training, all of the trainees are dependent on their host family for everything - food, toiletries, etc. There isn't much time or kwacha for shopping.
One day, I ran out of toilet paper. My host mom had given it to me periodically and on a regular basis before this. Too embarrassed to ask her for more and thinking she must not have any, I spent the afternoon walking around Yudah village. Bowel movements are taboo to mention in Zambia (even if it is a favorite topic of conversation for volunteers) so I was uneasy asking for such a thing as that used to wipe butts. Ducking into all of the tiny tuck shops, I shyly asked each one for toilet paper. To my dismay, there was none to be found.
I wandered over to my friend and neighbors house, Terri, and told her about my quest and the inconvenient result. We laughed and she gave me a few squares from her stash. Stuffing the precious pieces into my sports bra, I went home.
The next day I recounted the story to the other trainees, laughing and turning bright red. This is Zambia, what can you do but tell your friends and laugh at situations like that.
After dinner that night, my mother emerged from the kids room holding 2 rolls of toilet paper. Word must have gotten back to her that her white child had been desperately peeking into shops up and down the road asking for tissue!
One day, I ran out of toilet paper. My host mom had given it to me periodically and on a regular basis before this. Too embarrassed to ask her for more and thinking she must not have any, I spent the afternoon walking around Yudah village. Bowel movements are taboo to mention in Zambia (even if it is a favorite topic of conversation for volunteers) so I was uneasy asking for such a thing as that used to wipe butts. Ducking into all of the tiny tuck shops, I shyly asked each one for toilet paper. To my dismay, there was none to be found.
I wandered over to my friend and neighbors house, Terri, and told her about my quest and the inconvenient result. We laughed and she gave me a few squares from her stash. Stuffing the precious pieces into my sports bra, I went home.
The next day I recounted the story to the other trainees, laughing and turning bright red. This is Zambia, what can you do but tell your friends and laugh at situations like that.
After dinner that night, my mother emerged from the kids room holding 2 rolls of toilet paper. Word must have gotten back to her that her white child had been desperately peeking into shops up and down the road asking for tissue!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)