The day I got back to the Cooperative after the 4th of July festivities, my about-to-be-Host Dad asked me when I was going to move into my new room. It had been about finished before I left town, but the cement was still letting out a bit of moisture and I figured rent would be easier if I just moved in at the beginning of a new month. I said, oh, give me two day to get my stuff reorganized and ready. He said, but I already have men lined up to help tomorrow.
So, I moved the next day.
It amounted to a parade through town of all of my possessions in the arms or strapped to the backs of four cheerful men. They were game to take every load by themselves, including my stove and refrigerator. This was down a steep rocky slope, along a road, and then 100 yards down a narrow path with coffee bushes crowding the way. The one thing they broke down and shared the load on was my dresser. All four ended up pairing up and carrying it with each person shouldering a corner, and they even walked the long way around to avoid taking the steep path.
I have to say, that I have always hated moving (I know, join the club). This was bar none the easiest moving experience I have had. It’s enough to make me rethink the do-it-yourself mentality I usually have when approaching big projects. Admittedly, I didn’t have to pay these men – my host family thanked them with a snack, and they may or not have been given some cash by the cooperative. But, I’m really thinking that hiring movers may be the way to go to make my life a lot easier next time I have to transplant myself and my belongings. Stateside, that is.
My new home is a large room built onto the end of my host family’s existing house. I have my own entrance and two windows. The ceiling covers ¾ of the room, leaving me a space to put things up in the loft for storage. I have all my kitchen stuff with me, but am eating all my meals with the host family for the time being. It’s a little less space than the last place I was, but doesn’t feel overcrowded at all. The family built me my own latrine, and the cooperative loaned us a black water tank to capture rain water for my use. We share the pila, but I only do laundry about once a week so we haven’t had much waiting on one another to get access.
|With the windows open. Note my bright yellow mud boots on the left. I get great comments on those.|
|The door is open... the wall on the right continues until it hits the far end.|
|The gate is a huge help in keeping out small animals, and small children... |
while still letting in a bit of daylight!
|My own brand new private latrine. |
It's a curious feeling breaking one in for the first time...
and knowing that if it smells there is no one to blame but myself.
|The water tank in the foreground, my bathing stall in the background. |
Plus, a sidewalk from my door to the bathing stall!
Apparently they didn't want me getting muddy on my way back from the bath. I'm so spoiled.
|The family's water deposit.|
|The older two kids at the door to the kitchen. |
You can see part of the firewood stash and some drying laundry off to the left.
Home Sweet Home.