Monday, May 19, 2008


Blisters here, blisters there, blisters everywhere. Out in the countryside people use their hands. There isnt some fancy machine to do all the work for them. I have finally partaken in the traditional activity of breaking down my skin so that it can heal even tougher. Digging a garden in my backyard. Blister. Pulling buckets of water from the well. Blister. Pounding coos with a mortar and pestle. Blister. Shelling massive amounts of peanuts. Blisters.

If you yourself have no blisters youve either worked really hard or harldy worked. Go dig a hole and throw some seeds in there it builds character.

Thatch vs. Rain

The first rains came on the night of May 6th. First there were flashes in the distance and as they approached the drops began to fall.

I realized that a land with this much sand, for a few moths every year, must become a land of mud. And so it did. But not for long as the storm soon passed. This was simply the first taste of what will come in the following weeks. Or so Im told.

With the rain that night came the wind. Whistling, window-slamming wind. I must admit that at first I doubted the structural integrity of my thatch roof. Could it withstand such gusts I asked my self, and would the rain seep through, wreaking havoc on the inside of my home? As I lay on my bed below the roof, I clutched a flashlight in my hand. Whenever a particularly fierce wave of wind blew past I would shine the light on the roof and make sure it was still there and without a gaping hole. I awoke in the morning still holding my flashlight. The roof greeted me above, in perfect form.

Im now sold on thatch roofs. And you know what they say, once you go thatch you never go back.