“I collect clothes-they keep building and building. I buy them instead of having them washed.”
The morning is gone. Blame my tardiness on the sun. Because the day is warm and lovely, I dawdled and sat out on the deck for the longest time, even after I’d finished with my coffee and papers. I watched the birds. The goldfinches are back, mostly males still bright and beautiful in their summer colors, and my crow too is back. He watched quietly from his usual pine tree perch. A slight breeze wafted the aroma of food from my neighbor’s kitchen to my deck . The aroma is both familiar and foreign. It is familiar because I smell it often and foreign because I have no idea what’s cooking. My neighbors are Brazilian, and when I ask about the food, I get the name of the dish in Portuguese. I also get a list of ingredients, but that doesn’t help all that much. Some of those are in Portuguese as well.
The winter covers for the new furniture arrived yesterday, but I left them in their boxes. It’s not yet time to give up the deck. When a sweatshirt and the chiminea stop being enough to keep me warm, I’ll cover the furniture.
Because yesterday was a work day, today I play. That’s one of the rules I established when I retired: no two days in a row are to be wasted on any sort of work. The only exception is making the bed. That’s no chore for me. It has to do with my innate need for tidiness.
My mother never made us do chores when I was growing up. That was just the way it was, and I never gave it any thought. She made our beds, washed clothes and did the dishes every day. When we came down in the morning, breakfast was on the table, and our lunches were already packed for school. I’d throw my dirty clothes in the hall hamper, and a day or two later they would magically reappear washed and folded. It wasn’t until college that I learned to use a washing machine.
On a recent Peace Corps Ghana blog, I saw a picture of line after line of clothing drying in the sun. The caption described the clothes as belonging to trainees who had washed them in buckets. Not once did I ever do that. Even during the first two weeks of training, people found a laundry lady. We’d bring her our clothes one day and fetch them back the next. Our per diem money during training was small small, as they say in Ghana, but none of us ever thought paying for laundry was extravagant, especially after we saw a Ghanaian iron. It was kept hot with charcoal.
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keepthecoffeecoming.blog 
September 14, 2010 at 1:47 pm
The day started out cold and nasty, changed to sunny and warm and now it´s cold and nasty once again. A fire is burning in the stove.
I had to do all kind of chores. Wash the dishes, clean the appartement and wash clothes. Either by hand or machine. I hated it back then but nowdays I´m really happy I was forced to do that. Especially since my washing machine broke down long ago and I never gets away to buy a new one 🙂 🙂 🙂
Have a great day now!
Christer.
September 15, 2010 at 10:20 am
Christer,
It stayed a beautiful day all of yesterday, and today is the perfect fall day with lots of warm sun but a bit chilly in the shade.
I still hate chores, but I also hate a dusty house so I clean and wash.
September 14, 2010 at 7:46 pm
What wonderful Peace Corps memories. My daugher was so upset with the Village Chief choosing which kids got to go to school that we supported her paying their tuition by having them do her laundry, carry water from the water hole, clean her hut, and sometimes do ironing and take out trash. She lived with little servants but hey, they all went to school! And they loved it and her. I think I wrote here once how we had to pass the currency. Whatever it took. We were proud parents to do so.
September 15, 2010 at 10:24 am
Z&Me,
It’s amazing as I still can see in my mind’s eye the narrow dirt path to the woman’s compound. I think Africa was all so new to me that those early days were forever etched in my memory.
In Ghana, primary and middle schools were free. Students paid fees for secondary schools and training colleges, but the training college fees weren’t little, mostly for uniforms and materials, as students who attended had to sign a contract to teach for five years after passing out of school.
September 15, 2010 at 10:18 am
My mother had us doing our own laundry (with varying levels of supervision) as soon as we got a new, safe washing machine. Before that we had one of those old wringer ones that was too dangerous for us to use on our own. It would grab your fingers and hair. Ask me how I know. Anyway, she hated doing laundry and so do I. I have enough things to last two weeks before I have to think about doing laundry. If I had to go down to the river and smack the clothes on a rock, I would downsize to two outfits and try not to wear them very often. 😀
September 15, 2010 at 10:27 am
Caryn,
I remember the wringer machine sitting in the back of the cellar near the door. I used to watch my mother wring the clothes.
I often saw clothes washed in ponds and rivers when I was in Africa, but the most amazing sight was when I was in Niamey, Niger. Nigerians were washing clothes against the rocks in the Niger River while a motorboat filled with whites was whizzing down the river toting a water skier.
September 16, 2010 at 6:12 am
My 18-year-old Catalan niece has just started university. Last week I had to accompany her, and her mother (i.e my sister-in-law), to take stuff there in our van.
As we unloaded, her mum offered to make her bed up, and then had to write down instructions for how to make “boiled rice”! I see she’s got an interesting learning process to go through, maybe even trickier than her academic studies!
September 16, 2010 at 9:59 am
brian,
She’ll learn quickly, but I suspect the bed will be left unmade quite often, all the nap in later.
I can remember thinking I had broken the washing machine when it made that horrific buzzing sound. I knew it was calling everyone to come see who broke the machine. I knew nothing about a tilting washing machine drum.