It’s Saturday. The sky is a mix of gray and blue with the humidity making me sweat. Rain is coming. Chelsea is at work, tending to her Youth Friendly Services like every Saturday. I am home, with our kitty, contemplating and cleaning.
I was pondering that three years in the future, in our cushy, developed country, I don’t think I will remember these mundane times. I may have an impression of what I accomplished on these chore-ridden Saturdays, but I won’t know the details.
So this entry is for the mundane.
I finished eating oats and I drank my two cups of coffee. I fed the cat a little bit ago, but she is whining for more. Sometimes she enjoys playing with her string, her Guyanese homemade toy, or a wad of paper when she realizes I won’t give in to her meowing demands; other times, she curls up either in my lap, or in her cubby, or in someplace where it’s cool and “cat” naps for spell. Now she sleeps by my feet.
I went to the library today, searching for a secondary project. Every other Saturday students from the nursery level to secondary school come to literacy/phonics classes in the library. A nursery school teacher runs it, but today I offered my services. I worked with a group of 7th and 8th graders helping them with their writing. I will probably do it again next time, if nothing else comes up.
After I got home I did up the dishes and swept my apartment, which I do every Saturday. Now when I sweep I separate my floor into sections: kitchen, table area and antique orange rug, above and below this orange rug, the main rug on which my couch sits, above and below that relic, and the wooden slats before the sliding glass door. In each section, I sweep the dust and dirt into organized little piles, then, with a small, pink hand brush, I sweep the piles into my bright pink dustpan. Then, I head outside to the porch, and with my “outside” broom, which is really only long stalks of dried grass tied together, I sweep off my porch, pushing the dried mud off the steps. Some Saturdays I will sweep out the other three bedrooms and two bathrooms, then mop everything in its entirety, but not today.
A little later today I will squat in the second bathroom and vigorously rub clothes against themselves in the soapy, dirty water (dirty because they’ve been soaking for at least 3 hours) thus washing them. Then, I will turn on the shower tap and rinse the clothes in a bucket of continuously running, rust coloured pipe water, grabbing an end of the fabric, and dipping them, sometimes pushing water out bucket, until the clothes are sopping with less soap. After which I will hang them on my outside clothesline to dry. However, they will probably not dry because, during the rainy season, I guarantee, it will rain on them before they’re completely bereft of moisture.
After the laundry is safely hanging outside the day is usually mine. Sometimes I read, post a blog, nap, and all in all relax. Some weeks I will head up into Block 22 and help Tony with a support group or take a car to visit and help Chelsea, but probably not today.
Chelsea will be home a little after 4 and then we’ll head off to the market to purchase food for the week. And who knows what the night will bring.
But this is simply the mundane.
Here’s a question that has been bugging me for weeks, perhaps you all can help me answer it:
In order for them to empower others do they themselves need to be empowered?
Much love,
T & C
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