Today was wash day for the boys. That means they grab their dirty clothes, a basin, and a bar of soap, and head to the washing area. In my mind I was picturing some sort of a laundromat. You know, like a modern building with washers and dryers. I don't know why I expected this, but I did. We walked for about 20 minutes and arrived at the "laundromat". It was basically a large cement platform in the middle of a field with a square-sized hole taken out to provide access to the water below the platform. The boys wash their clothes every week, so they have the routine down well. They bring their basin to the platform and fill up with water. Then they bring it over to the grass and rub the soap on their clothes. They douse it with water and scrub and scrub and scrub. Some of the boys are so protective and particular of their clothes that they get them sparkling clean. Other boys don't care so much and get the task over relatively quickly. I helped Emmanuel, David, and Edison, whom I think preferred that I hadn't help them. After I "cleaned" their clothes they went back and re-did them.
Not only do the boys wash their clothes at this well, they also clean themselves. They wash their hair and bodies with the soap, all wearing either towels or shorts. It was actually quite endearing because they would wash each other's backs. One would bend forward and another boy would wash his back and legs and feet. Jean Pierre seems to be the master at this and would be the main washer. Theresa decided to wash her hair, so she dunked her head in the basin. I decided to humor them a bit too and have them wash me. After all, it had been a few days since I had a real shower. So, I took off my shoes, socks, and shirt and rolled my jeans up. They were very interested in my tattoo on my chest as well as my huge, rippling muscles (well, to them they are gigantic). Then Jean Pierre washed my back and Emmanuel and Jean Pierre each washed a foot. I was quite the spectacle because at this point, some other small children and mothers had gathered to watch. Emmanuel also washed my sneakers and Jean Pierre gave me his flip flops to wear on the way back. One thing is for sure...the boys love and care for us. They treat us so well. I really regretted that I hadn't brought my camera with me. It would have been a fun sight to see, but I will bring my camera the next time.
Not only do the boys wash their clothes at this well, they also clean themselves. They wash their hair and bodies with the soap, all wearing either towels or shorts. It was actually quite endearing because they would wash each other's backs. One would bend forward and another boy would wash his back and legs and feet. Jean Pierre seems to be the master at this and would be the main washer. Theresa decided to wash her hair, so she dunked her head in the basin. I decided to humor them a bit too and have them wash me. After all, it had been a few days since I had a real shower. So, I took off my shoes, socks, and shirt and rolled my jeans up. They were very interested in my tattoo on my chest as well as my huge, rippling muscles (well, to them they are gigantic). Then Jean Pierre washed my back and Emmanuel and Jean Pierre each washed a foot. I was quite the spectacle because at this point, some other small children and mothers had gathered to watch. Emmanuel also washed my sneakers and Jean Pierre gave me his flip flops to wear on the way back. One thing is for sure...the boys love and care for us. They treat us so well. I really regretted that I hadn't brought my camera with me. It would have been a fun sight to see, but I will bring my camera the next time.
1 comment:
it really brought tears to my eyes to picture this sweet, sweet moment. it's just so precious and beautiful, I love their hearts and the way they care for each other and all of you...so humbling.
I did laugh a bit about how you tried to help the boys and they clearly didn't think you did a good job...next time :)
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