a different kind of sunday

There was still no water today. The electricity flickered on for about seven minutes – just long enough to heat water for some paste tasting oatmeal – but that is little solace against the absence of water. I need to wash my hair. I really really need to wash my hair. Desperation is setting in and tomorrow, after work, I may be forced to resort to a bucket. A throwback to my South Africa days, it doesn’t work well but is better than nothing.

Sundays are touted as lazy and in some respects, interminable. But I had high hopes. After sleeping in until almost 10 – still recovering from last night­- I awoke to a quite house.  BushDiva and Wry-ly had been up early and then returned to bed for more sleep. Only Fancy sat, earphones on, working (or at least pretending to with her departure looming in two days) when I finally emerged from my bed. Sunday stretched before me but I was feeling good – LA invited us to lunch and to hang out.

Of course the invite was for 12 and 12 came and went with no call. Bummed, I figured it was time to rethink my strategy for the day. But before too much time passed, LA sent word that the food was ready. The whole house pulled itself together and we marched past the water pump (the first time for me and BushDiva) to a cluster of houses on the edge of the compound. There we found LA languishing under the shade of two huge trees with four of his friends. They were playfully arguing over a soon emptied bottle of Baileys and tussling each other on the rusting hospital bed in the yard.

Something about our arrival sobered the good time. The playful ribbing slowed and then stopped completely. Then LA’s girlfriend disappeared, little girl sitting at her feet getting her hair corn-rowed neatly and expertly in tow. Next, the professor excused himself. By the time the lunch table and lunch emerged, only Psychology and the woman with the Bailey’s bottle remained. But even as she lingered, she declined to eat with us.

We dug in heartily. The communal bowl was the size of a plastic washtub and was filled generously. Wry-ly and Fancy picked out rice and plantains to maintain their vegetarian status, BushDiva, LA, and myself helped each other break up the fish and remove bones, and Psychology picking here and there between us. Delicious.

Conversation meandered and soon LA and Psychology were leading me and BushDiva out to the small river that borders the compound and sources our lunchtime fish.

Mosquitoes the size of dimes were everywhere by the cooling hour of five so BushDiva and I departed for home with plans to meet up for dinner. But life is fluid and Sundays low-key, so our dinner plans dissolved into conversations at the nursing school, sitting on the side porch while the men drank beers and flagged down a woman selling warm banana bread.

We’ll try dinner again later this week…but in the meantime, LA is hosting more palm butter – this time with fufu- for lunch tomorrow. Days are looking more delicious…I mean interesting!

Tags: food, liberia, travel