Of plastic kettles and other things.

When I first arrived in Rola, I was intrigued by the number of stripy plastic kettles i saw. They seemed about as useful as chocolate fireguards, speaking of chocolate, tere is none here, or at least I haven't seen any.The total lack of fridges might have something to do with it. Anyway, back to the kettles. It didn't take very long to realise that they go to the toilet with them for washing, which also explains why the floor is always wet on the left hand side. I still don't like the the ground so a real toilet will be a bonus when I next visit Freetown. Eating etiquette is very strict. Food is not touched with the left hand, all food is eaten with the right. I was eating out of the communal dish the other day with my spoon when someone took it away and said it was time I ate like an african so I did. You mix the rice and sauce to make a squashy sausage and then put your hand right up to your mouth to eat. A bit messy but the plastic kettles are there to pour water on the hand to wash.

Last Sunday was a special day at church. They were collecting money for the youth group. Mass took 2 hours and the singing and collections etc from the youth group took nearly another hour. I hope I earned enough brownie points because I skipped off this morning because I had things I had to do before the car goes back to Freetown this afternoon.

I spent Friday and Saturday in Maronka, the little village with the primary school. I had another ride on the back of a bike taxi. The drivers are really skillful, going through mud and huge puddles and across log bridges. This time I stayed overnight but the grass mattress wasvery hard. I still slept, I ws tired. there ae 27 boys and girls who live in. Some are children of staff but most are rescued by Miriam. I have mentioned little Binta before. Her mother was in jail and she had been sevrly neglected by the person she was left with. Whenever I go, she rushes up and clings on and pushes all the others away.She is much better now. When she first arrived, she would not talk to anyone, now she plays and is happy. Little Ibrahim was taken from a severly alcoholic mother. He is 9 but really small and doesn't seem to grow at all. All the little one cling on and poke my skin and feel my hair

I was in the compound chatting this morning when a bike turned up with a boy on the back who gave me a lovely salad dish with noodles and hard boiled eggs and a few real baked beans sent by one of the other teachers. A lovely gesture and nice to have some food I recognise. I eat rice and stewed leaves and gari but I don't look forward to it. Most eggs are hard boiled as soon as they are laid. A good precaution in a land without fridges but I also suspect it has something to do with the fact they all run loose with the cocks so the eggs are fertile.

Will sign off now and maybe have a little sleep soon, it has been a hot morning althought he clouds are gathering so we are most likely in for a soaking later.

Pat