Twiddling Thumbs

Ugh. Wharra boring day! Arrived at 9am, still without any clear idea of what I’m supposed to be doing. This is common in the first few weeks for many volunteers, apparently. Turned the computer on and tried to type up some e-mails, but the power kept outing. I think it’s a problem with the surge protector, it keeps beeping before everything shuts off. So, no computer, and there’s nothing in the office. Twiddled my thumbs for a while, signed to a few people who came in. The place always seems to be full of life as most Deaf people can’t get jobs so come to socialise. Léon wasn’t in today, but Bob made a note for the door to keep socialising in the meeting area and out of the main office.

Met a lovely Deaf guy called Apollo, who is seriously well travelled. He's been to the Congo, Tanzania, Burundi, and is originally from Uganda. More of the Ugandan signs are like English because they’re an anglaphone country. Days of the week here are based on French, so Monday is the L handshape, which confuses me, not knowing any French. But Apollo signs the same as Britain for the days. He’s an artist and makes cards out of wood and paper. They’re quite common in the craft centres here and he says he can make about 50 a day if he works hard.

Around lunchtime I was absolutely ravenous. No one goes for lunch here! Same in Martine’s placement, I’ve heard. Another volunteer suggested it was because people couldn’t afford to eat. That might have been the original reason, but I think it’s now established tradition. Bob later took a few of us down to the shop where we had cupcakes and fizzy pop. So, eating does happen, just not at lunchtime. I’ve been told not to eat or drink in front of people by other volunteers. You don’t eat in the street for example, because of the poverty/food issue. All very difficult. I ended up popping down to the shop beneath us, buying a couple of small samosas (only thing available), and eating them there. Very difficult to know what to do, but I was going faint with hunger.

That evening, I went to yet another bar next door (there are a few) with Philip. We had a beer and a couple of goat brochettes (staple pub-food) for about £2! As he pointed out – there we were in the middle of November, sitting outside in the open air, in the middle of Africa, drinking beer and eating brochettes. Still slightly odd to think about. Back home people must be gearing up for Christmas, but here there isn’t even a trace of commercialism. I saw one plastic Christmas tree for sale in the Chinese Shop, but other than that – nada. There aren’t even any religious shops selling icons/statues or rosaries, which is odd for a Catholic country when you think how prevalent they are in places like Italy and Greece.

I think I’ve solved the guard issue, too. About whether to feed him or not. I’ve discovered Damascène likes coffee with honey, so I make him the odd cup of that with a couple of biscuits or a peanut butter sandwich of an evening. Problem essentially solved and everybody happy.

See that little hut behind my house? That's where the guard lives.