19.10.04

Went back to the scabby, infectious village today. Andy brought a bar of soap so if the crusty handed kid came back he could really look, then wash his hands. He's only about three. I think we were all glad when he showed up with his grandfather. Andy took another look at him, holding his hand this time, and I took a picture. It's pretty awful. Then he washed his hands and then gave the bar of soap the the boy and grandfather, after another dose of antibiotic. His hand actually looked a little better already.

They butchered a goat today and I ran out to watch but was too late to see anything but the hanging meat being taken apart. A few carefully looked-up words, however, managed to communicate that they're going to do another one the day after tomorrow and will come get us from our room before they do. Oh man, now I'm not sure I want to see that. I guess you get used to it.

I thought about that when they brought someone in to the kabelli--the fenced village center where the health clinic and prison usually are--on a white stretcher--a gabi slung between two thin, limbed trees. The crowd's attention was diverted away from us. I wanted to go look too. We figured it wouldn't be right, but I could get away with it. I didn't though, especially after Baileyin told us that he thought it was a corpse, not a sick person. Yesterday people said that there was a woman in the jail who had murdered her husband. That is so creepy. It really hangs a sinister shadow behind what seems like hard, but honest, village life. Ew, ew, ew. Then I really didn't want to go look, but I kept peeking and saw the corpse move. So I think Baileyin was mistaken and they must have done something with the body earlier.

How would a woman kill another person out in a village? What would cause her to do it? And how would people find the body, and find out she'd done it? What will they do with her? Have her live out the rest of her life in a tin-roofed jail in the center of town? What if they had kids? What if the mom had actually made the kids participate? The whole thing is just really creepy. Remembering the dark in those huts only feeds my malignant imagination.

On a much lighter, brighter note, the MM's left today. (That in itself isn't brighter, just the MM's in general.) Bob and Pat gave us their town pin and their card with phone number and address, giving us a standing invitation to their loft and telling us we are special; the others gave us two mini Butterfinger bars. Andy scarfed his immediately, and asked if I'd get over it if he ate mine. We got the opthomoscope back (I now know the proper name for it) and gave them a couple postcards to mail in Addis. Then we got some hugs from Pat and Bob and handshakes from everyone else, and they were off. We had "and spaghetti na meat sauce inna tomahto sauce" and "and party tikus wuha"--a kettle of hot water for tea for dinner. I?m the one with the cold now. It's miserable. I think I'd rather have malaria. Then at least my nose wouldn't be so raw. We brought every disinfectant and over-the-counter anti-diahrreal known to medecin with us, but no Vaseline and no thermometer.