Kudos to the Working Girl

The other day as I lay utterly exhausted with cuts covering my knees and a large burn on my hand, I thought of how all my life I have been taken care of. Growing up with parents who sacrificed daily to give me what they couldn’t afford, going to a school where my food & laundry were all done for me, and biggest of all just living in America.

When arriving in Africa I expected all this would change and a large part of it has; but one surprise was that I would have a local village lady work a few mornings for me – hand washing clothes and such. I protested that I did not need it and could do the work myself but was told that this was the lady’s whole income. Needless to say, I did not take away her job. With the holidays she had plans to be gone for a few weeks, and I looked forward to the extra work or so I thought.

That day I decided would be my full work day and I would get everything done that she would normally do. I scrubbed a heaping pile of laundry with a brush, two buckets, and detergent that strips all skin from your hands. By the sixth trip to re-fill my water buckets my back began to complain loudly with my knees soon following suit. I felt as if every line on my hands were being eaten away. As I rinsed and hung the laundry up to dry, it dawned on me that it was not even noon yet. I was ready to stop for the day but there was still a full working day ahead of me. I moved to hoeing the garden to prepare the soil for planting tomorrow. As the sun began to gift me with more freckles, I dropped to my knees to pick up rocks. After I had carted away the rocks, the walls & floors of the washroom, cook room, and living rooms were calling out my name. The fire had to be made and the baking for the week still needed to be finished. By this time the laundry was ready to be taken down and folded. Once all this was done, my body protested loudly to all movement and I collapsed on the floor.

Oh man, kudos to the working girls of old!