Guest Post-Say it Ain't To(toe) *

 Mom covered the important stuff in the last blog post but here are few musings on my end… 

      For me, the image that will endure long after the events of the trip have blurred together, is arriving in Komtoega. Nat’s village sort of appears out of nowhere. After driving through a stretch of nothing but dust clouds, we began to see the outlines of buildings and animals. As we got closer and rolled our windows down, the children came running alongside our car, barefoot, grinning and chanting “Nat-a-lee,” “Nat-a-lee;” her dogs, Puppy and Milu at their heels. Before we had even gotten out of the vehicle they were bowing their heads with their arms crossed, a sign of respect. A group of the children went straight to the trunk and began placing our (relatively heavy) suitcases on their heads and carrying them inside. The rest of them stood with their hands out, waiting for us to shake and speaking to us in Bisa. Their enthusiasm never waned— even after they recognized that we could not speak their language. They followed us around all three days, every time we left Nat’s home, across the clinic grounds or through the market.

Dabre making to!

     The adults were no less enthused by our arrival. Natalie’s close friends Dabre and Mariatu  both prepared to (toe) for us to eat. To put it politely, I’m not really a fan. However, I recognized how extremely rude it is to deny food which takes such time and work to prepare. I did my best to eat when the chefs were watching. Apparently I wasn’t hiding it as well as I thought—Natalie thought it was hilarious to spoon out heaping bites and hand them to me to eat. Every time someone in Natalie’s village dropped by the house to offer us gifts, I silently pleaded that it wouldn’t be a communal bowl of to.

     Staying in village was harder than I expected and I think we all painfully realized how much we rely on the material comforts of air conditioning, a microwave, a toilet… I felt frustrated that I couldn’t charge my phone and then ashamed for not being able to last three days without it. In the end, leaving Komtoega was surprisingly bittersweet. Everyone had been so welcoming and gracious and they seemed genuinely upset to say goodbye. I have to be honest, visiting was unbelievably remarkable but I know I wouldn’t be able to do two years in the village. I remain truly in awe of Natalie’s gumption. She’s got tougher skin (and a tougher stomach) than I do. I remain unconvinced that the two of us are related...       

* Title Provided by John Moore