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1997 in Zimbabwe, part 13

Anna and Kuda in the backyard with the laundry

Anna and Kuda in the backyard with the laundry

This is the thirteenth in an ongoing series of posts that capture journal entries from my incredible trip to Zimbabwe in 1997. You can read more about my motivation for the journey and why I’m revisiting it now in the original post. I was 21 at the time I wrote this.
 
Part 13
7/8/97, Chitungwiza, Zimbabwe
On Monday I discovered that I was to spend yet another day in a meeting but I didn’t mind. It was a staff meeting that takes place on the first Monday of every month. I actually participated a lot between writing letters and sending email when the discussions got too bogged down. I’ve finally started receiving messages from people. On Friday I got email from Jennie and Francis. On Saturday while I was away I got a postcard from Mom, two letters from Grandma Betty and a card from Graham. Monday I got email from Jennie and today I got a letter from her and a package containing my hairbrush.

The saga of that hairbrush continues. I took it from ex-boyfriend Dylan because it was the only brush I had found to get through my often tangled curls. I forgot it at home and Jennie, wonderful woman that she is, sent it to Zimbabwe for me. Soon, maybe it will travel completely around the world! So anyway, I’m feeling much better simply because I now have some sort of contact with most of the people I love and miss very much. I called Mom and Dad on Monday morning (Sunday night their time). They were happy to hear from me, I had been sending Mom email but I guess her account is disconnected. I called Dad at the regular home number and he gave me Mom’s number at the Catholic church rectory. I guess they have been staying there too because it is currently vacant. I hope that house they are building gets done soon because their living situation is getting stranger by the minute!

My hand is hurting so I’m going to stop now. I am unsure of how this “travelog” will play out. I’ve been using it as a record, but worry that I’m writing too much or not enough, am I getting too emotional? I have a separate journal for more private reflection. I wonder who will read this when my trip is over. Anyway, whoever you are, reading this account, I hope you find this adventure that I’m on to be interesting. I’m trying to make note of the cultural differences so that I, and perhaps you, can have a better understanding of life in this particular part of the world. So without guidance, I will continue to plow on…

Another point of interest, I washed my underwear in a bucket full of soap in the shower/toilet room last night. I guess it is taboo for someone else to wash it. Anna the maid washes everything else for me, even socks and bras, but not underwear. So I washed it and left them in a bucked overnight and she hung them up outside for me today. Apparently, once they are washed it is OK to at least hang them up. They came back a bit wrinkled but clean at last. It feels good to have clean underwear!
 
Continued in Part 14

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