Today is the one year anniversary of the death of Ritha’s husband. (I can’t believe that a year has passed by already!!) According to the cultural tradition of his tribe, his family must gather together at the home of the widow. Thankfully they all bring food and Ritha just has to cook lots of rice (bad enough as it is...-they cook on a wood fire). I hope tomorrow to hear about how it all went. She’s actually rather sick and tired of all the cultural traditions that seem to trump everything else including common sense.
Ice and I talk a fair bit and some of our conversations are rather interesting/unique. In her culture it is quite normal to speak openly about your bodily functions. Ice’s Dad built a toilet in front of their house, I think the refuse goes into the river below it, and as most people in her area don’t have a toilet, they use Ice’s Dads. So there is no privacy as to who is using the facilities, when and for how long. So when Ice experienced some difficulties after New Years, all her friends and neighbours were commenting on the amount of time she spent in the washroom.... For us Westerners, this lack of privacy would drive us crazy, but for the folks here it is just a normal part of life. Anyways, she tells me about these difficulties, and I call a friend who is a nurse and get the appropriate meds, which in this case was metronidazol (that’s for you Martina).