Is there a janitor in the house?

I'm beginning to get into the swing of teaching, or at least trying to. Friday though, was a rough day. Before we even started morning prayer one of the kids went to the bathroom on himself, and all over the floor, Number 2 unfortunately, not Number 1. Since it's not like there is janitor I can simply call, or a bottle of bleach to grab, I myself am practically pooping my pants (looking back I'm trying to find the humor in this situation).

Sister handled the situation - grabbing the child, a bucket and gloves to clean up the mess. Unfortunately though, this started the day with complete mayhem. The little boy and the floor had to be cleaned up. We found an extra T-shirt to tie around his waist while his shorts dried. For me, the two worst things were 1) what I'll simply refer to as "the fly situation" (I'll leave it at that); and 2) the fact that I was left alone with the kids for what felt like an eternity.

What I wouldn't do for a bottle of bleach, some baby wipes, and a Disney DVD to pop in right now. Instead, I tried every song I remotely know; luckily the kids have no idea if I mess up, which reminds me I need to do some googling later. Singing usually gets them to stop.They were swinging from the window shades so at times it was pitch black, then they'd yell (in Swahili) that they had to go to the bathroom. They'd dart outside to the separate building with the bathroom and disappearing from my eyesight. I should note here that the bathroom is not a "Mzungu toilet" (white person toilet) but a hole in the ground.

No matter what I do I cannot control the chaos. There is no order, no structure to the day, and Sister is MIA. I think I blocked out the rest of the details. They all tattle on who misbehaved and Sister makes the bad ones go stand at the front of the room. She then makes them each slide on their knees over to me (as if in prayer) to beg my forgiveness in Swahili.

New meaning is given to the phrase "Bad day at work." At least when my clients are giving me a hard time there isn't poop involved. 

I survived the day and the pianist from the church nicely walked me home. We had a lovely chat. After chatting about America and family he asked (just as Sister did, and many do) if I'm married and how many children I have. I tell him I am not married, and don't have children, but explain I have nephews and a goddaughter I love very much. He is shocked that I am not married and cannot understand. We actually stop walking so he can grill me.

Many people here marry by 19. We have a bit of a language breakdown and he asks "When do you want to get married?", but I thought he was asking "How long do you want to be married for?" I reply "Married forever" which he comprehends as "I don't want to  marry ever." He starts laughing hysterically and says "I so happy to meet American girl. So different."

Ai yi yi. I cannot seem to get a break to today! And I've pretty much had some version of this exact conversation with the dozens of people in the village, orphanage, etc.

My walk back from school today

The scenic short-cut. Just a tad different then my daily coffee stop on Varick St. 

I arrive back at the home base, take a quick shower to wash the day away, and quickly pack and eat for weekend safari. The word safari simply just means "trip."  More on that and fun cultural things later. 

Miss you all. Thanks for reading.