I’m standing at the sink rinsing lentils in a colander. The cool water falls over and around my fingers as I bury them among the pale green disks, aimlessly enjoying the texture against my skin.
At in-between moments like this, my mind often drifts to Peace Corps. Now that I’m writing about that period of my life, it’s coming alive for me again, and I’m striving to remember details.
How would I have done this rinsing without this steady stream of clean water out of the tap?
I remember the way I stood helplessly at the sink of my host family in Arusha, holding a sponge but uncertain how to wash dishes without running water. My host sister was my age, and very pretty. Amused, she took the damp sponge from my hand and showed me how to rub it against a bar of soap to create a thick white film, then swish it around in the cold washing water, rub the lather over the dishes, dump the gray water and refill the bucket, and dip the soapy dishes in the clean water to rinse. Voila! (Or, in Swahili, Kumbe!) More or less clean, and with little water wasted.
The system became even simpler upon reaching my village after training. No one used manufactured sponges there. I was shown how to cut several inches of thick, cream-colored rope and fray it into a ball, using it for most dish cleaning. For the really tough, burnt pots, at the edge of the sink I kept a little tin filled with sand from the back of the house, which I took in my fingers and scraped on the burnt spots with the frayed rope. It worked great. Ron and I imagined the advertising campaign back home: “Try our new, foolproof product: All Natural Sand! Better than Palmolive!”
Coming back to the States, it was strange to be able to turn a knob and see cold, clean water running fresh from the sink. To see hot water was another miracle altogether.
Despite the convenience, though, I missed the simplicity of carrying and dumping my water by hand. I missed the hours spent under the sun, washing my clothes and thinking about this and that. I missed the way my bucket baths drew me out of the house and across the courtyard, where I could look up at a silent chorus of stars, my path lit with moonlight bright as dusk.
