An ironic contrast to the bold label above the door, the dark storage closet looked like anything BUT a library. Books filled unopened boxes sealed with cobwebs. More books stacked up broken shelves amid piles of rat poop. And even more books littered the dusty cement floor. Termites had sawn through dozens of pages, and dirt caked dozens more. Books, yes; a library, not quite.
Here’s a virtual tour of my house. Enjoy! –JDF
Never in my life have I felt comfortable talking about body functions. But this is Peace Corps. And now, my most frequent topic of conversation is about poop. And since I know you’ve all been wondering, let’s talk about poop.
I finally caved and gave into my lifelong hatred of cats.
The stray neighborhood cat was purring incessantly outside my bedroom window and after hours of sleeplessness, I finally decided to get up and see why it was crying so loudly. It was, after all, my fault the cat was homeless and hungry in the first place.
Auntie is my new little sister, a 4-year-old orphan my family cares for. And although she is less than a quarter of my size, she has appointed herself my body guard.
As I was moving into my new home, my father turned to me and relented that he wished the house could be nicer. Hearing those words from a Gambian as you step into what will be your living space for the next two years is a scary moment.