African Sounds

I’m very tempted to record the sounds that I hear, because they’re so much of what makes things unique.  I don’t have a good sound recorder, so I’ll just have to take notes.

• ·     Tourchy and I were in the garage one day, and I heard a noise coming from the roof.  I don’t know how to describe it- maybe something sliding around, kind of something scuttling or rattling.  Tourchy said that sounds meant there was a lizard on the roof.
  ·         Last night, it rained here.  It rains much more here in the north than in the more desert like south, but I still did not expect it to rain much during the winter dry season.  The sound of rain hitting a tin roof is unbelievable.  It rained for all of 10 minutes, but it seemed intense.
  ·         Yesterday, I was in the office working.  I heard the bleating of goats- pretty close by- and then heard my coworkers shooing them away from the building.  The office/factory is right next to a residential pathway, which means I overhear conversations and the occasional animal.
  ·         I wake up every morning to roosters crowing.  There’s also an occasional donkey neigh (is that what they do?) or a cow lowing. 
  ·         The tv is ALWAYS on in the house, and Samuel listens to the news at a volume that I consider to be way too loud.  Because all of the walls are solid concrete, closing a door doesn’t do much to mute the sound. 

My host family has very different boundaries than I am accustomed to- I guess Americans tend to be kind of private.  They take a closed door as a mere suggestion- my host siblings knock and come in, and only leave if I’m asleep.  If the door is open, they walk in.  They have poked through most of my belongings (even now, Innocent walked in and read what I was writing and said, “You are writing?”) and they often walk into my room and say, “Give me sweets.” Or, “Give me your small notebook.” 

I know that culturally, my host family is much more used to sharing things, and being open with things, but it still annoys me.  I give them things if I feel like sharing, and if I don’t, I don’t.  I can’t decide if they’re just more open and insistent because they are young, or they’re culturally more used to sharing, or if me and my things are just so interesting that they can’t help themselves.   Probably a mixture of all three.  My host parents are more restrained- my host mother will still check on me and knock on my door, but she doesn’t pry.   Anyway, my host siblings are pretty generous with their things- if they have a snack, they get me one, if they have a toy they share it with me, so overall I don’t mind explaining my hair mousse or sunscreen to them. 

 On Saturday, I wanted to sleep in.   At 7:30 (I had decided I would sleep in until 8) Tourchy came into my room and asked me if I was still sleeping.  I told her that I wanted to sleep in, and she said that she would tell Santa, and that I would be in hot soup.  I took that to mean I should probably get out of bed.