Africa: Daily Life

Hello!

This is the final blog on Africa -- after this blog, I'm going to start writing about my life from year 6 to year 11 -- adolescence from the perspective of a deaf boy!

I've probably mentioned this before, but Bilolo is located in the middle of the rainforest, so whichever direction you go in, you'll hit forest. It's actually a fairly large village by rural standards; it's longer than it is wide. We lived at the western end, in a large stone house that we rented from a shop-keeper called Allan. The house was enclosed in a fence, with a hut nearby that we used for bonfires. The house had a large living room/dining area, with an office to the side and two adjoining corridors. One led to the kitchen and the back door and the other had 4 bedrooms and a bathroom. The toilet  was outside, with walls made of leaves but no roof. The office was used by me and Karys as a classroom. The living room was my sick-room the second time I had malaria. We also had a treehouse/playhouse in the back garden, under which was a charcoal fire.

The village from the air

View of the house from the front

One half of the living room/dining area

Allan, the man we rented the house from, lived next door, with his family. Beyond their houses, there's practically no buildings, except for the village hall, which I think has been abandoned for years. There were multiple churches, including one near the Festens' house -- however, the one we frequented, for some reason, was near the eastern end of Bilolo.

The Festens' front porch

The Festens lived around 5-10 minutes' walk away from our house -- I think about half way along the village. They also lived in a house made of stone rather than mud bricks. I remember we'd go to the Festens' for a barbecue and sleepover sometimes. On those occasions, we'd have cinnamon rolls for breakfast.

Sometimes our house would be invaded in the middle of the night by bisugi ants (flesh-eating ants), so we'd spend the rest of the night at the Festens' house -- oddly, it only happened when dad was away. He sometimes had to travel to Bangui on his own for work-related stuff.

We had quite a few friends in Bilolo; our mum and dad had friends from all over the village, though me and Karys were mostly friends with the children next door (Allan's place). We got on well with our friends, though Karys and I didn't know the local language, and I don't think the local children knew English. 

Me and Karys playing dolls with two of our friends -- Hermione (pronounced 'Er-me-on'!) and Jan

Karys and Anisette pulling me around in a boat (our laundry basket!) Anisette is the daughter of Ruth, a friend of our parents.

My fifth birthday party -- me, Karys, Kylie, Christi, Anisette and Jan, and Aunt Maria in the background.

Another birthday party -- I'm at the front of the picture. Karys is lying down, surrounded by five friends -- Donation, Garcino and Jean-Daniel, then two others, whose names I can't remember.

Occasionally, in the mornings, I'd go to buy beignets -- they're essentially non-sugary doughnuts with a crispy top layer.

Our parents would have translation work most of the day, but they'd also take turns to teach us. They also ran a clinic on the back porch; they had medical supplies and a book on diseases and injuries.

Karys and I sometimes had water fights -- we each had a bucket full of water, and we would use cups to throw water at each other. When the water level in the bucket was too low for the cup to get much, we'd tip the remainder over each others' head.

We also frequently got parasites in our feet -- we walked barefoot a lot, and there was a type of parasite called a jigger living in the dirt that burrowed into peoples' feet. They had to be dug out of our feet on several occasions.

We went for regular walks in the rainforest -- I remember the most common direction was west. We'd walk past the few houses at the end of the village, down a long, dusty road and into the forest. The rainforest is an interesting place -- dense vegetation, dark and muddy. Dizzyingly tall trees, narrow paths, a tangible silence which combines with the humid atmosphere to create a sensation of heaviness. Something I remember is getting back, seeing Allan's shop in the near distance, hearing crickets chirping in the twilight. It creates an otherworldly atmosphere -- almost a sense of isolation; you're in the middle of a rainforest, no sizeable settlements for miles and miles, except your small village and the neighbouring villages.

Charlie's buried in the forest somewhere -- I don't know exactly where. For years, I was scared of encountering her body, finding her in a state of undeath.

Me, Karys and Mum

Me, Karys and Dad 

Foliage

Tops of the trees

A tree

We also had spectacular rainstorms -- the rain would transform the streets into a giant mud-bath. There'd be streams and rivers of water -- I find that the effect in England is less dramatic. There was also lightning, though we never got hit, thankfully. I remember a thunderstorm which, to me, reflects the power of nature. Our mum wanted to show me and Karys a weather phenomenon where lightning happens inside the clouds -- sheet lightning. Standing on the porch, clouds filling the sky. Literally filling it; they were enormous. Prematurely dark -- it was the afternoon or early evening, but the clouds -- elephantine, dark purple clouds -- blocked out the light. The calm before the storm -- unnaturally still and silent, the only movement the chilling wind. No sound, except the rumble and roar of lightning in the distance, as if the whole world's holding its breath. Every time lightning struck, the clouds glowed -- the sky dazzlingly clear for a brief, vivid second. No living thing outside, except us -- everything else and everybody else huddled in their homes.

Aged 8 and 6 (before Karys' birthday) 

Aged 18 and 17 (ten years later!)

We returned to England several times, in year 1 and year 5, as well as a six-week holiday. During those periods, Karys and I went to St Peter's, Cassington School. I remember on my first day, another boy chased me down the ramp outside our classroom. We became friends later; his (mostly-joking) teasing codified our friendship over the years. I also remember my first friends at Cassington -- Becca Copelin and Taz Hoesli, in the year above. When I first met them, they made a conscious effort to befriend me, which I've always really appreciated. I still remember something they told me -- to stay warm in cold weather, run around to create lots of energy! My favourite part of being friends with Becca and Taz is that they're full of life and energy, and they're also incredibly compassionate, moral people.

In year 5, I wasn't as close to Becca and Taz; I think it was a combination of not having seen them since year 1 (except for a brief time when Becca came to Africa) and the fact that, as they were in year 6 when I was in year 5, they weren't as keen on hanging out with me, as I was a boy. They did still come to my birthday party that year though, so our friendship hadn't decayed that much.
Other friends I remember from Cassington are Jay Revill (the boy who chased me), Zach, Owen, Peter Salter, James Hick. Karys is friends with James' little sister, Charlotte -- they're in the same year, and me and James are in the same year! I also remember Lorna Petty -- she was on the Senior Team when I was in year 12.  There was also Bea, in year 1; Cassington school has a system where students in year 5 and year 6 sit with students in years 1 and 2 during assembly, and help them learn how to read. Bea was my reading partner when I was in year 1; she was in year 6. She would have been in year 12 when I started year 7; unfortunately, she went to a different school to me. In year 5, I ended up being the reading partner for a girl called Szofia -- she was in year 2. We eventually crossed paths again when I was in year 10 -- she went to the same secondary school as me.

School photo

A play of some sort. Taz is right at the end of the line.

In 2007, Becca and her family came to stay in Africa; they only stayed for three weeks, though. They arrived in Bangui, then we all spent a few days in Bangui, then we went to Bilolo for two weeks. At the end of the two weeks, we drove back to Bangui and spent another couple of days with the Copelins before they flew back to England. It was great to see them! We did lots of things together, like going for walks and canoe rides -- we also went  swimming, when we were in Bangui.

Me and Becca in the car!

Me, Karys, Becca and her brother (Ben) in the treehouse

Becca learning the art of leaf-blowing

A Copelin family photo, with an oblivious Robert included as well.

Becca and Ben at the pool, wearing smart clothes.

Becca's mum looking sun-blinded, Ben looking wind-swept and my mum smiling serenely behind them.

Becca and Ben with some wickerwork cars

Becca's dad near the ferry (on the journey between Bilolo and Bangui)

A picture with (almost) all of us -- Becca's mum is presumably taking the picture, and I'm mysteriously absent.

Granny and Uncle Will also came to stay in Africa a couple of times -- before Uncle Will met Aunt Helen. Nana never visited, though, because she was too frail -- if she'd visited, she claimed she would have gone home in a coffin.

This post is probably pretty much the last time I'll write about Africa in my blog; I enjoyed growing up in Africa. It was fun, though I've often wondered what a childhood in England would have been like. My main takeaway from my childhood is that humanity's habit of dividing people based off religion, or ethnicity, or anything else that trivial, is one of the stupidest things we do, as a species. Growing up in Bilolo, me and Karys, Kylie and Christi, were four out of several hundred children in the village; our skin colour didn't matter, nor did our difference in language. And my parents and Uncle Brad and Aunt Maria worked alongside locals -- people native to C.A.R. Race, nationality, skin colour didn't matter to Wycliffe Bible Translators (the company my parents work for) -- they were just human beings, working together so that people could hear the Word of God in their own language. The daily routine of Bilolo -- the adults work and the children learn and play, just as in any village in Europe or America, despite meaningless distinctions such as language and skin colour. In light of the protests in America, and increasing racial violence all over the world, I think it's important to remember the words spoken by Albus Dumbledore (ever the master of wise quotes!) at the end of Goblet of Fire: "Differences of language and habit are nothing at all if our aims are identical and our hearts are open."