Where the Rooster Crows

Where we live, there are a handful of roosters that leave near us and we hear them crowing throughout the day.  There is rarely a time that a full minute passes that we don't hear a rooster crowing.  (I used to have the impression that roosters only crowed first thing in the morning, when the sun came up. What a laugh!) Most of the time, I don't notice, or if I do, it doesn't bother me.  But, sometimes, for unknown reasons, it bothers me. A lot.  Like do these things ever shut up?? 

  That seems to be a symbol of living here.  There are so many little things here that are different, or that don't seem to work as we expect, and I usually don't notice or it doesn't bother me at all.  Once in a while though, I feel like shouting, "Can't anything work right!?" 

   So many things here are different.  We have a milkman that rides his bike up to our gate and sells up fresh milk in washed out soda bottles.  A man rides his bike down our street selling fish from a basket on his bike.  We can't go on a walk anywhere without stares, points, and "Mzungu! Mzungu!" (White person).  We have to buy bottled water, or use a filter because the water is literally sandy when it comes out of the pipe.  You can see a layer of sand if you fill a pot with it, and it is a brownish color.  You are expected to greet everyone: the shopkeeper, the guy riding by on a bike, the strangers walking down the road.  The electricity can go out at any time, for unknown reasons, and stay off for hours without any explanation.  There are so many things that are different from our culture.

  Sometimes, I don't even notice, like the stray dogs that wander the neighborhood, or the chickens that roam free on the street.  It doesn't phase me to see 4 people on a motorcycle, one of them an infant (no helmets of course).  I don't bat an eye to see several men hanging off the back of a semi truck on the highway.  Most of the time things don't bother me.  I enjoy shopping for vegetables at the market every week.  We are used to seeing monkeys in our yard all of the time.

  But sometimes, occasionally,  Things Bother Me.  I'm glad these times aren't very often.  The other day, I was at the market, and the stall vendors were shoving vegetables in my face (as usual), and asking me what I wanted, and how much of what, etc.  They do this every week. But, for some reason, it suddenly was too much.  I couldn't figure out how to say "Leave me alone" in Swahili, because I was so flustered.  Finally, I was able to buy what I needed and get out of there. 

  It's like you never really  get over culture shock.  No matter how long you're here, it will sneak up and grab you unexpectedly out of the blue.  I'm very thankful that it doesn't get me very often.