Jungle Hall

When I arrived last August, my house had not been lived in for some time. We needed to build a platform for my water tank, dig a pit and build an outhouse over it, make a washhouse, replace the walls and the back of my house, cement the floor, make a window, place screening to keep bats out, nail boards over large gaps in the front, wire the house for the few nights a month that we have electricity, install locks and door handles, and finally, replace a single rafter that had been eaten to paper by termites. All this had been scheduled to be complete three months previously, in May, but while all this materialized, Peace Corps made arrangements for me to stay in the office of the local non-profit organization, which functions as a guesthouse. I asked a village chief whether I would be in the guesthouse for as long as two weeks, and he told me no, probably one week.

Now, after thirteen and a half months, finally, I have moved into my house. During the final week of training, last July, I was told that I could not go to my assigned site of Goninimofo because the Peace Corps house had not yet been built. Ironically, David, from this year’s class of volunteers moved into his house in Goninimofo before I could move in to mine here in Diitabiki.

We were very productive that first month, August 2008, until my counterpart and I both caught Dengue fever. After I came back, it was nearing planting season and everyone understandably was busy. The work I could accomplish on my own, I did right away. The help that I needed became an avenue for forming relationships. Jopie, the grandson of the paramount chief, helped me replace the back of my house and build a window. Heni donated eight planks and, along with Barka, helped me cement the floor. I cut a swath of forest for my friend’s planting ground and gave computer lessons to the village electrician, and when the time came, they helped me in return. Eventually, the only remaining work that I needed help with was the termite-destroyed rafter.

After a few months of distractions and slow going, I told my counterparts that as soon as my house was complete, I would move in, but that I needed to begin the projects for which I had come to Drietabiki. Having completed what I could do on my own, I told my counterparts that whenever they were ready to help me, I would put whatever projects I was doing on hold, working with them until the house was finished.

Living in the guesthouse, I did my best to manage and clean the place for the organization and their occasional guests. I negotiated for the organization when multiple prices had been communicated and advertised the guesthouse when Peace Corps or other organizations needed to come to Diitabiki. This, unfortunately, led to a status quo, and after more months, it occurred to me that I might never live in my house. I began to develop close friendships with the people in that part of the village, Adiise Konday.

Just before my most recent trip to the city, I found that the infamous rafter had been cut by one of my friends. The day after I came back to Diitabiki, a Thursday, we put it in. The same day, I cleaned the grime out of my water tank that had sat, full of water, for a year. The next day, Heni’s kids, Sephra and Shekila helped me scrub down the interior of my house with soap and water. For three days, starting last Monday, I attacked the house with primer, white paint, and finished it off with green trim. It was a difficult battle, and my sandals, watch, and hair were casualties of war from friendly fire. On Thursday I laid a hardwood floor…well, linoleum that looks like a hardwood floor and I must say, it looked pretty fine. On Friday I packed. I enjoyed one last weekend in my home for over a year and moved on Monday. As I know everyone in Adiise Konday, and my best friends live there, I was sorry to leave that part of the village. One of my friends offered to let me stay in their house while they were gone for a couple weeks, but of course, after a couple of weeks, I would have had to move anyway.

Jungle Hall, as I call it, is a single, twelve by eighteen foot room, but with two-foot-high walls, it is essentially an A-frame with 120 square feet of living space, when you are standing up. It actually looks quite big and open, but then again I do not have many things with which to fill the space. My neighbors are surprised that I have no bed, but it would take up half the house, and a hammock suits me just as well. Untying ropes are easier than making a bed in the morning. Having lived without running water or refrigeration, and having washed my clothes in a basin for over a year, only a few living adjustments have to be made at Jungle Hall.

After moving in, I killed a few resident tarantulas and mounted my machete on the back wall, painting above it, virtus tentemente gaudet, strength rejoices in the challenge. It is unoriginal, the motto of my alma mater, but it is a good motto, and appropriate to Peace Corps service in the jungle.