My final resting place

I think it has been almost a week living in the tent city now.

These are Army tents set up on cement slabs surrounded by a bamboo fence.  

There is another perimeter fence and a large metal gate separating us from the community.  As you can see we are on the top of a hill.  Too much symbolism if you let your mind go there.  The compound was designed to separate us because we would be in contact with ebola, but since we are not, probably, going to have any contact we should probably be in the guest houses in town.  That said the tent city is comfortable and affords us some privacy in a place where the white person is constantly approached for monetary help.  On a walk a couple days ago I was surrounded by four boys about 19 yo.  They walked about a mile with me touching my arms and purring their arms around my shoulders. This is just the physicality of the people here but it was uncomfortable.  I fairly rapidly put a stop to it but their proximity was still too much.  They talked the entire way about how I should take them to America and how I should give them my phone number so we could be friends.  About a half mile from my destination I stopped and told them I wanted them to leave.  It felt uncomfortable, but it is different here.  Engaging in conversation is risky and there is no subtlety.  I felt like carion plucked by buzzards when we parted.  

Water at our abode is supplied (until the bore hole digging truck arrives) by women who carry the water from different wells around town and fill our tanks.

The system is designed to be gravity feed or pressurized.  Without the bore hole we are having to conserve water as the human chain is not enough to supply more than the very basic water usage.  With the spotty water supply the toilet function is dicey as well.  There is a problem because there is no alternative for the toilets.  I am beginning to think a bank of outhouses may not have been the worst idea.  Maybe the well truck will come soon.  Even with dicey sanitation we have it better than most people in town.

Garbage is burned here.  There is no trash pick up, no recycling, and no organic disposal.  Imagine that, Minneapolis!  The incineration is done on the ground in any handy open space.  The smoke is nasty.  One of our workers has decided we should minimize burning so he is taking the liter size water bottles into town so they can be reused and has designated an organics waste bin that he will bury.  I thank him for minimizing burn.  His name is Benedictus.

Random people pic for you.

They just stopped my and asked me to take their picture.