Footcream and rubber gloves

Monday and Tuesday are public holidays so schools have been closed and I have been catching up with washing etc. We handwash everything in buckets with "Boom", (local soap-powder) and if you hang it out in the middle of the day it is dry in a couple of hours;everyone finds my yellow rubber gloves hilarious for some reason, but I am mightily glad of them as you have to do quite a bit of rubbing and scrubbing. It is something of an undertaking to stay clean as the red dust gets EVERYWHERE - partly because it is so dry at the moment, but also because so few of the roads are tarmacked. One of the most familiar sounds is the soft swish of the brush - sweeping is a non-stop activity here, partly so I am told to show up any snake tracks more easily!  It is often done by men, though today a group of women were sweeping out the deep gullies that line each side of the main road to drain water  in the rainy season, but which are full of rubbish at the moment. In the poorer districts where there is very little motor traffic, if a car drives by, it leaves you choking in a literal cloud of dust. There are other vehicles in those parts - carts pulled by as many as four donkeys, or people wheeling large two-handled market trolleys. Your feet can get torn and sore from walking in the dust in sandals if you are not careful - one of the most useful items in my wash bag has been some foot cream, which I didn't really mean to bring, but turns out to be another lifesaver. 

Yesterday we spent some informal time at the orphanage again, with books and games. More volunteers have arrived, including one guy who was an immediate hit with the boys who fought to take turns  to wear his multi-coloured sunglasses! I read a book about improving your football techniques and spent time in earnest discussion about the importance of practising with both feet; I was conscious that the pictures all showed very clean children in smart football boots, whereas these lads play barefoot, but it was fun  - all those hours watching my sons play has taught me something useful after all!

We are not allowed to photograph in the orphanage, so I've been trying to take photos of some of the market women, but they are mostly reluctant to let me apart from this one.