Tuesday, April 8, 2008

My kamer is nie jou kamer nie

My slaapkamer is nie jou slaapkamer nie

Ek het geweet dat my reis in die vreemde vir baie vreemde ervarings
sou sorg. Ek kon egter nooit dink hoe vreemd dit sou wees nie.

Een van die ervarings wat ek moes gemaak het om die mensdom in sy
veelvoud beter te verstaan, was my nag in Marsabit.

Dit was al donker toe ek daar aankom. Gedurende die dag se ry het ek
my 'n lodge in die dorpie voorgestel met groot ruim vertrekke,
grasdak, groen grasperke, rondawels. Ek was so moeg en vol krampe dat
ek besluit het dat ek eerder in die lodge gaan slaap en nie kamp nie.

Toe ek stop om 'n paar manne na die lodge te vra, sê hulle dat die
groot lodge omtrent tien kilometer terug sou wees berg-op. Ek was te
moeg om eers daaraan te dink om terug te ry. Hulle wys my toe 'n ander
oornagplek in die dorpie waar ek kon slaap. (Die dorpie was ligloos in
die strate, moddervore waar straat en sypaadjie ontmoet, en talle
modderige straatjies wat tussen bouvallige hutte en opslaangeboue deur
kronkel.)

Die verblyf was 'n reghoekige gebou met 'n binnehof. By die ingang
stop mens tussen diep modderpoele. Wanneer jy die poorte van die
oornaghemel binnestap, is die regtermuur die agterkant van 'n ry
winkeltjies wat na die systraatjie toe kyk. Links is die kamers. Daar
gaan 'n stel trappe op na meer kamers regs bo, bo die winkeltjies. Aan
die linkerkant is die eetsaal.

Dit eienaar is Moslem, dus word daar geen drank verkoop nie.

My kamertjie was een van die beteres. Dit het 'n wasbak, 'n stort en
Moslemtoilet gehad. Julle weet dat 'n Moslemtoilet slegs 'n gemesselde
gat in die grond is?

My kamer was in 'n L-vorm. As jy by die deur inkom, staan die bed
links agter in die hoek. Tussen die voetenent van die bed en die deur
was ongeveer 60 cm spasie. In die L-vorm staan die wasbak. Regs van
die voetenent van die bed is 'n skewe houtdeur. Agter die houtdeur is
die stort en toilet, ingekrimp in 'n spasie van 1.8 m x 1 m.

Ek was te moeg om my oor die kamer te bekommer. Ek het dadelik die
kamer geneem.

Heel eerste wou ek stort om die dag se sweet en stof af te was. Toe ek
die stortkraan oopdraai, het daar nie eers lug uitgekom nie. Daar was
geen water in die stort nie.

Ek het weer aangetrek en buite gaan hulp soek. "No problem!" In die
binnehof brand 'n houtvuurtjie met 'n groot drom water op die vuur.
Die stoom het uit die water getrek. Daar kon ek vir my 'n emmer water
skep en in die stort gaan was.

Dit was salige water oor 'n moeë liggaam. Ek kon die sout in die water
proe soos dit oor my kop afloop.

Die water bly dan onder op die vloer lê. Met jou voete werk jy dit
rigting toilet toe. Ek het te ywerig water geskrop en byna my enigste
seep in die toiletgat afgeskrop.

Die houtdeurtjie kon nie te goed sluit nie en die reuk van wat in die
gat af is die vorige dae en weke het bly hang.

Ook vir die toilet moes mens buite gaan water haal. Maar nie van die
houtvuur se water nie. Direk langs die houtvuur was 'n put met 'n
emmer en tou. Die emmer word laat sak, volgemaak, opgetrek en dan stap
jy toilet toe.

Ook die drinkwater kom uit die put. Hier het ek die eerste keer my
waterfilter gebruik. 'n Mens weet nooit wat alles onder in die put mag
dryf nie.

Die aandete was skitterend. Dit was 'n groot bord rys, diepbord met
boontjies en sous en een aartappel. Die rys krap mens in die
boontjiesous in en eet dan. Dit was een van die lekkerste borde kos
van my toer.

Die tee was wit en soet. Dit het my aan die advertensie "It gives you
wings" laat dink.

Die volgende oggend, om my seep van die gat te red, het ek besluit ek
gaan in die wasbak was. Ek het buite warm water gaan haal en heerlik
gesig gewas. Toe ek die prop uittrek, voel ek warm water oor my voete
stroom.

Die wasbak het nie 'n pyp gehad nie.

In my Reisfilosofie het ek geskryf ek wil dit gaan leer ken wat ander
mense hulle "huis" noem. Ek is besig om dit te leer ken. Ek besef net
meer en meer hoe ongelooflik bevoorreg ek leef in Suid-Afrika.

My slaapkamer is wel nie jou slaapkamer nie maar met die hartlikheid
en vriendelikheid waarmee ek in Marsabit ontvang is, het ek tuis
gevoel. Jou slaapkamer wat vreemd was, was myne vir die nag.

Ek begin al hoe meer die grens van "'n Mens kan nie so leef nie" oor te steek.

My room is not your room

I knew that my journey into the unknown will provide many strange experiences. But I could never have imagined just how strange it would be.

One of these experiences was the night in Marsabit when I had to try to understand the multiplicity of the human race better.

It was already dark when I arrived there. During the day’s ride I tried to imagine a lodge in the town, with spacious rooms, a thatch roof, green lawns and cottages. I was so tired and cramped that I decided to rather sleep at the lodge than to camp.

When I stopped to ask a couple men about the lodge, they said that the large lodge was about ten kilometers back and up a mountain. I was too tired to even think about turning back. They then showed me alternative overnight accommodation in town where I could sleep. (The town was lightless in the streets, muddy furrows where street and sidewalk meet, and many muddy streets winding between dilapidated huts and prefabricated buildings.)

The accommodation was a rectangular building with an inner court. At the entrance you stop between deep muddy puddles. When you enter the gateway of overnight heaven, the wall on the right hand side is the back of a series of shops that fronts to the side-street. To the left are rooms. There is a staircase that leads to more rooms to the right above the shops and to the left is a dining hall.

The owner is Muslim; therefore no alcohol is sold here.

My room was one of the improved. It had a basin, a shower and a Muslim toilet. You know that a Muslim toilet is only a build pit?

My room was L-shaped. As you enter through the door, the bed stood in the rear left corner. Between the foot end of the bed and the door is a gap of about 60cm. In the L-shape stands the basin. To the right of the foot end of the bed is a skew door. Behind the door is a shower and toilet crammed into a space of 1.8m x 1m.

I was too tired to be concerned about my room. I took the room immediately.

The first thing I wanted to do was to take a shower to wash away the day’s sweat and dust. But when I opened the shower tap, not even air came out. There was no water in the shower.

I got dressed again en went outside to seek assistance. “No problem!” A wood fire burned in the interior court with a big drum over the fire. The water was steaming. I was able to take a bucket of water to use for washing in the shower.

It was blissful water over a tired body. I could to taste the salt in the water as it ran over my head.

The water remained on the floor. With your feet you try to scrub the water towards the toilet. I tried too diligently to scrub water and almost scrubbed my only bar of soap into the toilet pit.

The wooden door couldn’t lock properly and the smell of what went down the toilet pit the previous days and weeks still lingered in the air.

Also for the toilet you also had to get water from outside. But not of the heated water on the fire. Directly next to the fire was a well with a bucket and rope. The bucket is lowered, filled, raised and then you walk to the toilet.

The drinking water also comes from the well. Here I used my water purifier for the first time. You never know what might be drifting in the water down there.

Dinner was splendid. It was a large plate of rice, a bowl of beans and sauce and one potato. The rice is scooped into the bean sauce and eaten. It was one of the most delicious plates of food of my journey.

The tea was white and sweet. It reminded me of the advert “It gives you wings”.

In order to save my soap from the pit, I decided to wash in the basin. I went to fetch warm water from outside and washed my face. When I pulled out the plug I felt water streaming over my feet.

The basin had no outlet pipe.

I have written in my Travel philosophy that I want to learn what other people call home. I am learning that now. I realize more and more how unbelievably privileged I am living in South Africa.

My bedroom isn’t your bedroom, but it is the sincerity and friendliness with which I was received in Marsabit, that made me feel at home.

Your strange bedroom was mine for the night.

No comments: