Outraged

3 Nov 2013 01:11 pm
wayfaringwordhack: (critters: Maki World Domination)
Last night, J and I took Sprout to have a vaccination. In USA doctor-style, the pediatrician visit ended at almost 9 p.m. even though our appointment was for 6:45 p.m. Thankfully we had fed Sprout earlier. J and I opted to eat upon returning home, and maybe that, plus the fatigue, made me feel not-so-hot. We had to wait for change after paying, and J suggested I walk home alone since we live only about 500 meters from the clinic.  I finally caved and set off, sticking to the biggest roads as the safest option. Not because I was afraid but out of common sense.

Sadly, that was the only bit of common sense I exhibited in what follows.

About a block away from the clinic, I realized someone was following me. Stupid, stupid, but I told myself it might be J.  I *knew* it wasn't because the rhythm of the footsteps was wrong, and I couldn't hear any telltales from Sprout. I gripped my keys, ready to punch someone if need be, but rationalizing that I didn't have a purse/sack and no pockets and therefore was not a target, I kept walking. Stupid.

As I turned a corner, I could hear snuffly giggling and a shadow coming up fast behind me.  I stupidly kept walking and did not get my back up against a car. A boy, probably 12 or 13 years old, grabbed my butt--but not just one of my cheeks, right between them--and then ran off laughing with a band of about 6 other boys. I obviously couldn't chase them down under normal circumstances and it was certainly out of the question being 6 months pregnant and wearing Birkenstocks. So I just cussed and called him a bad name, which made me feel like an effectual loser and just made him laugh. Such elegant behavior. Two boys stayed near me, and I asked if they were his friends. I knew they were, but they denied it. I kept asking where he lived, while walking back towards the clinic, hoping to find J.  They kept giggling and acting stupid, but I couldn't very well hit them upon suspicion. A man came along who didn't speak English, but he kicked the boys and ran them off, leading me believe my assumptions were correct that they were insulting/mocking me in Arabic as they tailed me.

By the time I reached J, the boys were long gone, but he still tried to find them.  I doubt I would recognize them in daylight.

I'm sure that they didn't have any "ill and violent" intent; they thought they were just pulling a hilarious, daring prank--go feel up the foreign woman in front of one's friends!--but I'm so outraged that their stupidity has made me feel unsafe in my own neighborhood. I'm angry at myself for not listening to my instincts. I feel so disgusted to have been pawed like that. I hate all the violent scenarios that keep popping into my head in which I beat the crap out of a kid.

Before this happened, an acquaintance offered to pick Sprout and me up this evening and take us to a nearby club since we will be going after dark. I told her that walking in the dark didn't bother me, but now I'm sad, and yes, outraged, to admit that I can no longer say the same. It was long and late into the night before I finally convinced myself to stop mentally chanting, "I hate this country."

What I *do* hate is that this attack came at a time when I had finally made some peace with being here another three years and was making progress to stay in a positive mental space...

Yeah, color me outraged.

Breathe in, breathe out.
wayfaringwordhack: (gecko)
We received mail at our new addy, addressed to our new addy. An electricity bill. Anxious to see if the meter mess had been sorted, I opened it and...It was the final bill for our old meter! Yes, I know this is just fascinating business, isn't it? But I share all of this in order to say:

[personal profile] frigg it appears that mail is a go at the new house, so you can send my goodies whenever you are ready. Send them nownownownownow I know you have guests, so take your time and mail them NOW whenever you get a moment.

We had dinner guests last night and are having another couple over this evening. I think we've done about as much entertaining in a few weeks in this house as we did in two years in the other. That's an exaggeration, of course, but not by much. Now that we have a table and chairs (and an always-tidy house), we no longer have an excuse for not hosting the occasional supper.

Oh, and speaking of having people over. The other night, I went out on the porch to work on some research. No sooner had I settled in then I was greeted by kids on the balcony across the street. After much shouting back and forth, one of the boys told me that his sister wanted to know if she could come over. I said sure because I didn't really think she would. She's at least 14, I'd say, and super shy. Whenever she sees me, she ducks down and CRAWLS behind the balustrade...as if I can't still see her. O.O

But lo and behold, she did come over. And then another one wanted to come, and then another. By the end, we had two women, three girls, and four boys out on the balcony with us, not counting the shy one, who had scurried back home amidst all the comings and goings. At one  point, when the women were coming in, I went downstairs to get some soda for our guests. I heard whispering by the side of the house, so I poked my head over the porch railing and saw one a woman squatting down, PEEING.

Well, what to do? I laughed along with them, trying to convince myself that no, a grown woman was not urinating on my walkway. But yes, when I saw them out, there was the telltale wetness. And this is the woman who asked me if I needed a cleaning lady. o.O

I'm not in the habit of giving people job advice, but I'll stick this out there: Don't relieve yourself on a prospective employer's property, unless it is in the facilities designed for such purposes and you have  permission to be there, naturally.
wayfaringwordhack: (chameleon)

Last night, I snuggled under my sheet, glad for the cool weather. I thought I felt something crawling on my leg but decided it was a string on the sheet. A few seconds later, something stung me on the back of my shoulder. I threw off the sheet, simultaneously swiping at my arm. The sting didn't hurt bad enough to be a centipede, but I wasn't ruling it out, so I clambered to my knees and backed onto J's side of the bed. Luckily he wasn't on it, being that he had to work last night.

I looked down a saw an ant. And then another. And another. And then a vertible torrent of them. There were easily several hundred ants, two different types, trekking from the head to the foot of the bed. Too tired to mess with it, I grabbed my pillow and sheet, shook them both vigorously, and then went inside to sleep in the "real" bed.

I slept pretty well, but I didn't particularly appreciate stepping in a mound of tepid cat vomit when I woke up at 6:30. It may have been my best foot that I put forward, but that didn't ensure my day got off to a great start after such an aggravating ending. I say that because I don't think turning around in the shower to find a 3" centipede crawling around my feet to be any greater as a start than having hot cat puke squish up between my toes.

And it turned out the great Ant Trek was also caused by cat vomit that I hadn't seen the night before.

However, the day did get better from there. I took my CV to the high school; I had tea and a lovely chat with N; and N, J, and I went to have another look-see at our soon-to-be new house. I can't wait until the end of July!

wayfaringwordhack: (chameleon)
I was just lying on the floor, doing some stretches, and I saw a centipede making a beeline for me, one of the pretty ones, all green and ochre and blue. I leapt to my feet, scooped up my yoga mat, and walked away! I let it live.  And I don't feel the least bit disgusted or nervous knowing it is crawling around the house.

Oh, and I flipped over a cockroach today--one that N'djema had played with and then abandoned to die on its back, futilely kicking its legs in the air. It probably still died, but I didn't help it to its death. This is amazing to me because I suffered from a very severe trauma when I was only two years old that left me with a profound disgust of roaches, and I never thought to see the day when the sight of them didn't affect me on a gut level.

I'm getting soft. Very soft. And the old, buried scars must be fading.

And wouldn't you know...I kid you not when I say that just as I was typing that, I felt a creepy crawling skittering over my toes. Don't you know I did a serious jig then. The culprit somehow ended up on my sarong when I kicked it off my foot, and I threw off the cloth of modesty in two seconds flat. A cockroach ran out from the rumpled folds. Ugh. But no, I didn't smash it. Smashing roaches is just plain gross.

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