Just call me Whirlpool

GE, Hoover and Swiffer have nothing on me these days. I have become a cleaning machine. Honestly, there is not another option here. The expectation in St. Vincent is that a person takes care of their things. "Taking care" doesn't just imply putting away your shoes; taking care is washing your broom after you use it and mopping your front porch. In all fairness, cleaning is really not within the job description of a Peace Corps volunteer but integration is. For me, part of integration has been keeping up with all of the housework. All around me, my neighbors are tidying up. I can hear Elvia, who lives a few doors down, scrubbing her "yard" with bleach and a scrub brush at 5am. Fitzroy, the 20 year old who lives behind me, cleans up after his dogs and sweeps his porch before I have time to ingest breakfast.

As my forearms burned this morning from the 6am laundry, I realized that I love to be my own wash, rinse and spin cycle. There is something so rewarding in seeing a full line of clothes, blowing in the breeze, and knowing that it is your own elbow grease that put them there. "I have to do my laundry" has a whole new meaning and unfortunately it does not include catching up on "The Mentalist" while I patiently wait for the washing machine to finish its work. I was called "Vincy" recently when I decided that the moss growing in my water run off path had to go. Recently, I've come close to slipping to my death as I try to make my way around the house in the dark. The water flows out of the house via an open drainage system and it is a breeding ground for slick moss. This is not my new favorite chore-- it is gross! Best yet, I found a pair of underwear that must have slipped down the pipe when I did laundry last week. I am sure my neighbors don't lose their knickers but what can I say, I am new to all this!

For me, there are simple moments when I realize how different my life has become. I am sure that when tourist drive through the town of Layou, they see the clapboard houses, mis-matched paint and the grime that seems to cover everything. I used to see it too. These days, as I walk to school, I see the lines of laundry that took hours to clean. I see Elvia scrubbing a pair of 2 year old rubber flip flops until they shine. Porches are scrubbed, clothing ironed and floors swept. All serving as a reminder that we must be grateful for the things we have whether it is a vacuum or our bare hands.