The Village

Anuisha, one of the WSHG training staff, and her husband sitting on their porch. One of my favorite and most frequented spots in the village. Anytime I walked by I had to stop for tea, they were insistent. Aside from her work with SCORD she sells herbal medicine and her husband does agricultural work, animal husbandry, and some veterinary work for good measure. They work very hard to provide for their two children, who share their one and a half room house and its one cot/bed. Go ahead and re-read that last line for me if you don’t mind. Thanks.

Shanti’s crew Shanti (in the orange). One of my original ‘sisters’, and one of the incredibly strong single mom’s that we spent time with. Her mother, sister, son and daughter, nephew and neighbors hosted us for lunch on the floor of the family’s living room/ dining room/ bedroom. All stood and watched, very pleased that we were enjoying.

Bed bugs are jerks

Mike and I took somewhat different approaches to the bug problem. I cried and cried and cried, then cried a little more. He slept in full space man gear. To each his own. And yes, that is my room, and yes that is how it looked for a month, and yes that is my vesti doubling as a sheet, and yes we did in fact go crazy, and yes of course I miss it already.

The Natural
All these years spent playing, watching, thinking, living sports, and it turns out I was all wrong. I was definitely born on the wrong continent. I’m a natural cricketer. Bowler and batsmen, I’m an all-rounder. Collecting wickets and picking up boundaries like their going out of style, I’m Brian Lara (a righty version) and Andrew Flintoff (without the drinking problem) all rolled into one. Match me up against 12 year olds any day of the week, I can hang. And yeah, if you got any of those references, you score major points, and have way to much time on your hands…like me.

The bus
Waiting for the bus with a few of our buddies. The orange hat is Hari, one of our favorites. Between Hari and I is the kid that single handedly nearly sent me over the edge. He was good for 4-6 visits a day to our door. He spoke basically zero English and could care less that we couldn’t communicate, he just wanted to introduce us to every child on the continent. Nice guy, made me feel terrible for my negative feelings, but seriously man, give me a little alone time once in awhile. Oh, right, alone time is a completely foreign concept in the village, everyone’s door is always open. So I’m a jerk.

I refer to it only as 'country strong'. I’ve never spent a lot (read any) time around farmers before this trip, but I've got nothing but respect for those I met. These men and women worked longer and harder, for less pay and gratification, then I could have imagined. The sheer physical strength of these guys was ridiculous. Country strong.





I was alone for the first week at SCORD, this is the condition Mike found me in when he arrived...tired, disheveled, and using a cot as a dining room table. All and all it was a pretty decent portrayal of the situation; and I loved every minute of it (in retrospect).