Microcosm of Life – as illustrated by Bamboo fiasco
(Mid Jan –End of Feb, 2006)
I threw my furniture in the ocean today.
I’ve been thinking of starting a blog and as I was watching said furniture afloat, I thought, “Yes, that would be a good first sentence.”
In December, I bought some very nice looking, though not particularly comfortable, bamboo furniture – a couch, 2 chairs, a table and a couple of things that could either be small tables or stools. I love them. They are from the district where I used to live and they are perfect ‘sitting room’ furniture. I put them in the front room and they’ve warmed up the place already. I didn’t often sit there, but I *could* and that makes me happy!
However, almost two months ago I realized that I had a bug problem. I woke up to find tiny mounds of bamboo sawdust – on the chairs, under the chairs, around the chairs… I ignored it a couple of times – they only like bamboo, no chance of migration – and then started paying attention. I also realized that it had probably been happening for some time but that my cleaning lady was doing a great job of tidying up each day so I never really noticed. The reason I realized it had been going on for some time is that, upon closer inspection, I saw the countless tiny holes that blanketed the arms…and legs, seat, back, etc. I’ve seen this before and it isn’t good.
So I called Nina, my very kind, yet generally too-busy-in-life to take care of my house, landlady. Very sweet and well-intended, with very little follow through. In no way is my bamboo furniture actually her responsibility but I figured she’d know what I should do.
Next day I was informed her husband would treat it with gasoline and varnish. Then he’d put the furniture out in the sunlight to dry (and fry the bugs!) and Voila! – bug free furniture that can be returned to the sitting room. I should have known better. Voila! is generally a mirage in this country.
I was here for two years before and have been back long enough to know that, regardless how confident people are; they are often not quite as accurate.
About a week later, I popped my head into Nina and Paulo’s place (they live out back) and saw my furniture. Paulo also showed me the 3 inch syringe he was using to inject the gasoline into all the tiny holes. He picked it up and then tossed it back onto some low lying surface as if he were tossing a pen. I shuddered. I’m sure I stared. I got a nasty sick pain in my stomach.
There are three small children – 2, 7 and 8 – that live in this house. Alas, I let my local sensibility take over and told myself that children are raised differently here, this is the way things are done here. The children probably won’t touch it and they’ll be fine.
Digression: A few years ago, I was at the house of some friends – friends who I generally would think to be responsible, good parents. Their 3 year old was playing with a rusty nail. I gently took it from him and handed it to my friend Jose, directing my eyes to a high shelf. Jose placed the nail on the shelf out of respect for me, while giving me that ‘silly malae, the kid will be fine’ smile. (malae is the local word for foreigner) Since then, I realized that I there is a fine line between bringing people information and telling them what to do.
It’s hard to swallow that this is a cultural sensitivity issue, but it is. I wouldn’t likely walk into my neighbor’s house in my country and tell her to pick up the pruning shears off her lawn because she has a two year old. There is a fine line of helping and imposing. Plus, it doesn’t really matter if I say anything about the syringe this one time. Today it’s a syringe, tomorrow a rusty nail, next day something equally appalling given my upbringing and education.
Three years ago 3-yr old Lorenzo didn’t hurt himself with the rusty nail and – as a few weeks have gone by – Paulo’s three little ones clearly didn’t puncture and kill themselves with the syringe. I’m gonna stick with my proselytizing about mosquito nets in my work though!
…Back to the furniture, cause this is far from over! So, Paulo’s injected the gasoline, followed by a coat of varnish. Then came the rains, so we didn’t actually have a sunny day for about 2 weeks. The sun isn’t only for drying the varnish but also to heat up the bugs and ‘smoke’ em out. So, the varnish dried and sure enough the bugs continued to chomp away.
After about 3 weeks of a whole lot of nothing going on, Cersio – on my guards (I assure you there is nothing intimidating about Cersio…he’s just there to be sure there are a pair of eyes on my house) told me that we need to bring the furniture to the sea and soak it.
Okay, sure, why not. Makes sense. So, the next Saturday, we did just that. Loaded up the bamboo furniture in my pick up truck and headed down the street to the sea. Cersio and his friend Simi had a little swim and soaked the furniture for about 20 minutes.
I sat on the sea wall lining the beach and watched like a silly foreigner who has everything done for her. I saw the drinks vendor by the side of the road and figured the least I could do is buy them a cold drink. So, I meekly offered up a Coke to each of them as thanks for throwing my furniture in the ocean and making sure it didn’t float away.
We (well, I drove didn’t I?) brought it back and dried it in the sun – the cyclone that had hovered for a few weeks finally passed and the sun shone relentlessly again.
Next day – tiny, telltale mounds of sawdust. Cersio informed me we need to go back for about an hour. So the next week Cersio and his friends loaded up the furniture and threw it back in the ocean. They told me to come back in three hours. I’m not sure what happened to the one hour plan, and I felt quite guilty about asking these three guys to spend 3 hours in the baking heat of the midday sun, but, um, ok. So, I went off to brunch.
Once again, we dried it out and sure enough the mounds of sawdust shortly followed. Are you getting tired of this saga? Me too! I just want my lovely sitting room back dammit!!!
Cersio then informed me Baygone (pesticide of choice here) was necessary. It is precisely at this point when I realized that I am completely useless.
It was as if someone had proposed the theory of the evolution to me for the first time. Why of course, that makes sense – though I never would have come up with it on my own! This is what happens when you are in a society that requires a village to raise a solution.
Things are so difficult and time consuming here that you need a whole family to look after a household. As a single foreigner, this means I pay people to wash my clothes (by hand), clean my house (must be done daily to keep ontop of the dust and bugs) and guard my house (including watering of the plants!). Hence, you become reliant on people to do things that are normally well within your capacity. Like deal with a pest problem.
This is not to say that pesticide is my first choice, but at this point the options are Baygone or furniture-be-gone (into an amalgamated LARGE heap of sawdust!).
Oh yes, I almost forgot. After the bamboo had dried from its second ‘dipping’ – presuming that it was going to work, we decided Cersio would revarnish the bamboo before it went back inside.
I came home last week and found my lovely creamish-yellow bamboo furniture had a new putrid orange tint to it. I’m still not sure if Cersio doesn’t really notice the ‘nuance’ of varnish shades or if he decided that orange varnish was a good choice. Through my disappointment, I tried to “politely” comment on the change in shade. “Um, its orange. Is that going to change when it dries?”
Alas, the Baygone was applied three times to the orange furniture. It has been sitting outside for about a week. The choking smell is dissipating and I haven’t particularly noted tiny sawdust heaps. I may actually manage to move the furniture back inside this weekend. Or at least I’ll find someone to do it for me…
As with everything here: In the end, you usually find success, though not quite in the way you expected.
I threw my furniture in the ocean today.
I’ve been thinking of starting a blog and as I was watching said furniture afloat, I thought, “Yes, that would be a good first sentence.”
In December, I bought some very nice looking, though not particularly comfortable, bamboo furniture – a couch, 2 chairs, a table and a couple of things that could either be small tables or stools. I love them. They are from the district where I used to live and they are perfect ‘sitting room’ furniture. I put them in the front room and they’ve warmed up the place already. I didn’t often sit there, but I *could* and that makes me happy!
However, almost two months ago I realized that I had a bug problem. I woke up to find tiny mounds of bamboo sawdust – on the chairs, under the chairs, around the chairs… I ignored it a couple of times – they only like bamboo, no chance of migration – and then started paying attention. I also realized that it had probably been happening for some time but that my cleaning lady was doing a great job of tidying up each day so I never really noticed. The reason I realized it had been going on for some time is that, upon closer inspection, I saw the countless tiny holes that blanketed the arms…and legs, seat, back, etc. I’ve seen this before and it isn’t good.
So I called Nina, my very kind, yet generally too-busy-in-life to take care of my house, landlady. Very sweet and well-intended, with very little follow through. In no way is my bamboo furniture actually her responsibility but I figured she’d know what I should do.
Next day I was informed her husband would treat it with gasoline and varnish. Then he’d put the furniture out in the sunlight to dry (and fry the bugs!) and Voila! – bug free furniture that can be returned to the sitting room. I should have known better. Voila! is generally a mirage in this country.
I was here for two years before and have been back long enough to know that, regardless how confident people are; they are often not quite as accurate.
About a week later, I popped my head into Nina and Paulo’s place (they live out back) and saw my furniture. Paulo also showed me the 3 inch syringe he was using to inject the gasoline into all the tiny holes. He picked it up and then tossed it back onto some low lying surface as if he were tossing a pen. I shuddered. I’m sure I stared. I got a nasty sick pain in my stomach.
There are three small children – 2, 7 and 8 – that live in this house. Alas, I let my local sensibility take over and told myself that children are raised differently here, this is the way things are done here. The children probably won’t touch it and they’ll be fine.
Digression: A few years ago, I was at the house of some friends – friends who I generally would think to be responsible, good parents. Their 3 year old was playing with a rusty nail. I gently took it from him and handed it to my friend Jose, directing my eyes to a high shelf. Jose placed the nail on the shelf out of respect for me, while giving me that ‘silly malae, the kid will be fine’ smile. (malae is the local word for foreigner) Since then, I realized that I there is a fine line between bringing people information and telling them what to do.
It’s hard to swallow that this is a cultural sensitivity issue, but it is. I wouldn’t likely walk into my neighbor’s house in my country and tell her to pick up the pruning shears off her lawn because she has a two year old. There is a fine line of helping and imposing. Plus, it doesn’t really matter if I say anything about the syringe this one time. Today it’s a syringe, tomorrow a rusty nail, next day something equally appalling given my upbringing and education.
Three years ago 3-yr old Lorenzo didn’t hurt himself with the rusty nail and – as a few weeks have gone by – Paulo’s three little ones clearly didn’t puncture and kill themselves with the syringe. I’m gonna stick with my proselytizing about mosquito nets in my work though!
…Back to the furniture, cause this is far from over! So, Paulo’s injected the gasoline, followed by a coat of varnish. Then came the rains, so we didn’t actually have a sunny day for about 2 weeks. The sun isn’t only for drying the varnish but also to heat up the bugs and ‘smoke’ em out. So, the varnish dried and sure enough the bugs continued to chomp away.
After about 3 weeks of a whole lot of nothing going on, Cersio – on my guards (I assure you there is nothing intimidating about Cersio…he’s just there to be sure there are a pair of eyes on my house) told me that we need to bring the furniture to the sea and soak it.
Okay, sure, why not. Makes sense. So, the next Saturday, we did just that. Loaded up the bamboo furniture in my pick up truck and headed down the street to the sea. Cersio and his friend Simi had a little swim and soaked the furniture for about 20 minutes.
I sat on the sea wall lining the beach and watched like a silly foreigner who has everything done for her. I saw the drinks vendor by the side of the road and figured the least I could do is buy them a cold drink. So, I meekly offered up a Coke to each of them as thanks for throwing my furniture in the ocean and making sure it didn’t float away.
We (well, I drove didn’t I?) brought it back and dried it in the sun – the cyclone that had hovered for a few weeks finally passed and the sun shone relentlessly again.
Next day – tiny, telltale mounds of sawdust. Cersio informed me we need to go back for about an hour. So the next week Cersio and his friends loaded up the furniture and threw it back in the ocean. They told me to come back in three hours. I’m not sure what happened to the one hour plan, and I felt quite guilty about asking these three guys to spend 3 hours in the baking heat of the midday sun, but, um, ok. So, I went off to brunch.
Once again, we dried it out and sure enough the mounds of sawdust shortly followed. Are you getting tired of this saga? Me too! I just want my lovely sitting room back dammit!!!
Cersio then informed me Baygone (pesticide of choice here) was necessary. It is precisely at this point when I realized that I am completely useless.
It was as if someone had proposed the theory of the evolution to me for the first time. Why of course, that makes sense – though I never would have come up with it on my own! This is what happens when you are in a society that requires a village to raise a solution.
Things are so difficult and time consuming here that you need a whole family to look after a household. As a single foreigner, this means I pay people to wash my clothes (by hand), clean my house (must be done daily to keep ontop of the dust and bugs) and guard my house (including watering of the plants!). Hence, you become reliant on people to do things that are normally well within your capacity. Like deal with a pest problem.
This is not to say that pesticide is my first choice, but at this point the options are Baygone or furniture-be-gone (into an amalgamated LARGE heap of sawdust!).
Oh yes, I almost forgot. After the bamboo had dried from its second ‘dipping’ – presuming that it was going to work, we decided Cersio would revarnish the bamboo before it went back inside.
I came home last week and found my lovely creamish-yellow bamboo furniture had a new putrid orange tint to it. I’m still not sure if Cersio doesn’t really notice the ‘nuance’ of varnish shades or if he decided that orange varnish was a good choice. Through my disappointment, I tried to “politely” comment on the change in shade. “Um, its orange. Is that going to change when it dries?”
Alas, the Baygone was applied three times to the orange furniture. It has been sitting outside for about a week. The choking smell is dissipating and I haven’t particularly noted tiny sawdust heaps. I may actually manage to move the furniture back inside this weekend. Or at least I’ll find someone to do it for me…
As with everything here: In the end, you usually find success, though not quite in the way you expected.
posted by sue at 10:40 AM
1 Comments:
that is a rockin' first sentence...
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