Not in California anymore

We're about halfway through hot season right now. I've started using the thermometer from my medical kit to measure the temperature of my house because it's the right range. Right now, at 8:30 pm, it measures 97.4 degrees. I think I'm starting to get used to it--I don't feel quite as exhausted all the time anymore, and my heat rash seems to have gone away. Sleeping outside at night has probably helped.

I'm not sure if it's the heat, though, or if it's just me, but I've been losing all patience with a lot of the things that I used to tolerate. For example, when people blabber at me in Mooré knowing fully that I don't understand what they're saying, but they just keep going like I should know what they're saying anyway. (It's more annoying when they speak French but they keep going in Mooré anyway just because.) Also, the kids who still scream "nasaara!" ("white person") at me and run after my bike every time I bike past. I've been here for 8 months already--get over it. Or how they inevitably follow "nasaara" with demands for candy or money. I've never given them anything. Why do they think I'll start now? My gas tank ran out yesterday, so I had to take it over to a shop to replace it with a new one. Those things are big, and they weigh at least 50 or 60 pounds. On my way home with the new one strapped to the back of my bike, two 3-year-olds started running after me saying "nasaara! I want your gas tank!" For real?

Sometimes you have to laugh at the things people say, though. In my English club last week, we had a discussion where we practiced talking about our families. The students have a difficult time formulating questions, so we spent some time trying to ask questions about the members of each other's families. One question that was posed to the class was "how many brothers do you have?" One kid raised his hand and said "39." Apparently he is one of over 100 of his father's kids. His answer to "how many wives does your father have?" was 20. We're not in California anymore. I think his dad is a village chief, hence the excessive spousery. Still, he must be pretty busy having all those kids. Then, another kid asked what the word in English is for your father's other wives who are younger than your mother. Uhh. ?? (The title in French is "petite maman," in case you ever find a need for it.) Finally, the first kid started asking me an uncomfortable number of questions about my younger sister, until I finally said that she was 9 and that there would be no more questions about her. (she is 9, right?)

I guess the weird comments are easier to deal with when they're coming from someone who is at least making a vague attempt to understand where I'm coming from, instead of someone ramming their own ignorance in my face. Is it my own laziness and lack of patience, or is it just the heat that makes me so annoyed? They don't know any better. For now, all I can do is hide my candy and wait for rainy season to cool us off.