Faux Pas (Mistake)

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

What better time to share a little humility? As I may have mentioned, the streets of Kinshasa are all lined with sewer "holes." Although they vary in size, they are usually about one foot wide by about eight feet long, running parallel the long way with the street. They are about two or three feet deep. Occasionally they will be covered with a grate, but for the most part, the grates are stolen and used for any number of practical items: hibachi grills, undersides of cars, bed springs, etc. The above photo gives you an idea of how well a hole can be camouflaged. Especially at night in the rain.

This story took place when I was in Lubumbashi, in the begining of December. Fellow English teacher, Carole, and I had just had a great schwarma dinner at Katanga Fried Chicken (yes, it is KFC!) when I made the grave error of trying to run across a busy street back to my hotel. As I approached the opposite side of the street, my left foot went down, but kept on going and I found myself careening into the side of the cement with my right leg. I hollered at Carole, who was a few steps ahead of me. She turned around and didn't see me right away because I was no longer on street level. After realizing what happened, she wasted no time in dragging me out of the hole in case one of the many vehicles whizzing by would choose that moment to drive over me! I appreciated the intent, but I was in so much pain, that I started feeling very lightheaded. Thinking I would keel over any second, she got me to the lobby of the hotel where I lay down on the sofa. The hotel receptionists were totally aghast, primarily because I was full of sewer yuck and blood and they didn't want that over the lobby! They offered to take off my shoes and socks and wash them for me, which I let them do.

After a bit, I hobbled up to my room and assessed the damages. A badly scraped right shin, and two incredibly sore hips, especially the left. I used everything I could to clean the wound, putting antibiotic ointment on it and bandaids. For the pain I alternated ibuprofin and aleve every 4 hours, threw in a sleeping pill for good measure and held cold coke and beer cans on all sore spots at 20 minute intervals. I was actually able to sleep for a while and wonder of wonders walked out of there (albeit slowly!) on my own power the next morning. The health update, now a month later, is that my hips seem to be just fine and the shin wound, which I found out later warranted stitches, is healing nicely. It has not gotten infected, but I really babied it along by using only bottled water, kept it covered, etc.

I learned a bundle of lessons from that experience. One is that I'm paranoid about walking in the dark now, which is probably not a bad thing here. I always take a flashlight with me, just in case. I don't ever run across the street anymore, even if it's daylight. While I'm walking, I don't look up a whole lot--usually try to watch where my feet are going. And I thank God for every day He gives me without a major misshap!

A little lighter faux pas has to do with Abigail Martin. I was talking to the Rector's assistant at UPC about Abbey going home for Christmas, lamenting being "sans Abbey" during the holidays. He just looked at me strangely and then asked Abbey (in French) why I was going to be running around with no clothes on over the holidays. Evidently "sans Abbey" sounds just like "sans habille" which of course means "without clothes." Hmmm. What next?