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Sunday
May102009
Not again.
May 10, 2009
I woke up that day and knew right away that it was pointless to get out of bed. I turned to my husband.
"I just want to die," I said.
"That's a bit of an extreme reaction, don't you think, Rae?" he said, mildly.
"No. No, I don't think."
*
When the time came, we all assembled on the rooftop/veranda, against a stunning backdrop of blue sky and green hills with one little lone wooden house tucked in an impossibly vertical location. (Every day I look at that house with awe.) There were boulders strewn over the hillside like the seeds of mountain peaks, and we were armed with a large plastic bucket, several plastic bags, (black market items here, since plastic bags are outlawed) and many towels.
Renee, who quite honestly was behaving as though this was some kind of party, told me she liked my outfit.
I frowned.
"I'm going to start wearing only black and grey," I replied. I was morose.
Becca, Renee, and Cat all smiled indulgently. My head felt like it would pop off. And good riddance if it did.
*
Chinua poured the special solution made of half vinegar and half rubbing alcohol over the hair of the first victims. He moved from a hairdresser routine for the girls to vomiting sounds for the kids. "I'm a blue whale and I just ate but.. blleheheeeheheheh," he said, pouring the solution over their hair while everyone giggled uncontrollably.
I may have cracked a smile.
*
With the plastic bags on our heads and towels and scarves draped over the bags, we had a collective style reminiscent of a headgear cult. Leafy was sporting a red checked towel, very Arab in style, Renee had the look of a woman smoking a cigarette beside her garden gnomes and baby deer on the veranda of her trailer, Cat had a glazed cult follower look, and Becca had rosy cheeks and looked beautiful. I tied Chinua's plastic bag in a Tupac style, and me?
My hair has the incredible ability to soak up a lot of fluid, which leaked slowly into my bag, creating a puddle in the bag which I hung over my shoulder. It nestled just over my collarbone. Like a small pet draped around my neck. Or a breast implant, gone horrifically awry and fleeing north. As the day went on, I began to feel protective of my lump, speaking softly to it to comfort it.
*
We huddled in my bedroom, watching shows on the computer and eating ice cream, while we waited the requisite three hours before we could wash the stuff out of our hair. It was not a bad way to pass an afternoon, all of us lined up and glazing over at a stand up comic who was quipping his way unintelligibly around the computer screen.
And then the internet guys showed up to help us connect to the new wireless signal that has been installed. A man from Israel and a Tibetan man born in India. It was interesting timing, to say the least, all of us huddled and turbaned. They needed to come into the back bedroom to work on the computer there. I tried to hide in the bathroom.
*
When I realized that hiding in the bathroom probably wouldn't work, I decided that talking about it was the next best thing.
"Lice."
We all commiserated. Little jerks, chomping on your head. The Israeli man was sitting at the computer, while the Tibetan man was sitting crosslegged on my bedroom floor, typing away at his laptop. The girls and I were still all slouched against the wall, and kids trickled in and out with their curiously large heads. I mimed the cult mother behind the man on the computer, talking to my bag of water and listening to the instructions it gave me.
The Israeli man had grown up on a kibbutz. "We used to use kerosene," he said. Our lot looked better.
Okay fine. I decided to be a good hostess.
"Chai?" I asked.
(Photos by Chinua, in case you didn't notice him in the mirror...)
"I just want to die," I said.
"That's a bit of an extreme reaction, don't you think, Rae?" he said, mildly.
"No. No, I don't think."
*
When the time came, we all assembled on the rooftop/veranda, against a stunning backdrop of blue sky and green hills with one little lone wooden house tucked in an impossibly vertical location. (Every day I look at that house with awe.) There were boulders strewn over the hillside like the seeds of mountain peaks, and we were armed with a large plastic bucket, several plastic bags, (black market items here, since plastic bags are outlawed) and many towels.
Renee, who quite honestly was behaving as though this was some kind of party, told me she liked my outfit.
I frowned.
"I'm going to start wearing only black and grey," I replied. I was morose.
Becca, Renee, and Cat all smiled indulgently. My head felt like it would pop off. And good riddance if it did.
*
Chinua poured the special solution made of half vinegar and half rubbing alcohol over the hair of the first victims. He moved from a hairdresser routine for the girls to vomiting sounds for the kids. "I'm a blue whale and I just ate but.. blleheheeeheheheh," he said, pouring the solution over their hair while everyone giggled uncontrollably.
I may have cracked a smile.
*
With the plastic bags on our heads and towels and scarves draped over the bags, we had a collective style reminiscent of a headgear cult. Leafy was sporting a red checked towel, very Arab in style, Renee had the look of a woman smoking a cigarette beside her garden gnomes and baby deer on the veranda of her trailer, Cat had a glazed cult follower look, and Becca had rosy cheeks and looked beautiful. I tied Chinua's plastic bag in a Tupac style, and me?
My hair has the incredible ability to soak up a lot of fluid, which leaked slowly into my bag, creating a puddle in the bag which I hung over my shoulder. It nestled just over my collarbone. Like a small pet draped around my neck. Or a breast implant, gone horrifically awry and fleeing north. As the day went on, I began to feel protective of my lump, speaking softly to it to comfort it.
*
We huddled in my bedroom, watching shows on the computer and eating ice cream, while we waited the requisite three hours before we could wash the stuff out of our hair. It was not a bad way to pass an afternoon, all of us lined up and glazing over at a stand up comic who was quipping his way unintelligibly around the computer screen.
And then the internet guys showed up to help us connect to the new wireless signal that has been installed. A man from Israel and a Tibetan man born in India. It was interesting timing, to say the least, all of us huddled and turbaned. They needed to come into the back bedroom to work on the computer there. I tried to hide in the bathroom.
*
When I realized that hiding in the bathroom probably wouldn't work, I decided that talking about it was the next best thing.
"Lice."
We all commiserated. Little jerks, chomping on your head. The Israeli man was sitting at the computer, while the Tibetan man was sitting crosslegged on my bedroom floor, typing away at his laptop. The girls and I were still all slouched against the wall, and kids trickled in and out with their curiously large heads. I mimed the cult mother behind the man on the computer, talking to my bag of water and listening to the instructions it gave me.
The Israeli man had grown up on a kibbutz. "We used to use kerosene," he said. Our lot looked better.
Okay fine. I decided to be a good hostess.
"Chai?" I asked.
(Photos by Chinua, in case you didn't notice him in the mirror...)
Reader Comments (23)
Well, I'm happy to hear that plastic bags have been outlawed there. Not so happy about the lice. Nasty little things.
You guys look sooo cute!! I remember having a lot of lice in my hair when I was really young. Back home in Singapore, we called them 'kutu' and I used to be very fascinated by it. My hair, a habitat...hmm
xx
happy mother's day journeymama- i am enjoying following the adventure with your beautiful family and i had no idea that vinegar and alcohol was a remedy for lice. it's good to know.
I walked in from turning the chickens out to my husband sitting at the computer laughing his head off. I glanced over his shoulder and said, "oh, it's Rae", because that explained it because you know, if he had been crying his eyes out I would have said the same thing. Your writing just has that kind of effect on people.
Ok, I just read what I wrote and it is kind of convoluted. I wish I could edit it. But you get the gist of it, right?
Oh Happy Birthday too! I just realized what day it is. It is Journey Mama's special day.
Oh and a doubly special day, because it is Mother's Day too. You must be getting breakfast in bed and bed is one of those things that people carry around with their devoted followers fanning them. Poor Chinua. LOL.
Today I thought I would ruin the idea some people might have of me being a good commenter. I will be a stalker....... who comments and comments and comments and doesn't know how to shut up. Which is much more realistic, no?
Of all the things I *think* I could deal with...the trains, the remoteness, the huge cultural differences...all the things I *might* be able to handle - LICE. I could never handle that, not there, not with those dear little ones - not so many times.
xoox
Ah Rae,...those damn pesky lice. Here we are in corn fed Indiana and lice comes and goes. We have 7 children and 3 adults living under one roof. Maybe they travel back and forth,jet-setting from exotic India to corn Indiana. Who knows?
I have actually almost made peace with them.
Of course they are traveling in India right now...
Oh, I am so sorry. Those nasty little beasts. My neighbor went through dealing with them last fall, and it was so frustrating for her. She now makes a strong mix of water and tea tree oil and sprays it on their hair daily. Apparently it repels lice. We have not had them yet, but I started using the tea tree oil mix just in case.
Wow, you all look so pretty with your head gear. Sorry to hear that you have lice again. Yuck! Glad that you made it fun.
Hope you had a good day today, on your birthday.
Lots of love,
Dear reader, please heed Rae’s advice,
For travelling sometimes comes with a price.
With a community strong
And dreadlocks quite long,
You’ll need black market plastic for lice.
P.S. And I still think TJ is an awesome commenter, no matter what she says.
Happy birthday!!!
:-)
Perhaps that limerick can be your official birthday limerick?!!
I am so sorry...we just went through lice triage last month. I was not the least little bit impressed these were ITALIAN lice. It's hard to get past the ick factor to appreciate the shared experience.
Happy birthday :)
Just wondering, do you know the trick about putting all your textiles, clothes, sheets, etc, into plastic bags for three weeks to kill any little suckers that are hiding there? Works better than washing. Can you get that many plastic bags?
A commentbox wrapped in ribbon sent from so far away,
Especially made for the sweet month of May.
Inside are some words
And the notes of songbirds,
Wishing Rae a most wonderful day.
Happy birthday Journey Mama!!
hehe. that's what i get for staying gone for so long. endless entertainment when i come back. i need more time.
:)
good luck with your new roommates rae!
Been lurking for almost a year now. I just found lice on my 6-year-old daughter on mother's day, and I wondered how your family was doing. I've got them too, but husband and 3-year-old daughter do not. No dreads, so hopefully it'll be easier to lick than your experience. . .Keeping my fingers crossed for no re-infestation. . .
Oh no!
You really had me laughing! Been following your journey for a while now and enjoying sharing it with you from a distance!
that was the best read I have had in a long time, I laughed, I cried (well, not really, but I can imagine crying if it was me and my family). Our lice days definitly were not nearly as exciting as that!
was the israeli man named mikey? he's a friend, and used to be our neighbor when we lived in mcleod ganj :)
I love that Renee liked your outfit! Ha! And I also like the part where the blue whale threw up all over the children. Thanks Rae for the peak in on your colorful bout of misery. May I commiserate and say that the backs of my thighs have been itching something fierce. I think I have a shaving allergy. And now for a clever and appropriate (slightly modified) joke found on a popsicle stick.
Q: What is the difference between a coyote and lice?
A: One howls on the prairie and the other prowls on the hairy.
Love-