A Childhood Memory

April 27th, 2006

Her Biblical name was Lydia, a Baouli woman from Cote d”Ivoire; she was my ‘big buddy’. Lydia taught me how to wash clothes African style. Even when I was a small child of only 3 years, Lydia let me help her lather the dirty clothes with soap and pound them clean with my fists. Then she would help me draw water from the well in my little bucket, so I could rinse out all the suds. After that Lydia and I would tightly twist each garment, pulling together, until it sputtered out all its moisture. Then we draped our limp lifeless clothes over the bushes to dry.

“Lydia,” I said one day, “I want to live with you!” Against Lydia’s protests, my mother let me go, knowing I would soon return. Excitedly I packed my necessities in a kerchief: an extra wrap-around and some beads. Blissfully barefoot I happily skipped along the dirt road, following Lydia to her village. But soon I was thirsty from the blazing tropical sun, my feet burned from the steaming pebbles. I was ready to go home!