Conflicting

Oh yeah that's a chicken foot. A "walkie".
Flashback: A little over a year ago Tanya and I went to town to celebrate getting paid and buy some groceries (I'm pretty sure there was a trip to the Woolworth's coffee shop, too). In the taxi heading home we sat in the front two seats by the driver, me in the middle and Tanya by the window. After our taxi filled and was on its way out of town we made a detour to the petrol station to fill up for the ride. The driver had gotten enough cash from all our fares. We were sitting at the pump, talking about what a nice morning it was, when all the sudden we made eye contact with a woman running out of the station's office. A white woman running out of the office. At first I wasn't sure where she was headed, but as she got closer it was pretty clear she was coming to talk to us. The conversation went something along the lines of.....
Woman: Oh, hello! I wasn't sure if I could believe my eyes when your taxi pulled up. I saw you two in the front, but that doesn't happen very often, you know people like you sitting in the front of a taxi. Where are you from?
Us: We're from town right now, heading back to where we're staying.
Woman: Are you traveling?
Us: No we live here. Heading home now.
Woman: Well, just so you know, you're safe. They won't hurt you. They are gentle people. They will help you get where you need to go. Do you feel safe? Do you feel okay? There's nothing to worry about, they really are gentle people.
Us: We're fine. This is how we travel. We've done this before. Thanks for your concern.
Woman: Well, of course! You really should stop by for coffee some time. Please come back soon.
And then she walked away....and Tanya and I sat there stunned. How could we recover? We were certain that most people in the taxi could understand all that was being said. And REALLY?! I've never seen that woman again.
The longer I'm here the more strange things don't stick out much anymore. Funny, huh? Now I shrug more and move on with my day... I'm moved or a little disturbed, but I have to keep going, gotta keep truckin'. If something comes up that seems to be conflicting in some way, I have the choice to go ahead and address it, feel confident in addressing it, or just walk away. At one point I was afraid I was becoming desensitized to pretty disturbing things, but now I'm going with the idea that it's my coping mechanisms kicking in. When I'm faced with some chaos, some racism, a wounded country, stressful situations, poverty, death, loss, frustrations and challenges, loneliness...I tend to just focus on what's in front of me... sometimes that's just making it to the next activity, the next hour.
A couple of days ago when MmaDiapo was putting the sheep back in their pen the rope that ties them up outside wrapped around her leg and stripped it of a good chunk of flesh. I saw it pretty soon after it happened and it looked pretty raw, red, but like it could heal nicely. This afternoon she spent hours sleeping and when she woke up her face clearly showed pain. When I asked how she was doing, she limped down the steps and said her foot was bothering her, her leg was swelling. I looked at it and noticed the wounded area was black. I asked what she had been using to help it heal and she replied with "brake fluid". Um. I told her to be careful... that sometimes cuts can get infected and that if hers does it could affect more than just her foot and that area of her leg... it could affect her whole leg, her body. I didn't tell her that I think what she's doing might not be the best thing for her, I didn't tell her that I disagreed... I just wanted to help her with other options.... and asked her if she was interested in going to the clinic. She said she was going to wash it and then rest for the night. I told her to call me if she needed anything, if she started to feel worse.
2 big points to make.... 1: Brake fluid isn't exactly good for an open wound is it? I mean if you can't drink the stuff and your body looks at it as poison, putting it on an open area of your body might not be the best thing, right?
2: Situations like this always make me think. As a PCV I'm always walking a line, I have a unique place in South Africa. I'm American, I'm able to mix and mingle with people of all colors and backgrounds, I have enough money to travel, to go to town, to get a break from the village, to make a choice about where I live and what I do, I have medical care, I have access to resources, I have a freakin' blog... the list goes on. I stand true to my belief that I want to work to help people live the lives they want to lead... so the modern beliefs running parallel to the traditional, the white middle class American female in her 30's who would buy some sort of antibacterial cream for a cut being a daughter to a Black South African retired teacher in her 50's who uses brake fluid on a cut and has little access to antibacterial cream is yet another thing I have to handle with care, another thing I have to sort out.