Rural Bathing

Two days without bathing and I feel as if I am on the verge of launching a new kine of body odour called "You're Feisty".

Our water is pumped up to a holding tank and then distributed as and when we require it, when we have a power outage, we have no water and the odour of the past creeps back like heartburn after a dodgy pie.

I had set aside 3 wetwipes from a restaurant chain and this would been my plan of attack if the electric gods once again felt us unworthy of their gifts. It's moments like these that make living in Africa great, we have so much we take for granted and yet we have this fickle structure that is as reliable as Blackberry's future.

I awoke and water ran from the tap and I had to fight down the urge to run down the passageway singing "Rock and Roll dreams come true". It was a beautiful moment and even though the water pressure was a weak as a priests alibi on a youth camp, it was enough for me to wash all the bits that needed attending to.

So here I am at my desk, sick as a dog with flu, but not smelling like a lemon scented wetwipe and grateful for running water and electricity.

Nite All