Laundry Pride

At home, I’m a champ at doing laundry.  I’m great at sorting lights from reds from darks.  I’m usually really good at remembering to put detergent in the washing machine.  I rarely forget to take my clothes out of the washer to put them into the dryer.  Ok, so maybe I’m not a champ, but I’m certainly not bad at it.  I mean, no one has ever corrected me on how to do laundry.  

 

There are no washing machines where we’re staying.  We do our laundry in buckets with powder detergent.  The detergent we bought is blue and it turns the water dark grey when you use it.  There is an alternative to doing your own laundry, though.  You can pay to get it done by someone else.  Getting a t-shirt washed, dried, and ironed costs 700 Ugandan shillings, about thirty cents in America.  So really, it’s not terribly expensive.   But still, I feel like I should be able to do my own laundry.  I’m a capable “adult,” after all.  

 

Laundry is typically done outside in the grass by a water spicket and  near the clothes lines.  So, after being in Lira about a week, I went outside to do my laundry.  By this point I knew a lot of the staff, and they greeted me, “Camaroon!  How ah you?”  “Fine!” I replied energetically, and then I filled up my soap and rinse bucket and began washing my clothes just as I had done in Busia the past six weeks.  As soon as I started scrubbing though, they started laughing.  Laughing!  At me!

 

I was annoyed, perturbed even, but I continued.  They asked, “Don’t you do laundry at home?“  Well… yes, kind of.  Eventually, I think it was Jackie who came over and asked if I was ok.  Again, I assured her that I was fine.  She asked if I knew how to do laundry.  I sheepishly admitted that I didn’t know how to do laundry their way, and Jackie very kindly tried to show me what I was doing wrong.  My basic explanation of what I was doing wrong is that I’m a weakling with no coordination.  However, she kept trying to get me to do it correctly, and I kept trying.  It was pretty much a failure, though.

 

So after that experience, I started doing laundry in the bathroom with the door closed where I face no scrutiny.  So far, so good.    

 

At home, I’m a champ at doing laundry.  I’m great at sorting lights from reds from darks.  I’m usually really good at remembering to put detergent in the washing machine.  I rarely forget to take my clothes out of the washer to put them into the dryer.  Ok, so maybe I’m not a champ, but I’m certainly not bad at it.  I mean, no one has ever corrected me on how to do laundry.  

 

There are no washing machines where we’re staying.  We do our laundry in buckets with powder detergent.  The detergent we bought is blue and it turns the water dark grey when you use it.  There is an alternative to doing your own laundry, though.  You can pay to get it done by someone else.  Getting a t-shirt washed, dried, and ironed costs 700 Ugandan shillings, about thirty cents in America.  So really, it’s not terribly expensive.   But still, I feel like I should be able to do my own laundry.  I’m a capable “adult,” after all.  

 

Laundry is typically done outside in the grass by a water spicket and  near the clothes lines.  So, after being in Lira about a week, I went outside to do my laundry.  By this point I knew a lot of the staff, and they greeted me, “Camaroon!  How ah you?”  “Fine!” I replied energetically, and then I filled up my soap and rinse bucket and began washing my clothes just as I had done in Busia the past six weeks.  As soon as I started scrubbing though, they started laughing.  Laughing!  At me!

 

I was annoyed, perturbed even, but I continued.  They asked, “Don’t you do laundry at home?“  Well… yes, kind of.  Eventually, I think it was Jackie who came over and asked if I was ok.  Again, I assured her that I was fine.  She asked if I knew how to do laundry.  I sheepishly admitted that I didn’t know how to do laundry their way, and Jackie very kindly tried to show me what I was doing wrong.  My basic explanation of what I was doing wrong is that I’m a weakling with no coordination.  However, she kept trying to get me to do it correctly, and I kept trying.  It was pretty much a failure, though.

 

So after that experience, I started doing laundry in the bathroom with the door closed where I face no scrutiny.  So far, so good.