smells

Standing outside the bread store the other evening, after jostling our way throgh the streets, the girls and I waited as Stefan and the boys bought our bread for the evening.  As we stood to the side trying to keep out of the way of the crowds making their way home for the evening, Wesley scowled and said, "Mommy, I smell something." 

In Africa there are always strong smells--I love the smell of fresh rain wetting down the dusty roads,  of frangipani and jasmine stretching over our neighbor's wall into our yard, of fresh tropical fruit sitting on my kitchen counter, or of the neighbor's maid making chicken curry for their dinner.  But just as those smells are so acute here, so also are the other smells of life--the garbage heaped up accross the street, the blood from the goat slaughtered next door,  the stench of urine on all the trees in the city.

So in the midst of all those competing smells, what did my little daughter detect that made her scrunch up her pretty little nose? Was it the freshly baked bread from the store?  The overripe bananas at the vendor's feet beside her? What do you smell sweetie?  SnifF, Sniff..."I smell...I smell...people."

Ah yes.  Indeed you do.  

That IS the smell of people.  Hundreds all around her walking home in the African heat to no showers...and no soap. Fortunately the "smell" of people is just a candid observation for a little three-year-old who will still laugh and hug and hold and never turn away in disgust.

We did get out of the crowd of the city the other day, though, and had a lovely walk in nature.

We examined leaves and  collected rocks and flowers. Chased dragonflies and shy crabs.  Walked through tall grass and accross "scary" marshy pathways. Smelled dry fish, deisel and rotting wood.   Smelled freshly cut grass, a grilling chicken and leather on a slingshot. There really is no excaping "smell" in Africa.