Nose Peanuts

Warning: no bloody, gory or otherwise crazy-nuts stories available at this time.

So I'm hauling sand what was left after construction of the wall. I decided to landscape a little around the house which is really ridiculous because now there's this one tiny patch of niceness replete with cactus, volcanic rock and a brick piece border on one corner of a tin roof house with peeling paint, cracked windows and moth eaten rafters harboring bats and rats. So anyway, the boys start gathering as they usually do anytime "Nasara" starts doing anything. Soon they have insisted on grabbing the shovels and hauling the sand in the wheel barrows as well--but you already know the story--this is really a tale about a boy--Fambe (think Thumper and Bambi crossed and you have an idea of the pronunciation). He starts dancing on the sand pile. He's only three, runs around naked most of the time and dances as if he was born to it. He's Lona's second youngest son. He loves to stare at "Nasara" with a blank look on his face. He won't smile, talk or do anything accept come up to you in church and want to sit on your lap until he rips your Arab robes. Then he'll run off to sweep up peanut shells off the floor. Occasionally, you'll be walking to work in the early morning fog and you'll see someone sitting in the dirt waving with a huge grin saying "lalé, lalé" but other than that it's all just serious, expressionless staring. I'm not sure if Fambe still likes me now after I circumcised him and he then got infected because, well he runs around naked and rolls in the dirt at every opportunity. Not to mention that he was quite proud of his new look and would show off to anyone. Oh, and there was the time I was tossing the football and accidently pegged him right on the head causing him to tumble off the porch railing he was perched on 4 feet to the ground. I got there quickly to find him screaming like a hyena with blood pouring off a tiny slit in his scalp. Lona just laughed and shook his head when I told him. As mentioned, Fambe has natural rhythm and likes to take one of my small drums, lay it between his legs as he sprawls on the ground and pound it--sometimes in rhythm with what we are playing.

Fambe's brother Henri on the other hand just stands around looking at you with the cheesiest grin all the time. I've never seen a kid so happy and with a bigger smile. Even when he was deadly sick with Malaria his smile never diminished--his eyes just looked a little droopy.

A boy with a huge Burkitt's Lymphoma on his right cheek (bigger than two huge grapefruits) who I've searched to world over to find treatment for comes into see me when I say I've found it. I first saw him walking down the street to market months ago and stopped the car to yell at him to come see me which he always has done everytime I've called for him. Now when I have the meds finally I set up an appointment to start chemo and he never shows up. I see him by the basketball court we've rigged up in a field the other day and he says he's coming tomorrow then never shows up. I don't get it--maybe he's afraid of getting his hopes up or what--I often can't figure out how people think here.

So, finally--nose peanuts. Never say never. You can teach an old dog new tricks. I never cease to be amazed. Sarah calls me to come see a baby with a peanut stuck up it's nose. I hurry over and see the baby comfortably in mom's arms. I walk down the hall to my office and gather my arsenal: Otoscope, nasal speculum, forceps, clamps, spray anesthetic. I'm armed to the teeth. I walk back balancing all my goodies in both hands. I turn the corner and see a strange man bending over the child. One of the other patients' fathers. I don't get it until I hear loud sucking noises. I'm frozen. He then lifts his lips off the baby's nostrils and there is the slimy peanut sitting right there. He nimbly picks it off and tosses it aside. I'm flabbergasted feeling a little foolish with my "modern" medecine. I tell Sarah to give them their money back and return home laughing and shaking my head. It's brilliant!

James