washing of the rugs.

it was time. after a long winter of hauling wood in from the outside, fanning black smoke from fires gone awry, fumigating my apartment in peace corps issued chemicals to fight the flea epidemic, and the owning of a long-haired cat during spring, it was time to clean my rugs. not knowing how to go about this i asked two of my seventh graders, asie and fatme, for help.

one hot june afternoon we crawled under the jagged fence of the kindergarden near my house, threw down a rug, pulled a hose from the neighbors garden and got to work. the first rug did not get so clean consdidering we were washing it on top of a layer of dust and dirt, now mud after pouring water on it. so i gave azim, another seventh grader, two leva to buy some tarp from a shop in the center of the village. he disappeared on his bike and returned five mintues later wrapped in tarp, only bicycle wheels visible to bystanders. we laid the tarp down and got back to work. brushing, brushing, brushing, bucket rinsing. brushing, brushing, bucket rinsing. repeat. the bypassing villagers were entertained to see me enagaging in typical village work. when all the hard brushing and rinsing of soap was done we hung the heavy rugs on the damaged metal fence and let the sun dry them.

several hours later i was startled by pounding on my door. when i opened it i was greeted by a group of distraught six grade boys whose concern over the prospect of rain was convincing. together we hauled three big rugs off the sharp fence and into my apartment. as we were bringing in the third one raindrops started to fall. once again i was in awe of the villagers foreboding knowledge of weather and how to clean a rug that was in need.