Shocked!

I take many things for granted about living in the United States.  Surely, only a small percentage of these subtle perks actually surfaced during this trip, but they opened my eyes to what a privileged life I live nonetheless.  For example, I never really appreciated building regulations and codes until my body became a full-fledged conductor of electricity…on numerous occasions!  Here are just a handful of times from Project Equator in which I found myself seriously shocked.

Arusha, Tanzania.  I never knew when these shocking moments would hit. At around ten that morning, I groggily stumbled out of bed and into the bathroom: a crucial part of my daily routine. The shower always represented a place to unwind, relax, and mentally prepare myself for the upcoming day, and in Arusha, Tanzania specifically, the nozzle represented no danger what so ever, however today I was in for a rude awakening. I falsely felt a sense of safety as I took a luxuriously hot shower.  As I thoroughly rinsed the remainder of shampoo from my hair and finished up, I reached down for the metallic lever to switch the shower off.  As soon as my hands made contact:  ZAP!  Volts of galvanizing electricity violently made their way through every fiber of my body.  As you probably know: wet person plus electricity equals not good. I shook up and down with my hair standing on end like a cartoon character.  In the midst of this involuntary spasm, my hand bumped against the lever once again and doubled the pain, and doubled my distrust in showers from now on. Ever since that experience, I now do a little poke test on metallic levers with the tip of my index finger prior to dampening myself. I stepped into that bathroom a tired, naive, and unprepared zombie, but left a shocked piece of toast who couldn’t feel more awake.

Yangshuo, China.  We entered the substantially sized grocery store with an equally big grocery list: eggs, fruit, vegetables, milk, and the other usual items needed to accommodate the maximum impact family.  My mom and I looked around puzzled.  Neither of us could read Chinese, but by first glance everything appeared wrapped in shiny, vivaciously colored, plastic wrappers.  We circled the store while scrutinizing the merchandize; the entire “supermarket” contained nothing more than various packages of gummies, candy bars, and other highly processed goods.  Just to be clear: this isn’t some random candy store, our house manager specifically told us that this is the supermarket.  We walked in to that store expecting to leave with food, but left with a full grocery list and a greater gratefulness for the supermarket a short walk from our house back home that carries dairy, meat, fruit, vegetables, and everything else.

Ubud, Bali. The inconsistency of plugs frustrated me from day one.  Why does everybody insist on using different shapes?  We carry a bag of adaptors with us at all times because you never know if the plugs in the next country will be shaped like a guy with a surprised face (the US plug), a sad face (Australia), a mad face (Tanzania), or any other expression you can think of.  In Bali, the outlets only accept double pronged, cylindrical plugs.  As I fiddled with various adaptors seeing which one would fit into the holes like solving some jigsaw puzzle, my hands frequently made contact with the metal prongs. Sure enough:  ZAP!  I successfully tapped into the electricity, inaccessible with United States plugs, with my hand. Albeit, the shock did not hurt as much as the shower escapade in Arusha, but that is not saying much.  I plugged in with a mild perturbation of using adaptors to charge my iPad, but unplugged my body with a mild fear of using adaptors to charge my iPad.

Bagamoyo, Tanzania. I anxiously awaited with my hand under the shower nozzle for the water to turn from freezing cold to an amiable temperature. Thirty seconds went by, then a minute, then three: the water pressure began to dwindle and the temperature stayed at a constant fifty degrees (Fahrenheit). I finally just stepped in and took the excruciatingly cold water like a man, but only for another minute or so, because after that, the water went from a drizzle to a drip-drip-nothing. That was the second worst shower of my entire life. I turned the shower on expecting hot water and the pressure of at least a squirt gun, but the cold stream shortly died out along with my misconception that showers are only warm and soothing.

Koh Tao, Thailand. Fizz stood a favorite restaurant of mine in Koh Tao, Thailand until the third visit. We all fell in love with the cafe ever since the first night: eating healthy, delicious, pomegranate salad and watching the exotic sunset with the tropical Thai beach in the foreground. The second time at Fizz, we lounged in beanbags on the soft sand, sipped on extravagant cocktails (virgin of course), and listened to their DJ lay down some original drumbeats. The third visit to Fizz, I planned on sitting in the corner, eating some fresh lunch, and working on Biology while my family walked around the island… but not everything goes according to plan. I unpacked my bag at the table and plugged in my rubber, white power cord into the outlet nearby  (a US plug, I couldn’t believe it.)  I nonchalantly picked up the end of the charger to begin charging my device and ZAP!  The doohicky that magnetizes itself inside the computer sent a volatile shock throughout my whole body. I somehow plugged the possessed cord in, but my whole body shuttered and a tingle went up and down my spine. I stared at my dad and started stammering, “Dad, DuDad, Dad!”

He stopped walking away, “What’s the matter?”

“The stupid cord shocked me when I picked it up!”

He responded with, “Did you touch the end of it?”

“Yes,” I tentatively replied.

“That happens to me all of the time, it’s fine.” He seemed unconcerned.

I touched my index finger to the smooth, metallic trackpad and ZAP!  Again.  Now, I not only felt scared and shocked, but angry at Dad who convinced me to shock myself again.  I frantically looked up at him and blurted out, “It shocked me again! It really hurt.”  He walked over (at a pretty slow pace I might add) and touched the computer: ZAP!  Sweet revenge. “Let’s find a different cafe,” he suggested with an anxious look in his eye. I walked into Fizz expecting to get a tranquil view, a healthy plate of salad, and a good amount of work done, but left with the bottle of water I ordered and a newfangled cautiousness when handling my power cord.

Zanzibar, Tanzania. Zanzibar opened my eyes in many ways, but perhaps the most significant shocker occurred when my grandfather, dad, brother, and I visited Kingey’s home… our driver from Crazy Mzungos.  We made our way out of a small street market and turned onto a bumpy, dirt road.  Houses, comprised of scrap metal, cardboard, and cement surrounded us, along with a herd of stray cows, palm trees, and a group of local kids playing soccer with a scrappy ball of trash.  Everything looked dirty and exasperated by the oppressive heat.  We parked the car outside of a tiny cement compound with no windows, and walked in through the door frame (there was no door.)  Inside sat three women, one elderly and two middle aged, as well as two small kids who looked three or four years old. They greeted us with big smiles and said hello in Swahilli, “Jambo.”  I scanned the room: no lights, no furniture (besides two plastic stools and palm leaf mats) and nothing to entertain themselves but each other. They had so little, but still seemed so joyous. I walked into Kingey’s home hot, tired, and longing for a cool pool, but I left shocked and grateful for what I already had.