If it weren't for Josephine and Pius, my parents here and the 4 kids in our house-I would surely starve, live in dirty clothes, and suffer the many illnesses I seem to contract-all alone without having a clue as to what is happening to my body. I feel so helpless most of the time and when I do try to help I seem to get in the way, I am horrible at cutting fresh vegetables and fruit in my bare hands with huge dull knives, I haven't the slightest notion of how to work our gardens or which plants could kill us if I picked them to add to our dinner, I can't pick up huge cast iron pots with my bare hands, so the food burns while the kids run around laughing-searching for a plantain leaf for me to use as a pot holder. I get sick all the time and manage to get bit by giant, flying, furry bugs that make my already "soft" (meaning weak!) hands really useless, and I slip and fall on the dirt, rocks, and mud all the time. But, like the indignant child I still am, I insist that I can pull my weight in our house. So I sit on my bamboo stool and struggle with my huge metal knife that seems as if it can't cut a banana, to cut pumpkin leaves that will soon face their fate to drown in red palm oil and accompany the infamous "foofoo"-the white heavy corn mush with no taste and the nutritional value of cardboard. And when people come to the house and see the white girl cooking and they laugh I become even more determined to pick up the pace and really show them something! Today as I am typing my hands are pulsing with a pain they have never felt before-I think I cut more of my skin than the food and I managed to get two blisters-which by the way, I have to try to hide from everyone so that don't try to ban from doing anymore. The photo is of our kitchen, with the common three stone fire and big metal pots. Josephine and I were preparing something tasty for sure. I will leave out the details for now;). So, in every way I am entirely dependent on my family here and I could not be more grateful.