Sustainability is a much-used word around here. In the US when people talk about sustainability it usually has overtones of environmental responsibility. Here sustainability is more about survival. Yes, folks are aware of the environmental implications, but there is a very practical aspect.
Last night I stayed with the Grail Sisters as usual for Thursday nights. When I was walking toward the house, thre were two sisters outside washing bottles. I know from a previous conversation with Sister Marie that the sisters make their own wine--banana wine and, I believe, pineapple wine. They wash and sterilize the bottles and then fill them with the homemade wine. It's part of being self-sufficient.
Even more interesting, although they are in Kampala, the capitol city, they raise livestock. I've seen chickens that I'm pretty sure are theirs and I hear cattle and I've been told they have hogs. Urban agriculture is fairly common around here, so although it's impressive, it's not surprising.
What is cool is what they do with the manure--animal poop--they make methane that they use for cooking and heating water. It's not like they have a hot water heater, they heat water on a burner and use it for washing--dishes and personal. The left-over methane is piped to the neighboring canteen at the Uganda Catholic Social Training Center where it is used for cooking.
What is sustainable is also economically sound. Since utilities and both expensive and undependable around here, being "off the grid" has many advantages, both in terms of being less expensive and being more dependable.
I admire the ingenuity of people here. I'm impressed with the ways they use technology to make their lives better while protecting the environment. Way cool.
Friday, December 5, 2008
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Thank God I was a Girl Scout
This morning I had to get up extra early since I was part of a team going to Kisumi Brothers Center, one of the centers that UMU operates. We were evaluating the facilities and programming to recommend whether it can become a stand-alone university. We were leaving at 6 AM since another group we were traveling with had an earlier meeting. I was up at 5.
I don't like getting up early. I do it when necessary and only when necessary. This morning my alarm went off and I dutifully got up and went in the bathroom to start my shower. I turned on the water and--nothing came out. Joy. No water.
This doesn't happen very often, and sometimes we have some warning so I can fill a few containers. This time there was no warning and there was no water. However, I was a Girl Scout so I know how to wash up in a miner's cup if necessary. It wasn't that bad.
The water heater in our kitchen leaks. It was supposed to be replaced about a month and a half ago, but it's still the same old leaky water heater so we have a large pot under it to catch the drips. I turn it off at night so it doesn't leak, but it pretty much has to be on during the day, so it leaks into the pot. Fortunately the pot was about half full. The electric tea kettle was also a bit more than half full. I had water. I turned on the kettle and pretty soon I had hot water.
I took the pot of water and dumped it in one of the large plastic tubs we use for laundry, added the hot water and I had enough water for a bath of sorts--the kind where you stand in the bathtub and wash up with soap and enough water to get the soap off. It works.
Since I had a meeting today I didn't want to head out all funky and smelly. I got my bath. Given that my natural tendency is to take looooong showers--anyone who has lived with me can testify that I am perfectly capable of emptying the hot water heater--it's nice to know that I can also make due with what I have. Backpacking with Girl Scouts taught me how to bath with a minimum of water. Who knew that it would pay off some forty years later.
I don't like getting up early. I do it when necessary and only when necessary. This morning my alarm went off and I dutifully got up and went in the bathroom to start my shower. I turned on the water and--nothing came out. Joy. No water.
This doesn't happen very often, and sometimes we have some warning so I can fill a few containers. This time there was no warning and there was no water. However, I was a Girl Scout so I know how to wash up in a miner's cup if necessary. It wasn't that bad.
The water heater in our kitchen leaks. It was supposed to be replaced about a month and a half ago, but it's still the same old leaky water heater so we have a large pot under it to catch the drips. I turn it off at night so it doesn't leak, but it pretty much has to be on during the day, so it leaks into the pot. Fortunately the pot was about half full. The electric tea kettle was also a bit more than half full. I had water. I turned on the kettle and pretty soon I had hot water.
I took the pot of water and dumped it in one of the large plastic tubs we use for laundry, added the hot water and I had enough water for a bath of sorts--the kind where you stand in the bathtub and wash up with soap and enough water to get the soap off. It works.
Since I had a meeting today I didn't want to head out all funky and smelly. I got my bath. Given that my natural tendency is to take looooong showers--anyone who has lived with me can testify that I am perfectly capable of emptying the hot water heater--it's nice to know that I can also make due with what I have. Backpacking with Girl Scouts taught me how to bath with a minimum of water. Who knew that it would pay off some forty years later.
Friday, November 28, 2008
An Honest Man
Today I went to buy some pork from the stand where I've been buying it. The usual cost is 3,600 shillings per kilo, less than a dollar a pound.
Today I thought the guy selling it said 4,000 shillings per kilo. It looked a bit more lean than usual, so I didn't question the price. I asked for two kilos. (By the time I cut off all the fat, it's not that much.) He said 7,200 shillings. I corrected what I thought was an error and said, "Don't you mean 8,000 shillings?"
He in turn said, "Sister I wouldn't cheat you, it's 7,200 shillings."
I know this guy is poor because I've been to his house and he has a bunch of kids. He could have used the few extra shillings. Still, he's honest.
I was impressed. I'll buy from him again.
Today I thought the guy selling it said 4,000 shillings per kilo. It looked a bit more lean than usual, so I didn't question the price. I asked for two kilos. (By the time I cut off all the fat, it's not that much.) He said 7,200 shillings. I corrected what I thought was an error and said, "Don't you mean 8,000 shillings?"
He in turn said, "Sister I wouldn't cheat you, it's 7,200 shillings."
I know this guy is poor because I've been to his house and he has a bunch of kids. He could have used the few extra shillings. Still, he's honest.
I was impressed. I'll buy from him again.
Happy Thanksgiving
There was no way I was going to teach on Thanksgiving evening so I gave my students an independent assignment and accepted an invitation for dinner at the home of the Embassy Public Affairs Officer, Lisa Heilbronn.
While Thanksgiving is one of those very American holidays, Ugandans are familiar with it. Barnabas, one of the deans at UMU told me that Americans would shoot you if they couldn't celebrate Thanksgiving. I don't feel near that violent about it, but I did feel a strong need to eat turkey and stuff myself to the gills preferably in the presence of others who are doing the same.
Lisa had set up probably eight tables (I should have counted) with about six chairs per table under a large canopy. The evening was warm even if Bry'Chell did have her sweatshirt zipped up to the very top.
The food was great--turkey, dressing, sweet potatoes, white potatoes, baked apples, green beans, bread and butter and even two kinds of canned cranberry sauce. For dessert there was pumpkin pie and apple pie. The only useful thing I did all evening was to whip the whipping cream.
The other Fulbrighters were there some with spouses, some Ugandan Fulbright alumni--Ugandans who have studied in the US as Fulbright scholars--and some embassy staff--those people who make my life easier when I get confused navigating life in Uganda.
Lisa, her housekeeper, Bernie, and Bernie's niece, Judith prepared the meal. They did a fantastic job. I can't believe they came up with all the ingredients. Most things were pretty easy to find, but some, like the cranberry sauce (even if it was the canned variety) took a bit of ingenuity. As I often say, any meal I don't have to cook is a great meal. This is the case a hundred-fold on Thanksgiving.
All in all, it was a wonderful evening. Thanks, Lisa.
While Thanksgiving is one of those very American holidays, Ugandans are familiar with it. Barnabas, one of the deans at UMU told me that Americans would shoot you if they couldn't celebrate Thanksgiving. I don't feel near that violent about it, but I did feel a strong need to eat turkey and stuff myself to the gills preferably in the presence of others who are doing the same.
Lisa had set up probably eight tables (I should have counted) with about six chairs per table under a large canopy. The evening was warm even if Bry'Chell did have her sweatshirt zipped up to the very top.
The food was great--turkey, dressing, sweet potatoes, white potatoes, baked apples, green beans, bread and butter and even two kinds of canned cranberry sauce. For dessert there was pumpkin pie and apple pie. The only useful thing I did all evening was to whip the whipping cream.
The other Fulbrighters were there some with spouses, some Ugandan Fulbright alumni--Ugandans who have studied in the US as Fulbright scholars--and some embassy staff--those people who make my life easier when I get confused navigating life in Uganda.
Lisa, her housekeeper, Bernie, and Bernie's niece, Judith prepared the meal. They did a fantastic job. I can't believe they came up with all the ingredients. Most things were pretty easy to find, but some, like the cranberry sauce (even if it was the canned variety) took a bit of ingenuity. As I often say, any meal I don't have to cook is a great meal. This is the case a hundred-fold on Thanksgiving.
All in all, it was a wonderful evening. Thanks, Lisa.
Monday, November 24, 2008
Travelling on Something Besides my own Two Feet
Yesterday afternoon Bry'Chell and I put our newly purchased bicycles to use. Bry'Chell said she didn't want to go, but I told her she was going. This was followed by a discussion about helmets. The helmet discussion was entirely predictable. We have it every time she gets on her bike in Chicago. Equally predictable, she wore her helmet. I don't know why she bothers to bring it up. Helmets are non-negotiable. OK, I had to threaten to not do her hair in order to get the helmet on her head. I'm not above threats.
We rode quite a ways--I'd guess about five miles each way over hilly terrain. I've been away from California too long and Bry'Chell has never ridden hills. We both had a good workout.
The countryside was beautiful, but we pretty much had to keep our eyes on the road. Except for the main highway, all the roads are dirt. I wouldn't ride a bike on the highway. It's way, way too dangerous. Once we were off the main dirt road most of the traffic was pedestrian. There were some boda-bodas and two trucks--lorries as they're called here. Lorries are generally not big trucks, just open bed trucks a bit larger than a pickup truck.
Many of the people we saw were on their way to get water. They carried large plastic jerry cans. I would guess they hold five gallons. Getting water is mostly a job for kids and teenagers. Some had bicycles to carry their cargo, but most were carrying them. Many were coming a good distance--a kilometer or more. The pump was along the road and people streamed to it from both sides. Those cans must weigh at least 40 pounds when they're full.
The hills were fun to ride down and less fun to ride up. A couple of times we just couldn't ride all the way up the hills and ended up pushing our bicycles. I usually hung on to riding a bit longer than Bry'Chell did. I have a little more practice with using bicycle gears than she does and more experience on hills. I didn't grow up in flat Chicago. Still, I'm out of practice and Bry'Chell is pretty determined.
Bry'Chell actually admitted that she had a good time. She did run into five different classmates and was totally mortified to be seen in her helmet. I was unsympathetic, but did buy her a bottle of pop at the trading center on the way back.
Today I'm sore in all the predictable places. I don't mind.
We rode quite a ways--I'd guess about five miles each way over hilly terrain. I've been away from California too long and Bry'Chell has never ridden hills. We both had a good workout.
The countryside was beautiful, but we pretty much had to keep our eyes on the road. Except for the main highway, all the roads are dirt. I wouldn't ride a bike on the highway. It's way, way too dangerous. Once we were off the main dirt road most of the traffic was pedestrian. There were some boda-bodas and two trucks--lorries as they're called here. Lorries are generally not big trucks, just open bed trucks a bit larger than a pickup truck.
Many of the people we saw were on their way to get water. They carried large plastic jerry cans. I would guess they hold five gallons. Getting water is mostly a job for kids and teenagers. Some had bicycles to carry their cargo, but most were carrying them. Many were coming a good distance--a kilometer or more. The pump was along the road and people streamed to it from both sides. Those cans must weigh at least 40 pounds when they're full.
The hills were fun to ride down and less fun to ride up. A couple of times we just couldn't ride all the way up the hills and ended up pushing our bicycles. I usually hung on to riding a bit longer than Bry'Chell did. I have a little more practice with using bicycle gears than she does and more experience on hills. I didn't grow up in flat Chicago. Still, I'm out of practice and Bry'Chell is pretty determined.
Bry'Chell actually admitted that she had a good time. She did run into five different classmates and was totally mortified to be seen in her helmet. I was unsympathetic, but did buy her a bottle of pop at the trading center on the way back.
Today I'm sore in all the predictable places. I don't mind.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Giant Flying Cockroaches
The insect life here is interesting and varied. Many of the bugs come in a variety of sizes--ants, for example, come in small, medium and large. The small ones are everywhere, especially in the house. However, they're easy to control. One swipe of a hand wipes out the whole line making their way to the sugar bowl. The medium ones are occasionally inside and definitely outside. The large ones bite. They're not fun, but they're fairly easy to avoid.
About cockroaches--they also come in many varieties. I don't mind the ones that are like the US ones. We really don't have those, although I have seen a few. The giant ones I strongly dislike. I, who despise poison, actually put some down to get rid of them. I've never seen more than one or two, but you can hear them moving around knocking things over. At this point they're dead and I feel no compunction about their untimely deaths.
Just recently I've run into the giant flying cockroaches. They are disgusting. They're about four to five inches in length with large translucent wings that overlap on their backs when they're crawling around. The wings act like armor. They can move pretty fast, but mostly they're almost impossible to kill because the wing seem to protect them. I tried to kill one by stepping on it but was unsuccessful. Fortunately that was at the Grail, not in our own house. I found one in our house last night and used a copy of Alexis de Tocqueville's Democracy in America to smash it. (de Tocqueville's book is a sociological classic of about 800 pages.) It worked. I'll skip the gross and gory details. It won't bother us anymore. So much for the litany of Non-Violence. I figure roaches and mosquitoes are exempt.
About cockroaches--they also come in many varieties. I don't mind the ones that are like the US ones. We really don't have those, although I have seen a few. The giant ones I strongly dislike. I, who despise poison, actually put some down to get rid of them. I've never seen more than one or two, but you can hear them moving around knocking things over. At this point they're dead and I feel no compunction about their untimely deaths.
Just recently I've run into the giant flying cockroaches. They are disgusting. They're about four to five inches in length with large translucent wings that overlap on their backs when they're crawling around. The wings act like armor. They can move pretty fast, but mostly they're almost impossible to kill because the wing seem to protect them. I tried to kill one by stepping on it but was unsuccessful. Fortunately that was at the Grail, not in our own house. I found one in our house last night and used a copy of Alexis de Tocqueville's Democracy in America to smash it. (de Tocqueville's book is a sociological classic of about 800 pages.) It worked. I'll skip the gross and gory details. It won't bother us anymore. So much for the litany of Non-Violence. I figure roaches and mosquitoes are exempt.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Graduation at UMU
Yesterday's graduation, while long, was really nice. Having graduation outside reminded me of being in California. It was a beautiful day, a bit warm but considering that it could have rained, I'll take heat over rain any day. It was warm, but not nearly as bad as St. Mary-of-the-Woods (Indiana) in August.
The American Ambassador was the guest speaker. He was good. His talk was about uniting as a country and moving beyond tribalism. It can be a real issue in the country. Unfortunately, the divisions were exacerbated by the colonial rulers who played one groups off against another and played favorites.
He mentioned my name--being the first regular Fulbright lecturer to be at UMU--and he actually pronounced Birgen correctly. That's rare.
More impressive than the ambassador pronouncing my name correctly were the deans pronouncing all the graduates names correctly. There were over 1,000 and all those who received degrees had their names called.
One of my neighbors, Bill (a Peace Corps volunteer who helps at the Gardens--local eating and drinking establishment catering to students and Muzungus) has some good pictures on his blog.
The American Ambassador was the guest speaker. He was good. His talk was about uniting as a country and moving beyond tribalism. It can be a real issue in the country. Unfortunately, the divisions were exacerbated by the colonial rulers who played one groups off against another and played favorites.
He mentioned my name--being the first regular Fulbright lecturer to be at UMU--and he actually pronounced Birgen correctly. That's rare.
More impressive than the ambassador pronouncing my name correctly were the deans pronouncing all the graduates names correctly. There were over 1,000 and all those who received degrees had their names called.
One of my neighbors, Bill (a Peace Corps volunteer who helps at the Gardens--local eating and drinking establishment catering to students and Muzungus) has some good pictures on his blog.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
A Rough Day
Joseph, the purchasing officer was supposed to get my work permit taken care of and renew our visas which expire today. Neither one happened.
I filled out the paper work for the work permit the first or second week I was here. I was assured that it would be taken care of. Now, Joseph blames the folks at Immigration, but I'm not real sure when he actually filed the papers. The folks at Immigration claimed they lost the paper work, but yesterday one of the staff at Immigration suggested to Joseph that things might go smoother if I paid a little something to grease the wheels. I don't likes bribes and corruption, so I said no.
Tomorrow I call the American Embassy. I know they'll help, but I was hoping to get it taken care of without bothering them.
A much greater tragedy occurred today than my visa problems. The parents of one of our graduating students, Adong Christebella, were killed today on their way to graduation. Graduation is tomorrow and they were on their way. Both parents were killed instantly and her two younger brothers were critically injured. Please keep them in your prayers.
I filled out the paper work for the work permit the first or second week I was here. I was assured that it would be taken care of. Now, Joseph blames the folks at Immigration, but I'm not real sure when he actually filed the papers. The folks at Immigration claimed they lost the paper work, but yesterday one of the staff at Immigration suggested to Joseph that things might go smoother if I paid a little something to grease the wheels. I don't likes bribes and corruption, so I said no.
Tomorrow I call the American Embassy. I know they'll help, but I was hoping to get it taken care of without bothering them.
A much greater tragedy occurred today than my visa problems. The parents of one of our graduating students, Adong Christebella, were killed today on their way to graduation. Graduation is tomorrow and they were on their way. Both parents were killed instantly and her two younger brothers were critically injured. Please keep them in your prayers.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Buying Bicycles in Kampala
Yesterday I finally bought bicycles. We went for used mountain bikes. Fortunately, Connie, another professor-type was along. She did the negotiating. I just stood around and looked pathetic. Well, I did pick out the bikes and go for a trial ride or two on each potential bicycle.
It was pretty entertaining. I'd see a frame I liked, but it might be missing a seat and peddles. The sales guy would point to the mechanic guy who would go and scavenge peddles and a seat from a pile of parts or from another bicycle. I'd ride around the brick parking lot, come back and make my comments. The mechanic would make more adjustments and I'd go for another ride. We got it down to about four bikes and Connie started negotiating.
Since it was in Luganda, I didn't understand a word but Connie translated for me later. The sales guy started at 190,000 Ush per bike, that he said in English. Connie pulled me aside to ask what I was willing to pay. I told her I thought 120,00 would be fair. He told her that since I was a Muzungu I could afford 190,000 and that's what they were worth. Connie told him that I was her guest and that what he charged me he was really charging her, besides, I was buying two bicycles, so I should get a better price. She finally got the price to 150,000 per bike. It seemed fair. I bought two bikes for less than one new one would cost at Game and they're probably better bicycles.
It's not like at home where you find an ad on Craig's list from somebody who wants to clear a dusty bike out of their garage and get some extra cash for Christmas. This is what these guys do for a living. The bikes have to be imported, so that adds to the expense. These aren't used bikes that were used in Uganda. They're used in Japan, Korea and even the U.S. and imported to Uganda from there. Fortunately, I do know a little bit about bicycles, so I knew I wanted a Shimano derailleur, heavy duty knobby tires and a few things like that. I got what I wanted.
By getting the bikes used I actually got better bikes and paid way less than new ones would have cost. They'll serve us just fine.
My next stop was Game for helmets and locks. It's never considered safe to buy used helmets even if you can find them since you never know if they've been in an accident and therefore are useless. (End of sermon.) Bry'Chell doesn't like to wear a helmet. Too bad. She can wear one anyway. She says she doesn't want to stand out any more than she already does. Oh well, such is life.
We may not need the locks, but I think they're a good idea. I prefer to avoid leading others into temptation.
I also did my monthly shopping for the stuff I can't get in Nkozi. We're stocked up for the near future. Even better, I went to a real bookstore. Bookstores are dangerous places for me. I could easily spend way more money than I could afford. I didn't, but I did get a couple of books for Bry'Chell. Books are not easy to find in Uganda. There's not a culture of reading. American kids may not read that much, but most American kids who are good students do read. Here, even the good students don't read because they can't get books. If they can get books they often don't have electricity to read after dark which may be the only time they aren't busy with work or school.
Bry'Chell runs a mini library with the books she does have. Right now, all her books are out on loan. Some students give up because the books are too long or too difficult to read--remember these are kids who are in secondary school. Still, some enjoy the books and pester her for more. She's fairly strict in her lending practices. She checks up on her books and makes sure the borrower has not passed them on to someone else. So far, one book is missing in action, but there's a tracer out on it.
It was pretty entertaining. I'd see a frame I liked, but it might be missing a seat and peddles. The sales guy would point to the mechanic guy who would go and scavenge peddles and a seat from a pile of parts or from another bicycle. I'd ride around the brick parking lot, come back and make my comments. The mechanic would make more adjustments and I'd go for another ride. We got it down to about four bikes and Connie started negotiating.
Since it was in Luganda, I didn't understand a word but Connie translated for me later. The sales guy started at 190,000 Ush per bike, that he said in English. Connie pulled me aside to ask what I was willing to pay. I told her I thought 120,00 would be fair. He told her that since I was a Muzungu I could afford 190,000 and that's what they were worth. Connie told him that I was her guest and that what he charged me he was really charging her, besides, I was buying two bicycles, so I should get a better price. She finally got the price to 150,000 per bike. It seemed fair. I bought two bikes for less than one new one would cost at Game and they're probably better bicycles.
It's not like at home where you find an ad on Craig's list from somebody who wants to clear a dusty bike out of their garage and get some extra cash for Christmas. This is what these guys do for a living. The bikes have to be imported, so that adds to the expense. These aren't used bikes that were used in Uganda. They're used in Japan, Korea and even the U.S. and imported to Uganda from there. Fortunately, I do know a little bit about bicycles, so I knew I wanted a Shimano derailleur, heavy duty knobby tires and a few things like that. I got what I wanted.
By getting the bikes used I actually got better bikes and paid way less than new ones would have cost. They'll serve us just fine.
My next stop was Game for helmets and locks. It's never considered safe to buy used helmets even if you can find them since you never know if they've been in an accident and therefore are useless. (End of sermon.) Bry'Chell doesn't like to wear a helmet. Too bad. She can wear one anyway. She says she doesn't want to stand out any more than she already does. Oh well, such is life.
We may not need the locks, but I think they're a good idea. I prefer to avoid leading others into temptation.
I also did my monthly shopping for the stuff I can't get in Nkozi. We're stocked up for the near future. Even better, I went to a real bookstore. Bookstores are dangerous places for me. I could easily spend way more money than I could afford. I didn't, but I did get a couple of books for Bry'Chell. Books are not easy to find in Uganda. There's not a culture of reading. American kids may not read that much, but most American kids who are good students do read. Here, even the good students don't read because they can't get books. If they can get books they often don't have electricity to read after dark which may be the only time they aren't busy with work or school.
Bry'Chell runs a mini library with the books she does have. Right now, all her books are out on loan. Some students give up because the books are too long or too difficult to read--remember these are kids who are in secondary school. Still, some enjoy the books and pester her for more. She's fairly strict in her lending practices. She checks up on her books and makes sure the borrower has not passed them on to someone else. So far, one book is missing in action, but there's a tracer out on it.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Chigger, Jiggers or Whatever
Sunday night as we were finishing up supper, I realize my foot was itching like crazy. I figured it was a mosquito bite, but I was sitting at the table and couldn't be bothered to look.
After dinner we were sitting in the living room and I remembered to look. It wasn't a mosquito bite. It was a bump, sort of infected looking with puss and stuff with a little black spot in the middle.
I remembered Marie Ester and some other folks talking about "jiggers". I figured it was just a local mispronunciation of chiggers. I went on-line and found that the mispronunciation is more than just local, but being a good Girl Scout, I know the word is chigger and I had one in my foot.
After draining the gross gunk, I put a band aid on it and went to bed. The next morning I mentioned it to Sr. Cecilia after mass and she sent me to the infirmary. The nurse at the infirmary gave me a little lancett thing, a cotton ball soaked in betadine iodine and sent me home to fix my own foot.
I don't mind gouging out my own foot, but I don't like someone else cutting my foot. That nurse was smart. I dug it out, the chigger is gone and my foot has stopped itching.
After dinner we were sitting in the living room and I remembered to look. It wasn't a mosquito bite. It was a bump, sort of infected looking with puss and stuff with a little black spot in the middle.
I remembered Marie Ester and some other folks talking about "jiggers". I figured it was just a local mispronunciation of chiggers. I went on-line and found that the mispronunciation is more than just local, but being a good Girl Scout, I know the word is chigger and I had one in my foot.
After draining the gross gunk, I put a band aid on it and went to bed. The next morning I mentioned it to Sr. Cecilia after mass and she sent me to the infirmary. The nurse at the infirmary gave me a little lancett thing, a cotton ball soaked in betadine iodine and sent me home to fix my own foot.
I don't mind gouging out my own foot, but I don't like someone else cutting my foot. That nurse was smart. I dug it out, the chigger is gone and my foot has stopped itching.
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