My Guest Today: Shanna Hatfield

the-christmas-cowboy-cover

My blog guest today is USA Today bestselling author, Shanna Hatfield. Let’s start our celebration with a book review of her novel The Christmas Cowboy.

When Kenzie Becket meets a fellow traveler at the airport, she’s naturally attracted to him. Who wouldn’t be? Tate Morgan is the epitome of a cowboy—attractive, impeccable manners, and a champion rodeo saddle bronc rider to boot. But she knows better than to do anything but admire him from a distance. She been burned from this type before, and she will never let it happen again.

Tate Morgan recognizes a class act when he sees one, looking so attractive, yet professional in her business suit. Tate learns Kenzie Becket is a corporate trainer for one of the most successful direct sales companies in the country. But she resists every attempt he makes to become friends.

Both coming from the Tri-City area in eastern Washington, they happen to meet several times in their various travels, he to rodeo events, she to meetings and workshops. Their attraction grows, and slowly Kenzie’s reluctance begins to melt. She finds herself looking forward to running into Tate and disappointed when it doesn’t happen.

But when she sees Tate in another woman’s arms, she rebukes herself for thinking anything could come of a relationship with a cowboy. No matter what her friends say, no matter Tate’s attempts at explanation, she’s done. She should have known better in the first place.

Tate’s hurt and confused with Kenzie’s hostile attitude toward him. When an incident occurs that sends their lives spinning like a lariat, their world changes.

The Christmas Cowboy by Shanna Hatfield is a fun, lively way to kick off the Christmas season. The author writes with authority about rodeos, the corporate scene, and especially matters of the heart. The Christmas Cowboy is the first of Hatfield’s Rodeo Romance series, followed by Wrestlin’ Christmas, Capturing Christmas, and The Christmas Vow.

In the back of The Christmas Cowboy is information about one of the author’s charitable interests: Justin Cowboy Crisis Fund (JCCF), an organization that provides need-based financial assistance to athletes injured through their participation in professional rodeo.

The following is from my blog guest, Shanna Hatfield, who will explain JCCF in greater detail.

Ring in the Holidays with a Helping Hand

Shanna JCCF logo

The idea for my sweet Rodeo Romance series started with The Christmas Cowboy, a story that invaded my thoughts while CC and I sat in the Las Vegas airport after the Wrangler National Finals Rodeo, waiting for our flight home.

Once I started writing the story, I did some research about what would happen if a cowboy sustained a serious injury at a rodeo. My research led me to the Justin Sportsmedicine Team® where one of the team members kindly answered my many questions. The team provides medical support services to professional rodeo athletes at rodeos across the country.

Beyond treatment at the arena, professional rodeo athletes can find help from the financial hardships that arise when they’re unable to compete due to serious injuries. Many don’t have a guaranteed salary or provisions for income upon injury. While injuries are part of the business of rodeo, financial worries don’t necessarily have to be par for the course.

The Justin Boot Company formed a partnership with the Professional Rodeo Cowboys Association (PRCA) and the Women’s Professional Rodeo Association (WPRA) in 1989 to establish the Justin Cowboy Crisis Fund (JCCF). The idea behind the JCCF is to assist professional rodeo athletes and their families in the event of catastrophic injuries resulting from professional rodeo activities.

Since my first encounter with the folks at JCCF, I’ve been impressed by all they do and how much they care about others, and decided to give something back to them.

November 1 through December 24, ten percent of the net proceeds from all my book sales will be donated to the Justin Cowboy Crisis Fund. Every book purchased during this promotional period adds to the donation total. Don’t forget to add books to your Christmas shopping lists!

To kick off the promotion, I’m releasing two new books and celebrating with a party.

November 12, Capturing Christmas, the third installment in the sweet holiday western Rodeo Romance series, releases. Pre-orders are available today! http://amzn.to/1FC8ZQj

In addition, The Christmas Vow   , the fourth book in the Hardman Holidays sweet Victorian romance series releases that day. Pre-order your copy for only $2.99! http://amzn.to/1KQHhvI

Also, a party to celebrate the release and raise awareness for JCCF will take place from 10 a.m. to 2 p.m. (Pacific Time) November 12 on Facebook. Join in the fun with guest authors, games, and oodles of cool prizes. Here’s the link to the party: http://tinyurl.com/cowboychristmasparty2

~*~

Convinced everyone deserves a happy ending, hopeless romantic Shanna Hatfield is out to make it happen, one story at a time through her sweet historical and contemporary romances. When she isn’t writing or indulging in chocolate (dark and decadent, please), Shanna hangs out with her husband, lovingly known as Captain Cavedweller. This USA Today bestselling author is a member of Western Writers of America, Women Writing the West,  Romance Writers of America,  Sweet Romance Reads, and Pioneer Hearts.

Shanna alleyoop

 

 

Riding the Rails to Yesteryear

MRSR 4 227In high anticipation, we gathered at the Mt. Rainier Scenic Railroad depot (MRSR) in Elbe, Washington. With a mournful whistle, the train, consisting of a steam engine pulling four cars, click-clacked its way toward us.

The longest continuously operating steam train in the Northwest, the Mt. Rainier Scenic Railroad is a big attraction to this tiny town. Elbe, established by German immigrants in the late 1800’s, was named after the Elbe River Valley near Hamburg, Germany. The town is also known for its famous historical Lutheran church, Evangelische Lutherische Kirche.

We had our choice of seating and our family of six adults chose the last of four cars which happened to have windows with no glass, the better choice to hang out to take pictures. Some cars had glass windows. We sat on bench seats; the car before us had tables, much like a dining car.

Bill, our conductor, made his career on trains for 41 years and in his retirement volunteers with MRSR. He coached us to signal the engineer that it was safe to move the train forward, a signal known as “High Ball” followed by the train’s engine number. Together we yelled “High Ball 17!” and the train’s whistle immediately responded. With a blast of steam, we were on our way.

A train’s whistle, originally referred to as a steam trumpet, is an efficient means of non-verbal communication and each cadence has its own meaning. One whistle indicates the train is ready to go. When we passed a crossing, we heard two long, one short, one long cadence, other times it blew in greeting as we passed various landmarks. The gentle swaying of our bench seats and the nostalgic whistle made me think of what traveling one hundred years ago must have been like. Sitting by the window, I often felt the spray of steam condensation.

The train’s maximum speed is about 10 miles per hour giving us plenty of time to view a few back yards, then wide open space with grazing cattle and horses, meadows, a spectacular beaver dam, and mountain streams cloudy with glacier runoff. At one point we were on a trestle, high in the air.

As we climbed a grade, our sturdy little train chugged what sounded to me like, “I think I can, I think I can.” As we traveled Mount Rainier’s forests and foothills in October, we viewed fall’s colorful changing leaves, mixed with brilliant green conifers. At one point, as we crossed the Upper Nisqually River, we got a peek of the great mountain, its top capped with clouds.

We pulled into the small unincorporated community of Mineral for a scheduled museum visit. Mineral originally began as a mining town, then turned into a logging camp and sawmill, neither of which are currently in operation. Today Mineral claims to have the most comprehensive collection of steam logging locomotives in the world. The excursion schedule allows 45 minutes to visit the various exhibits which include individual buildings: Railroad Logging Camp, House of Gears, Rod House and Restoration Shop. A gift shop has railroad memorabilia, and a small concession has light snacks and beverages. Some people brought lunches and sat at picnic tables situated throughout the railroad camp.

When our conductor Bill learned I was a writer, he invited my husband Bruce and me to visit Engine 17’s cab. It was a high step up, plus three more steps to a space filled with boilers and the machinery needed to pull the train. A blast of heat–about 110 degrees–made me appreciate the work of an engineer. We were told that on a hot day the engine cab can climb to 140 degrees. No wonder we often see an engineer leaning out a window! A two-foot wide walkway the width of the train gave access to two pressure gauges and about 30 valve handles. Rather than wood or coal used in the old days, this steam engine is fueled by diesel and a large fuel tank is also in the engine cab. There are no ready-made parts for this American Locomotive Company Engine 17, originally built in 1929. In its renovation, all parts had to be machined from scratch out of blocks of steel. The rebuilt engine has been in use for about 1500 hours.

The MRSR excursion takes about two hours. We rounded out our day with a late lunch at the Mount Rainier Railroad Dining Company, an old train which has been turned into an Elbe restaurant. We enjoyed our meal and our group of six had a dining room to ourselves.

For more information about the Mt. Rainier Scenic Railroad and Museum, visit www.MRSR.com or call (360) 569-7959.

The Layered Look: The Painted Hills of Oregon

Painted Hills 750

You have to keep reminding yourself that what you are seeing is real. The rolling, rounded hills striped with colors of rich rust, deep green, and yellow appear surreal, like an artist’s conception of outer space. You want to capture them on camera quickly before the illusion disappears, just to prove to the folks at home this marvelous pallet of pastels really exists.

Believe it. The Painted Hills in north central Oregon are authentic, and very old. About 30 million years ago, volcanoes from the Cascade Mountains 100 miles to the west deposited layer upon layer of cooled ash over the region. In time, plants and animals churned the surface, water flowed, eroding and redistributing the minerals, and air oxidized the ash. Many different minerals combine to produce the colorful display we see today: aluminum, silicon, iron, magnesium, manganese, sodium, and many more.

Very few plants are able to grow on the Painted Hills. The soils bind water so intensely plants are unable to draw nourishment. So, except in crevasses and gullies where some plants survive, the hills are bare.

From a distance the striped hill surfaces look hard as though they are painted on canvas, but close-up, you can see they have a popcorn appearance and, particularly after a rain, they are soft and spongy. For this reason, visitors are asked to keep on trails and to avoid walking on the hills. Noticeable trails, however, are created by deer and antelope.

Several good walking trails traverse Painted Hills with excellent interpretive signs and brochures. The moderately strenuous, 1.5-mile Carroll Rim Trail rewards the hiker with an outstanding view of the Painted Hills and Sutton Mountain. For a close-up view of a crimson hill and to see the claystone popcorn structure, take the short Painted Cove Trail which winds around the hill on a wooden walkway.

Another interesting hike is the quarter-mile Leaf Hill Trail that takes walkers past the area where large quantities of plant fossils have been removed for study. Except for this trail, fossils are rarely found in the Painted Hills.

The Painted Hills, located 10 miles west of Mitchell, off U.S. 26, is one of three units of the John Day Fossil Beds National Monument. In 1975 Congress established the monument which is composed of 14,000 acres and contains rocks preserving millions of years of plant and animal life. The other two units are the Sheep Rock Unit, near the town of Dayville, Oregon, and the Clarno Unit, 18 miles west of Fossil, Oregon. The Sheep Rock Unit, located at the intersection of State Route 19 and U.S. 26, has several trails and overlooks.

The Clarno Unit, 18 miles west of Fossil, OR, known for its Clarno Nut Beds, is one of the world’s finest fossil plant sources where more than 300 plant species have been found. Several trails allow visitors to see the actual fossils embedded in rock.

Be sure to visit the Thomas Condon Palenotology Center, a National Park Service research facility dedicated to the John Day Fossil Beds. It also serves as the park visitor center and fossil museum. We were fascinated as we watched through a picture window a scientist at work in a laboratory and collections room which contains more than 45,000 specimens.

Another interesting side visit is the James Cant Ranch, located on both sides of the John Day River in the John Day Fossil Beds National Monument. The Cant Ranch complex is preserved as an interpretive site showing visitors an early 20th-century livestock ranch. The James Cant Ranch is listed on the National Register of Historic Places. In addition, there are several short trails with exhibits showing a ranch of yesteryear with original wagons and farming equipment.

There are several camping facilities near Prineville, a small town (population 5,000) about 50 miles southwest of the Painted Hills. Prineville Reservoir State Park, located 17 miles south of Prineville, is a large 70-site facility. In addition, several U.S. Forest Service campgrounds are in the area.

Take your time at the John Day Fossil Beds National Monument. The area, particularly the Painted Hills, is a unique, fascinating place to visit and a photographer’s delight.

 

Book Review: Moonshadows

Moonshadows

 

Settle in for an engaging period mystery with Moonshadows by Julie Weston.

Nellie Burns steps into a man’s world of photography in the small mining town of Ketchum, Idaho in the early 1920s. In Chicago she’d worked in a photography studio, but only with portraits. Now she plans to follow her heart’s desire with nature photography.

Nellie hires crusty retired miner Rosy Kipling to take her out to capture a winter night scene where “the moon will shine full on and create shadows on snow.” Although he’s never far from his bottle of whiskey, he and Nellie form a sort of bond.

While on her cold night-time trek, she makes a startling discovery at a nearby cabin. She discovers a hideous crime, then another. Nellie uses her talents as a photographer to capture on film what she discovers, but then finds herself embroiled in the mystery. Nellie’s fierce desire to be independent may cause her to be a victim as well. As the story spins into a tight mystery, Nellie emerges as a reluctant heroine, sometimes doubtful of her course, but determined that right will prevail.

The reader sees, through Nellie’s observant eyes, the flavor of Idaho’s rugged landscape in the early 20th Century. Moonshadows is packed with Idaho history, rich characters and information about the early days of photography and its cumbersome equipment. Weston does a worthy job of capturing the spirit of small town living and the attitudes of the day.

Moonshadows is the first of the series, ”A Nellie Burns and Moonshine Mystery.” For more information about the author, visit julieweston.com

Book Review: Free Spirit

Free SpiritJoshua Safran’s Free Spirit: Growing up on the Road and off the Grid is a haunting, beautifully written memoir about his appalling childhood. Although the subject matter is grim, the book is never-the-less poignant and often wryly funny.

Joshua’s early memories take place in the l970s San Francisco. His mother Claudia, steeped in hippie/revolutionary activism, searches for what she believes to be utopia. She leaves San Francisco in search of the perfect “intentional community,” a promised land free of nuclear war.

Joshua and his mother embark on a series of wild on-the-road adventures. There is no doubt Claudia loves her son, but many of her actions show a gross lack of common sense. In one instance, mother and son travel for days–mostly hitchhiking–to a Rainbow Gathering. She doesn’t think to bring a tent, or even food. Joshua is left on his own for days while his mother takes up with a just-met lover. Rain-soaked and miserable, the six-year-old pilfers a blanket and, on his own, finds food and shelter. Drugs and alcohol are plentiful; real food scarce.

Through the years Claudia travels with different men, but Joshua, even as a young child, can see no idealistic future with any of them. Claudia is unbelievably naive, always making excuses for her current lover’s failings. Through all their travels, she teaches her son a love of books and he learns to read at an early age.

They try a variety of living situations–communes, make-shift homes, a teepee, buses, a trailer, an abandoned ice-cream truck, and on Camano Island, Washington, a lean-to built on a stump. In the meantime Claudia has married an abusive Salvadorian guerrilla. Joshua struggles with his step-father’s alcohol-fueled abuse to both his mother and to him, or alternatively listens to their noisy love-making in their tiny water-logged shack. Joshua is eager to go to school, but he has huge obstacles to overcome to even get ready. They have no running water, no electricity, not even a decent outhouse. Joshua doesn’t own a comb, toothbrush, or a mirror. His clothes are patched and dirty. Kids bully him and tease him about his unkempt appearance. Still, he loves school, loves to learn and especially loves being warm. Eventually they move to Stanwood, just across the bridge from Camano Island, and he takes solace in the Stanwood library, relishing in the many books, being able to use the bathroom to wash himself with warm running water, and as a refuge from his abusive step-father.

Free Spirit is, in the end, a story of triumph. The language is rough and the situations harrowing, but it is an honest, stark but eloquently-told coming-of-age story. At the end of the book the author sums up his adult life. What he has accomplished is impressive.

To learn more about the author, visit http://www.jsafran.com/

 

Book Review: Go Set a Watchman

go-set-a-watchman-281x400Go Set a Watchman, the book itself, has an interesting history. When Harper Lee presented her first novel to a literary agent in the 1960’s, the author was persuaded to rewrite it from the main character, the child Jean Louise Finch’s, point of view. To Kill a Mockingbird was the result, a book that became one of the most widely read books dealing with race in America. Now, 55 years later, the “original” book has been released.

Go Set a Watchman begins with Jean Louise Finch, now 26, returning home to the small town of Maycomb, Alabama, from New York City, where she has lived and worked for the past few years. She plans to spend three weeks visiting her father, 72 year-old Atticus Finch a beloved attorney who, despite suffering the crippling effects of rheumatoid arthritis, still practices law. Although the novel doesn’t specify the date, it is presumably in the mid-to-late 1950’s, because the Supreme Court has passed the school desegregation law, a 1954 law that has incensed most Southerners.

Having lived in New York, Jean Louise is seeing Maycomb County in a different light. In New York she has worked and lived near people of color, but in Maycomb she’s taken aback by what she sees as gross inequality. Worse, she sees her father, whom she has always worshiped, in a different, unfavorable light.

Go Set a Watchman is an important book for our times. Harper Lee doesn’t gloss over racial attitudes. She looks at the whole person, strengths and flaws together. While To Kill a Mockingbird is considered a coming-of-age novel, Go Set a Watchman is a coming-of-age novel for an adult, a work of wisdom, humanity and passion, a book evocative of another time, but relevant today. It isn’t necessarily a fun or easy read, but it’s a book that made me think. I highly recommend Go Set a Watchman.

Book Review: Major Pettigrew’s Last Stand

Major Pettigrew

Helen Simonson’s debut novel, Major Pettigrew’s Last Stand, is a delightful, charming story centered around Major Ernest Pettigrew (retired).

In the small English countryside village of Edgecombe St. Mary, Major Pettigrew, a widower, is attracted to a lovely widow, Pakistani shopkeeper, Mrs. Jasmina Ali. Although Mrs. Ali was born in Great Britain and, in fact, has never been to Pakistan, she follows many of the traditions of her culture.

The Major and Mrs. Ali are drawn together by their love of literature and loneliness resulting from the loss of their spouses, but soon find themselves caught up in stronger feelings than mere friendship and a good pot of tea.

When they attend a country club program that spirals out of control, they find their relationship threatened. The village considers the Major a pillar of their community, while regarding Mrs. Ali as a foreigner.

The author, Helen Simonson, was born in England and raised in a small village. The English humor and way of expression is part of the enchantment of this novel. At one point the Major finds himself in a stressful situation. “He calmed his voice to a tone suitable for placating large dogs or small, angry children.” Great emphasis is placed on tradition, the importance of one’s family, and appearances. The threat of change can be one’s undoing, or can it be a good thing?

Major Pettigrew’s Last Stand is a fun read, but it also has its moments of truth, issues most of us face in our modern world. I loved spending time in the English mindset, particularly of an older man happily set in his ways. And I particularly appreciated Major Pettigrew’s wit. To learn more about the author, visit http://www.helensimonson.com/

Book Review: Arctic Dreams

Arctic DreamsArctic Dreams by Barry Lopez is a compelling masterpiece about the Arctic, the mysterious land of stunted forests, frozen seas, and animals perfectly suited to the harsh far north.

The book offers exquisite descriptions of the biology, anthropology, and history of a land few of us will ever see. The arctic’s harshness has carved a way of life unknown to all but a few. Through the centuries, various countries have sent men to explore this mysterious land, and more often than not, the explorers did not live to tell about it.

Arctic Dreams is not a book you rush through. Nor does the author hurry through his descriptions of the animals, plants, sea life, or the frozen sea itself that is both the giver and taker of life.

Lopez’s keen observation of life is amazing in its scope. He is an uncompromising defender of the wild country and its native inhabitants, and shares minute details of the far north. He lingers with his description of the polar bear, its habits, its ability to not only survive but thrive in this cold country. He shares his fascination of the narwhal with its ivory tusk spiraling out of its forehead. This “unicorn of the sea” lives year round in the Arctic waters of Greenland, Canada and Russia. Many animals, birds and sea life are discussed in great detail: how they survive, how they relate to each other as sources of food, and how they serve the native people.

The author speaks highly of the Eskimos and normally uses that broader term for the native Arctic people throughout the book. Eskimos today more often speak of themselves in terms or their origin, such as “Inuit” that refers specifically to Eskimos of the eastern Canadian Arctic. Lopez has high regard for the Eskimos’ skill of survival, of observation, and adaptation to the harsh environment.

Memorable moments in the book stay with me. In describing a particular scene at Melville Bay, Lopez states, “It was so beautiful it made you cry,” but in the next breath, while looking at an iceberg, he says, “It was so beautiful it made you afraid.”

Lopez’ Arctic is a land of contradictions and mystery, of rare, raw beauty. Through Barry Lopez’s precise and thorough descriptions, I experienced a sense of this frozen landscape and could see, through his observant eyes, the beauty of this wild place.

If you’re a lover of nature and value detailed descriptions, you will appreciate Arctic Dreams. It’s a scholarly and engaging Arctic experience. To learn more about the author, visit http://www.barrylopez.com/

Book Review: Sacred Hearts

Sacred HeaartsI was riveted to this book. Having read Sarah Dunant’s The Birth of Venus, I hoped this last novel of the trilogy would be as good. I wasn’t disappointed. Sacred Hearts is a powerful account of convent life in the northern Italian city of Ferrara.

In the late sixteenth century, the price of wedding doweries was so exorbitant that most noble families could afford to marry off only one daughter. The remaining women were dispatched to convents, with doweries to be sure, but much less than for a wedding. Many of these women went against their will. Some adjusted to the rigors of convent life, others chafed at the idea of spending their lives cloistered in a strict environment, following rigid rules, sometimes at the whims and dictates of the outside world.

When sixteen-year-old Serefina is forced into the Santa Caterina convent, ripped from her family and the man she loves, she is consumed with rage. She’s a talented young woman, bright and gifted with a thrilling singing voice, but she is determined to never surrender to what she believes to be a place of horrors.

Sister Zuana, the convent’s dispensary mistress and the daughter of a doctor, is sent to sedate the ranting young newcomer. Remembering her early years at Santa Caterina, the older nun becomes a mentor. What follows–the intricate relationship of trust and betrayal–is the story of Sacred Hearts. The Abbess, Madonna Chiara, who commands the convent’s total and unquestioning obedience, plays an important role in the intrigue and complications of life in a shuttered world.

Durant describes convent life in such realistic detail that the reader can feel the chilly dampness of the stone walls and floors, the bone-weariness of 2:00 a.m .prayers, the discipline of imposed fasting, silence, and humiliation. But one also feels the pure acceptance of Christ, the joys of serving, and of being able to exercise one’s talents to benefit sisters of the convent to the glory of God.

Sacred Hearts is an absorbing, meticulously researched novel of historical fiction. Durant gives life to the Renaissance period, particularly of its brutal affect on women.

I highly recommend this book and plan to read the second of the trilogy, In the Company of the Courtesan.

Harmattan!

 

Image © 1968 Sydney Oats, used under CC by 2.0 license

Image © 1968 Sydney Oats, used under CC by 2.0 license

 

From:  Tubob: Two Years in West Africa with the Peace Corps

 

 

One day while living and working in the west African country of The Gambia with the Peace Corps, my husband Bruce and I looked to the east and saw a solid wall of sand coming our way. Fierce winds carried sand and dust with amazing force. The wind was so great, Bruce hung onto a corner of our roof, afraid that it would blow off. I hung on to Bruce. We closed our eyes to the stinging wind and bowed our heads to shield our eyes. When it was over we found sand everywhere, in every crevice, nook and corner.

A harmattan? We’d heard of the harmattan, a strong wind that blows from the Sahara Desert during the dry season. This must have been it.

A couple of weeks later we received a note from George Scharffenburger, The Gambia’s Peace Corps Director. He was bringing his guest, Terry, who was in charge of The Gambia desk at Peace Corps headquarters in Washington, D.C. to visit us. Terry was interested in seeing how Peace Corps volunteers lived and worked in their host country.

We lived in what was known as the “U.N. compound.” Our living conditions were quite adequate, considering some Peace Corps accommodations. And compared to our African neighbors, our kitchen was luxurious. In The Gambia, most villagers where we lived “up river” in the village of Mansajang, cooked on an open fire, with a large pot balanced on three rocks.

We considered our living situation very special with a 3-room mud-brick 30 x 10-foot house, and a round thatched-roof one-room mud-brick hut, about 20 feet in diameter, that we used for a bedroom. The 3-room house contained a kitchen, a small sitting room where we ate, and a small bedroom. The bedroom was for the convenience of U.N. visiting guests, such as the Frenchman responsible for keeping the many fresh-water well foot-pumps in repair. Bruce worked as a Peace Corps volunteer for the United Nations well-digging unit, while I was a health worker based at the Basse Health Centre.

By American standards, our 3-room house was very crude. There was no glass in the windows, nor screens. There was a large gap between the corrugated roof and walls, and all that openness meant flying insects had easy entry. The kitchen didn’t have running water; in fact, it didn’t have a sink. We did have a small refrigerator, which was a blessing, and a small propane 3-burner stove, much like a camp stove. There were no enclosed built-in cupboards, but we fashioned a set of shelves for our food supplies. Our pots and pans, dishes and silverware were arranged on a table, which also served as my work space to prepare meals.

Our shared latrine, merely a hole in the ground, was in a corner of the compound with a thatched fence around it for privacy.

An African family also lived in the compound, plus there were two empty huts, placed there for the convenience of traveling U.N. drivers transporting supplies back and forth 250 miles to the capital city, Banjul. The African family of 4 lived in a round hut exactly like the one we used as our bedroom.

George and Terry arrived bearing mail for us from our family. There was no individual mail service where we lived, but it was the custom for people coming from the capital city to bring mail with them. We showed them around; Terry was obviously impressed and mentioned that we had a nice arrangement. Up-river where we lived in “the bush” was noticeably hotter than down-river where they had the benefit of ocean breezes.

Terry soon wanted to take a shower. She was a bit taken aback, when I showed her our “shower,” which amounted to a wooden platform with two full buckets of water. Terry had never taken a bucket bath, but she was game. Actually, I think she thought it quaint. When finished, I noticed she didn’t go to the well to refill the buckets for the next person, as she had found them. The well we used served the entire village of Mansajang.

I served dinner, we had a nice visit, then turned in for the night. The “guest” bedroom had two single cots. During the night we had another harmattan. There’s really nothing we could do to protect ourselves or our guests. With all the openings in the small house and nothing but screens in the hut, we just hunkered down to wait it out. This was Terry’s first experience with a harmattan. The next morning she woke up covered with fine sand in her hair, her ears, her bedding, even in her opened suitcase. With resignation, I began washing all the pots, pans, dishes and silverware which lay exposed on the table so that I could begin to prepare our breakfast. But first, I had to dump water out of the kitchen pail, since it was filthy with sand and dirt, and fetch fresh water from the well. Things move slowly in Africa.

Terry obviously no longer felt our living situation quaint. I don’t know that she saw the humor in my statement, “Now you know how a sugar cookie feels.” George and Terry’s enthusiasm for our living conditions vanished. They couldn’t leave fast enough. For us it was business as usual.