Green fingers

After five days of voting, the polls will close this afternoon. Though we laid low for the first few days of the week, things have been quiet enough that we have made several ventures into town. Very little has seemed out of the ordinary. Like rubble in a stream, lumbering army trucks in the town square and clusters of soldiers playing dominoes with guns slung over the backs of their chairs seem to have little effect on life flowing around them. There aren't quite as many vegetables available in the market put people are still out and about, shopping, selling, milling and chatting. It has been remarkable to see so many people voting for the first time in their lives. I am amazed by their patriotism. Zainab, the woman who helps me wash laundry and dishes went to vote on Monday morning. She got to the polls at 6am along with hundreds of other people. She wasn't able to cast her vote until noon. When she came to work she proudly showed me the green dye between her hennaed fingers that marked her as one who had voted. This single mom waited six hours in the blazing heat to vote in an election that, quite honestly, scarcely can claim even the veneer of democracy. While she scrubbed the dried rice off my dirty plates with her colorful hands Zainab briefly mentioned the candidiate she optimistically hopes will be announced as a winner in the days to come. I didn't have the heart to tell her he dropped out of the race altogether a few weeks ago, before voting even started. But in some ways, I'm not even sure that it would have mattered if I did. For her, like many other people I suspect, simply being able to walk to a voting booth, make her mark and drop it in a box to be counted was incredibly empowering. Whether of not her voice will ever be heard, she was able to speak.

The UN security officer came by this morning to collect the names of our "relocatable staff" so they know how many helicopters to have on standby in case people are unhappy with election results that may begin leaking out as early as tomorrow. It's a bit of a roller coaster. After the flurry of preparing for anything last week we have relaxed into the calm and even happy excitement of this week. Now we are back to needing to be ready for anything. And I have to shush my naive/optimistic side that believes so easily nothing will happen and we will be able to go on living here alongside everyone else for years to come. (She talks far to much sometimes.) All I know is right now, I am so proud to be here witnessing this firsthand. And I know that next time I vote, I won't be complaining about the lines.