sounds of Mukinge

There's always a fair amount of sound at my place, although the weird African birds seem to be relegated strictly to the capital, Lusaka.  As I've mentioned before, my front door opens up onto the bus stop for the hospital, and the buses usually run around 4-5 am, so there's a fair amount of traffic noise early in the morning.  I am amazed at the perserverance (or confusion) of the crickets here; there is a 24-7 buzz around my house of crickets; it's very soothing, although a bit creepy when you think of the sheer mass of insect life required to make that kind of noise.  Also adding to the background hum is my refrigerator, which is on its 3rd or 4th life (like many things here, it's been patched together) but still rattles along.  You do have to be careful about touching it, however, because the lower edge is electrified for some reason and you will get a big shock.  My neighbor is also quite fond of music, so there's usually something upbeat playing next door.  African music is very happy -- even in church, they are not big on the introspective songs that we seem to like here in the states.  And I am working my way through my iTunes library to make sure I've listened to every track at least once; I'm working backwards and am up to the 'D's so I should be done soon.  I also get a fair amount of guitar playing in, which always turns the heads of the people walking by.
The noise I don't like, however, is the wailing when someone dies in the hospital.  Especially for the kids, there are usually several family members who will come out in front of the hospital and keen and howl for awhile.  This may happen in the middle of the night, and often wakes me up from sleep.  I still can't help feeling guilty and little sick to my stomach every time it happens, which is about every other day, on average.  By the next morning, there is usually just an empty bed, freshly made, where they used to be, but everyone knows what happened, and you move on about rounds, helping those you can.
My back door: