Still so much to learn

I’ve noticed about myself that sometimes I have a tendency to think that my culture is better than the culture in which I live. (I know, this is a sad fact to have to admit, but it’s quite true. And confession is good for the soul, right?) Anyway, I have to say I have been proven wrong two times this week.

For starters, I have been able to do nothing to rid my house of cockroaches. I have tried the little black forts already mentioned, arming myself with a can of raid each time I enter the kitchen, and various other techniques already described in this blog. So my house helper, who is very resourceful, meekly approached me with a suggestion. She didn’t laugh at me for my various other approaches, just quietly suggested something.

“How about I cut up an onion and leave it on the counter for a while? I heard that the smell of onion drives them away.” So we tried it.

She was right. The cockroaches have not been around these parts for a long while. The fact remains that WE also do not like the smell of onions and each time I open the kitchen door, I get a big whiff of the stuff. But the cockroaches are history, it seems.

The other area that my cultural norms have been turned upside down has to do with samantha’s skin, and interestingly enough, also my house helper. Again, I have tried various remedies (both medical and herbal, professional and amateur) to help samantha’s skin get to be nice and baby soft, not like the hands of Paul Bunyan who spent his whole life chopping trees and riding his blue ox. Homemade oatmeal baths, vasoline, olive oil, baby oil…you name it. If it is supposed to help, I have tried everything.

Or so I thought.

The other day, my little resourceful house helper again very meekly suggested I try the “local method” for treating eczema. She told me that the climate here is so dry, that lots of children have eczema in the winter. She said she’s never met anyone that wasn’t cured by this method. And, she commented, since the other things I have tried are not helping, maybe I should try this method. What was it, you wonder?

Snake fat oil.

It’s true. Ointment made from snake fat. Yeah, those slithery things that are responsible, in part, for so much evil in this world. And they were supposed to help my sweet girl? I was highly dubious. Scratch that. I was MORE than highly dubious.

But, out of respect for my house helper and my desperation to find a way to make mantha more comfortable, I emailed my doctor and asked what he thought.

“Sure,” he replied. “We certainly don’t have a corner on treating eczema in the West!”

So last night, I opened the bottle, squeezed out some of the maroon gel, and applied it very sparingly to only the worst parts of her body. And I spent half the night praying.

When I awoke, I was amazed to see that the worst parts of her skin were tons better. They were still dry and rough, but not red or bumpy. Maybe I should attribute it fully to the snake oil, but I also know that the Lord had hand in it. (and I spent the entire morning giving my sob story to my parents, who I’m sure alerted every person distantly related to me to start praying as well!)

But, I guess the moral of the story is that maybe I shouldn’t be quite to ethnocentric! I still have a lot to learn! And who knew that snake fat oil would be teaching me...