The first two days we worked in the orphanage we had no way to wash our hands. Since there was no running water, we could only use hand sanitizer. This was sort of ok to me at first, but I quickly realized how much I took washing my hands for granted. By the end of the second day it was driving me nuts. Now, I am not OCD about hand washing, but simply put, I like having clean hands. I remember that evening, as we were winding down in the clinic, I asked Mike, "Don't you miss washing your hands?" And that opened up a conversation comparable to two starving men talking about a cheeseburger. We were all, "...and it smells good...and it feels good..."
Taking into consideration the volume of patients we were seeing each day and that they were (bless their hearts) the dirtiest little mouths I'd ever seen, that night I decided that not being able to wash my hands was something I was no longer going to compromise on.
On the drive back to the hotel, I went over it in my mind.
I discovered it really wasn't rocket science, this hand washing business. How hard could it be? When you think about it, all you need is soap and water, right? So back at the hotel, I wandered around until I found the maids' stash of towels and toiletries, where I stole a big towel and several small bars of soap. Yes, I know, thou shalt not steal, but I hoped in this case God would give me a freebie.
At the orphanage the next morning, hotel loot in hand, I found what could be used for a basin, then found some empty water bottles. I took the bottles and poked several holes in the top (think garden watering can). Then I hung the towel through the bars on the window and voila! A hand washing station.
Nobody likes a bragger, I know, but what can I say? Everyone loved it.
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