A little bell rings energetically at 6:00, to get the sisters up so they can start praying at 6:30. Thankfully, I am allowed to sleep in until 7:00 in time for a breakfast made from soggy rice and tea. I feel like I’ve only slept for 1 hour.
In the morning, I notice a strong smell of petrol emanating from my body and realize that all my clothes sport large spot of gasoline. My thin travel backpack has absorbed a flow of fuel from the ill-closed fuel canister. I quickly clean my jeans and shirt as best I can, in a bucket of cold water, with market-made greasy clothing soap and hang them out to dry along with the sisters’ white underwears on the line.
The training for Reduced Risk Maternity (literally translation for Maternité à Moindre Risque) continues in the school room where doctors, nurses and sage-femme alike sit on kid stools and wait for the presenter to write on the blackboard.