Considering the eight quarts of sweat that drench my clothing every day, wearing clothes a second time around is simply not an option in this country; consequently a massive pile of dirty clothes accumulates rapidly in my living space, which means that it's always time to do the laundry.
But here, doing the laundry brings new meaning to the term “chore”. The whole process is begun by proper motivation, namely the realization that if I don't wash TODAY, I won't have any underpants two days from now. Get a move on.
Step two, thou shalt separate! Clothes that cost 50 cents tend to lack, how do I say, quality, and are notorious for being bleeding messes. After a two-month scientific study on the art of washing clothes, I discovered that, when washed with colored clothes, the rate of change from white to tie-dye occurs in 1.2 minutes exactly; in the same study, it was discovered that my recognition of a mistake takes .001 minutes exactly after the mistake has been made.
Next, get yourself to a water pump and start pumping (do this for a long time). Add powdered soap to the water, and soak the clothes. Get a bar of soap. Do that thing that you watched on National Geographic documentaries where people hand wash for, like, six hours while squatting. For whites, add so much bleach that holes are burned into the clothes and open sores form on the hands. This is a necessary step for all Americans who lack a lifetime mastery of clothes washing. Note: do not add bleach to the non-white clothes. Put that one on the list of “Some of The Dumber Things Katrina Has Done.”
Intermittently during the process until this point, passers by or mocking neighbors must stop to watch and say one or all of the following remarks:
1. Ah, you already know how to wash clothes!
2. You are not finished yet? Kadugay! (So long!)
3. In America you do not wash your clothes. You have maids and machines. Americans are very rich.
4. It is very hot in the Philippines, no?
5. You should really pay someone to do that.
After many a smarmy reply and washing until the clothes smell “clean enough”, next wring out soapy clothes. Fill a basin with water. Rinse clothes. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Hang. Wait for clothes to dry while your underpants supply becomes dangerously low.
Total time: forever.
Depending on how long I wait between washings, my laundry can take anywhere from three hours to five. Really, that's because I'm slow and I take frequent breaks, but it's also because things like jeans and towels and sheets and all the things that are so easy to wash in the machine are so very, very difficult here.
And, as a reminder, this is only the laundry for one person.
While some of my fellow volunteers here claim that washing clothes by hand “brings them closer to their communities” and “gives them an understanding of the local life,” I choke on myself to think that I have to do this at least ten more times before going home.
