Something you might not imagine about small villages in developing countries is how incredibly LOUD they can be throughout the day. Coming from the quiet suburbs of Rhode Island, I often have to use earplugs I stole from the plane just to hear myself think for a while. Imagine, if you will, the following sounds all happening at once in a place roughly 2/5ths of a mile long:
Trucks, cars, and motorcycles passing by, often honking for no discernible reason; blacksmiths hammering out farm tools; the sound of people "mitoto"-ing rice to make flour (imagine a giant mortal and pestle that shakes the ground when you pound down in it); at least 2 babies crying at all times; mothers calling children, children calling mothers, children calling children at the other side of town; pigs screaming and wailing at their slaughter, bulls parading down the road, chickens and roosters squawking/cock-a-doodle-doing all day long (don't believe cartoons. Roosters have no affinity to the morning and in fact never shut up), and dogs barking; carpenters building houses and cutting wood; buckets filling with water at the pump; people greeting each other in the street, often as loudly as they can; generators humming, and the music that they play thanks to the power created; radios blaring, and a girl across the street who sings atrociously, offensively, and seemingly intentionally in an off-key falsetto that drives me absolutely nuts, to the same 3 songs. On Sundays, add to this church bells, and people singing hymns (there are two churches within 10 seconds of my house) for at least 5 hours.
Don't even get me started about market day, when 2,000 addition people come to my town to buy and sell goods.
