What does it feel like to have a body that can be crushed to
pieces so easily? (in regards to my ant roommates)
While reading a book on my porch one evening, legs propped
up on the broken-backed chair in front of me as usual, a baby goat suddenly
walks up to me out of nowhere, as if I was its final destination, and comes
close enough to briefly nuzzle it’s nose against my leg. I make some goat sounds,
it makes some goat sounds, and then just as suddenly, it leaves.
Teaching is definitely one of those jobs that brings out the
very best and the very worst in you.
What the fuck am I even doing here?
Felt so maternal one Thursday night when I refused Tsepang,
the eternal insomniac, the use of my external hard drive to watch movies on a
school night, after explaining to him the things our bodies do when we sleep
and why we need it. And even more so the next morning when he told me he
listened to me and felt better.
(when only five grade 6 students (out of 31) got a 50% or
more on the final exam) It’s only been a year Grace. That’s not enough time to
affect students pass rates/English comprehension rates that profoundly.
The next time a complete stranger abandons what they’re
doing to excitedly run up, hug me and walk with me wherever I’m going, I’m
going to act 100 times as excited as they are. See if it weirds them out!
A great start to my day:
1)
Nice strong cup o’ coffee
2)
Raisins in my oatmeal
3)
Sunshine
4)
A pre-school poop (not to be confused with
preschool poop. OVER those)
5)
When the neighbor kiddos are out on my walk to
school (“’M’E MPHO! BYE BYEEEE!)
I kind of hate the English language.
Big laughs this week from the s&!@ I’ve said (also seen,
heard and done) in Lesotho whatsapp group: “Is there a better feeling in the
world than when a Mosotho is intently staring at you so long that they walk
smack into a pole? I really don’t think so.”
Distracted from thoughts of the drought and water while
looking out at the crunchy brown grass on a taxi by an ntate
(old man) rockin’ out to “call me maybe” blasting on the radio.
Here’s a weird thought: this time next year I’ll be finished
Peace Corps.
Patience reserves are waning. Sweat dripping endlessly.
Summer’s here in Lesotho. Just get me to the 11th ya’ll.
Oh my - sounds like you've had enough of being ogled. People didn't stare at me as much...a moment of curiosity, then said, "Lumela," and moved on - maybe because I don't look the same as you? Now that school is over and you don't have the distractions of teaching, these other experiences loom larger. Hang in. Sweet goat story. I wish a goat had nuzzled me! I'm sorry about the pass-rate...if the test wasn't so ridiculous, I bet more kids would pass! Stupid test. xoxo Rekhadi.
ReplyDeleteDearest - You sound just about as human as a being can get! All the good/bad/joyful/frustrating/maddening/wonderful feelings that swirl through you seem to get out on 'paper' (there'll come a day when people won't know what the word 'paper' means!) in such a delicious kind of way.
ReplyDeleteI wish you could have seen the play that just ended. A Rudolfo Anaya (the greatest living New Mexico writer) play about how luminarias were invented (strictly a fictional account, but lovely). A young girl--Dad off to the Army, Grampa too sick to cut wood, the village perhaps not going to have their traditional Christmas (Pastoras). She figures out a way for luminarias to be lit that don't demand her Grampa to cut the wood. The set is ablaze with luminarias at the end and the cast (all 25 of them!!) sing "Feliz Navidad" to the audience. It's quite heartwarming!
So now I get to assist the Stage Manager for Hamlet, where everyone gets killed. Far cry from the Farolitos play! And then I get to see Libby and Sharon for a few days before Libby flies off to see YOU!
Life's good! I love you and would smother you with kisses if I could. oxoxox Gammy