And so it's February and all is fine in Monapo. The mangos are dwindling and tomatoes larger than ping pong balls and watermelon are slowly but surely making their way into the market. I love going to the market just as it's getting dark. The fishermen who go to the ocean during the day and return with their catch sell in stalls lit by candles. And I love it because people don't realize you're white until you're close to them so there is less staring. I buy my supplies to make french fries, egg sandwiches with garlic and PB&J sandwiches. Those are my specialties for the moment. Everything takes a while to make because you have start cutting or bleaching any vegetables beforehand to get rid of any parts that may end up causing you to dash to the latrine and you also have to light charcoal, an art in itself. It's almost aerobic. While cutting vegetables or fruit, you work your shoulders by waving away flies and you use your biceps and forearms to fan the flames so your fire won't die. Finally, when it's time to eat, you're a sweaty, sweaty mess and ready for a bucket bath.
I had a cold for a few days the other week. One day, I woke up with a runny nose, a slight fever and a headache. Eventually working up the energy to put on flip-flops and maneuver the deadbolts on our doors to go to the bathroom, I went out to the latrine in the corner of our yard. Our embrigadad had just washed the floor inside so the ground was slippery. Just as I thought I was homefree, I fell like a house of cards in a wind tunnel - on the latrine. After lying there for a second in shock and laughing at myself, my laughter quickly turned to concern and serious consideration of how I could submerge myself in our water barrel full of boiling water with bleach to sanitize myself. I've made strides since seventh grade. I used to refuse to touch doorknobs at school without the barrier of my t-shirt and toilets other than the one in my home were considered bacteria-ridden death traps. My 12-year old self would absolutely scream at my 23-year old self or at least shake my hand only with the protective layer of their t-shirt. I walked out of the latrine and came face-to-face with the neighbor's chicken who wanders into our yard on a daily basis, crowing incessantly as if to say "suckas. I'd like you see you try to catch me." Catching that chicken is like herding...well...chickens.
Thursday I had my first day of interactions with students at school. I call them interactions because each class in the afternoon had about 20 students, about 60 less than what I will normally have. I wasn't even that nervous surprisingly. You can't show fear or they'll eat it up anyways. I had more of an adrenaline rush really. I introduced myself and had each of them say their names and where they were from. They were all quiet and attentive. I could barely hear the girls when they talked and they'd cover their mouths with their hands when they smiled or laughed. Yeah, we're gonna work on that.
The real challenge came with teaching the 8th graders during my night classes. They look to range between the ages of 10 and 35. When they see you coming to teach, they run into the classroom and stare at you. And when I say stare, it's intense. You're more interesting than a man with 7 arms in spike heels to them. Night classes are loud and rowdy so I predict discipline problems already. Slightly reminiscent of the students in Sister Act II and Stand and Deliver ("his body's decomposing in my locker"). I had them go to the front of the class to read a script on the board with another person.
Ex:
1: Hello, my name is...What is your name?
2: My name is...
So the students were basically introducing themselves. I had one boy who claimed to "have a fear of writing with chalk" come to the front with a girl to do the script. At the end, when they were supposed to say "nice to meet you," he moves in for the kill, reaching for a hug from the girl and she backed up quickly. The class exploded in laughter an all I could do was wag my finger and say "uh-uh, not in my class." After I finished my classes, I went to watch my roommate's, where every guy in the class wanted to introduce himself to me when I walked in. And then there are the popular questions 1)are you married? 2) how old are you? and 3) how many children do you have?
Yesterday I had four classes, 2 of which I had the students do the "alphabet dance-off." I gave each student a letter of the alphabet and we spelled out English words with the English pronunication at the front of the room. For example, "hotel." I made up a dance move, like the knee wobble and the slide, and "h" had to say their letter and do the dance and then "o" and so forth. They may think I'm slightly off my American rocker but I had their attention. Crazy like a fox? I like to think so. I really enjoy the kids so far though so I think I'm going to like teaching here.
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