I have my students write in their journals on Monday mornings to chronicle their weekends and to practice grammar, spelling and handwriting. Most kids write about going to movies, playing with friends and other mundane activities. One little girl submitted a copy that caught me by surprise. In summation:
“…On Saturday we had to make the sheep die. When a new baby comes, a sheep has to die. My dad cut the sheep and it made a noise, moved a bit and died. The bloods got on the ground, but it was not that much bloods. After the sheep died we ate lunch and I played with my sisters…”
I had to correct her usage of ‘bloods’, teaching her not to pluralize the word, but it was otherwise a perfectly written journal. I got to learn, too; I didn’t know that Muslims sacrificed a sheep when a child was born. Some other things that I’ve learned is that you get ‘same pinched’ for wearing the same color as someone else, Justin Beiber is a polarizing figure among 7 year olds and a ‘long toilet’ is code for going #2.
My stomach issues eventually settled after adjusting to the food, but I ate ting momos with yak cheese at a Bhutanese/Tibetan restaurant this past weekend, and it ended poorly. Later that evening, I couldn’t sleep as my heart was beating rapidly. Heartburn subsequently set in, and at about five in the morning it all came up. The next day I was extremely ill and the extent of my food intake was two slices of plain bread and an extremely small portion of plain rice. I was so nauseous that I couldn’t watch TV or do anything but writhe around in bed and battle the urge to vomit. That evening, her mom gave me a shot of vodka, thinking that the alcohol would settle my stomach, and I woke up the next morning feeling more or less normal. I had never had food poisoning before, and wouldn’t wish it upon my worst enemy. Watch what you eat.
School was affected by more political problems this week. I was woken up on Monday to learn that a ‘bandh’ had been called and that I had to set the phone tree in motion so that everyone heard about it. Of course, someone botched up the phone tree and I spent over an hour calling kids. These closures are bad news for everyone, as they affect everything and the entire day is essentially a waste. The schools have to close as protesters have ransacked them in the past, putting teachers and students in harm’s way. As much as I get annoyed with the partisan American system, I am grateful that a) we have a government, and b) it is stable.
I have recently been sleeping in the household sitting area, as Shehrish’s brother returned from boarding school for the summer and I had been in his room. I like my new room, as it’s much cooler than being upstairs and stays darker in the mornings, but the only problem is the nightly symphony of frog noise. I mentioned it one morning, and Shehrish's mother recommended that I speak to the frogs and kindly suggest that they cease croaking at night. She swears up and down that one time she kindly asked a rat to leave the household, and afterwards it never came back. I was obviously skeptical of such a phenomenon and sarcastically asked whether to address the frogs in English or Nepali. Later, to make a mockery of her animal whisperings, I made my request to the frogs and apologized for the recent massacre of their tadpoles (the fish pond was cleaned recently, eliminating millions of tiny tadpoles). I didn't ask for the frogs to leave, but simply to keep it down after 11. We went to a party and came back last night around 12. Much to my chagrin, the frogs were silent. By all means, it should have been a noisy night, as it was drizzling and they're most active when it rains. I slept peacefully throughout the night and didn't hear one croak. Shehrish's mom has been gloating and making fun of me all day, but I refuse to believe unless the trend continues for two more nights. I have made a similar request to the mosquitoes just in case I am wrong.
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