No Holla Holla!
Yesterday I broke the rules and talked to Romeo about politics. For the first time I am nervous about the election. In the morning I’ll pack a to-go bag. I pray and beg not to need it. My work has only just begun…
Every last drop. Every last crumb.
When we visited one of our students in his village Ophelia, my new small friend, served as faithful escourt. Really. She wouldn’t let go of my hand!
Today we were walking to the market and had just crossed the bridge when we heard a crash and a motorbike started skidding toward me on its side. He had collided with a bicycle not thirty feet from us. The cyclist lay on his back convulsing and my stomach dropped out as I realized in full force there was no one to call. No one here could help him.
I grabbed Krista’s hand and said quietly, “Don’t look. We should go. Walk.” We swam up stream as people poured off their porches to witness the tragedy. I glanced back only once and saw him limbs leaping as if plucked by an invisible puppeteer. He was dying.
I have felt grief and loss but never passed in the presence of death. An icy knot clenched in my gut and spread through my body. Death is all too common here. I knew it was only a matter of time. I knew I was living in a bubble of false security. But that didn’t make it any less traumatic to have it pop.
Life is so fragile, so precious. So ephemeral and fleeting. I came to Africa to savor every last drop and crumb, to really live my best life. I knew it would be dangerous to come here, but the only sure thing about life is that it ends. What if I can? Here I am.
The day was eerily normal and Krista and I didn’t speak a word about it until later. A cloud hung over everything, though, and still does. I cannot get the cyclist’s image out of my mind. I cannot stop thinking about my small brother Abe… without whose strong spirit I wouldn’t have changed my course and found my way here.
“The butterfly counts not months but moments. And has time enough.” Tagore
Elections and Exams
Yesterday I gave my exams. It was a disaster. Ok, not entirely, but pretty close. Prince Johnson, Nimba county’s favorite presidential candidate, was in town and the students were going crazy. “Our pa-paye is coming! I was to see my pa-paye!” Our principal forbid him to come on campus because of exams, but the students burst out of the gate and lined the road. The VPI stood guard flogging as many as he could reach, but the gate shook perilously and it was no match for their enthusiasm.
As the campus started clearing I decided it was time to get serious. My exam didn’t start for 30 minutes, but I walked over to my 11th graders and begged them to stay. “Your pa-paye will be back if he wins. My exam happens only once.” I told them to carrying the chairs outside and within ten inutes we were set up under the trees. The sweltering sun had disappeared, replaced by a churning gray soup. “I beg! I beg!” I thought looking up. “Do not rain during my exam!” A car passed on the road, blaring Teaching You the Thing and the kids charged toward it wooping. “I beg you to stay!” I screamed, throwing my arms in the air. “We will begin without you!”
Few of them listened, but by the time 2:00 struck they were miraculously seated and attentive, my 100 Liberian math babies. The prefects helped me distribute blank sheets then Krista and I circulated with the exams. The sky continued to darken, but I refused to look up. It would not happen.
A man in short-shorts and a dirty t-shirt wandered in from the road and started shouting incoherently. I marched over and pointed. “Go! Do not disrupt my exam!” He looked at my blankly and grabbed himself. The students shook their heads and quietly waved me away, “Ms. RB, he’s sick in his mind.” I nodded and turned in time to see two drunks on a motorbike careen perilously close to my outdoor classroom. The students hardly noticed. TIA.
We finished barely ten minutes before the rain started splashing down and by that time I was trying to start my second exam. Disaster. The geography teacher was administering a very difficult exam and the students begged to keep working… so I had a “few words” with him and started 30 minutes late. The rain was so heavy I could hardly speak and it quickly began blowing and splashing into the room. The students were crammed in like we were one giant bush taxi, on each other’s lap, five to most benches.
I confiscated someone’s copybook within a few minutes and threw her out. I was furious. I marched her outside and screamed like I never have to a student. She smiled impishly and it just fanned my anger. “Ms. RB, I am not getting you. I beg.” Oh was I mad! I lectured her right outside (I’m sure they could all hear inside) about wasting time and money, ruining her life, bringing me all the way from America to act like this… the list goes on.
The class was just horrible. They weren’t even pretending to follow the rules. At the end I said I’d take a point off everyone’s exam for each person I saw talking. We got to two before it was utter chaos and I gave up. I’ve graded about ten of their papers. Only one person has passed. NOT a good feeling.
The Miracle of Motivation
Exams start tomorrow so today was a half day. School was to end at recess, but after second period the campus started clearing for no apparent reason (but most likely because Krista and I were the only ones still trying to teach).
I walked into 11A to see just two of the fifty students straggling out. “I will stay if you want to have class,” I said. They turned and went back in. Word spread quickly and within two minutes I had a class of sixteen, some who came over from 11B to continue with me.
I took questions and we reviewed the whole time. There was no one else still on campus at 3:15 so I told them to forget about the bell and leave if they wanted to. They all stayed another twenty minutes doing multiplication problems.
Probably one of my best days yet.
A candle loses nothing by lighting another candle.
Quizzing
A few weeks ago I volunteered Krista and myself to coach the quizzing team. We met with them for the first time today and it was awesome. These are the kids I can make the biggest difference for.
Krista and I sloshed to school in the rain, both recovering from foot-glass injuries, and met about ten “boys” mostly in twelfth grade. I asked a lot of technical questions about the game then they did a mock tournament for us. I couldn’t get the stupid grin off my face! It’s loud and theatrical and very nerdy. They haven’t had any teachers to help them so they’ve been researching and writing their own questions.
I could have hugged George, my senior prefect, when he said, “Gentlemen, remember. It isn’t just about quizzing: it’s about improving your mind.”
Great rainy Sunday.
Academic Check Point
I love my eleventh graders. They are serious, well behaved, and motivated. Today I decided to play a game with them even though there are more than 50 students in each section. It was a big success! They did all the work. I just played referee and put problems on the board. We had everything from teams “Knowledge” and “Joy” to team “Academic Check Point” and “Brain 52.”
I give them their second quiz in the afternoon. I think they’re ready. I hope I’m right. In twelfth grade I am teaching them to plot points on axes. Terrifying. Trying small small. What doesn’t challenge you doesn’t change you.
We picked up our new clothes from the tailor this morning and they’re gorgeous. They’re also too small. Sigh. I think we’ll stick with him, though. He did a great job.
Bobpaye hangs out on the porch, proving that this coat is even cuter as a dress.
The second day of class was a little rough. Eleventh grade went fine, but in tenth grade I was just getting blank, annoyed, stares. “Ms. RB, we are not getting you.” I’m not quite sure why. We were calculating percentages and I thought it would be so easy!
I continue to be completely exhausted. Up too late last night. Rushing around all day today… with my mind all in the clouds about other things and other people. We got caught in a rain storm after school and a UN guy offered us a ride. I was semi-mortified to be wearing my math lapa dress, covered with chalk and soaked, but he just smiled and pretended to run for his camera.
We spent the night cooking and lesson planning by candle light. I walked out on the porch a few minutes ago. There was lightening in the distance, but I looked up and saw a half moon glittering through the palms, surrounded by hundreds of stars. I smiled and laughed. “We are home,” my heart said. “Welcome home.”
Classes and Cats
Today was the real first day of class. Kind of exciting! I wore my pear dress and Krista wore one of her lapa suits. We looked fine-o trekking in under the blazing sun.
I didn’t teach until second period and Krista didn’t teach at all today so we waited small in the library then she came and observed my 11B class. I did almost the exact same thing with all my classes and they were all great, really smart and well behaved. These are the cream of the crop, though. The bad kids will show up in a few weeks.
After school Krista brought me PB and J and she and our friend Romeo were waiting for me outside. “Guess what, RB!” She yelled. “Romeo brought us tangerines and found us a cat!” What?! Freaking amazing. If you want a cat in Liberia you have to trade a chicken… and we don’t have any chickens. I’ve tried to buy cats from people since we got here without success. Romeo literally just bumped into us on the road one day, but he’s been an awesome friend. Too bad he goes back to Gbarnga in a few days for school…
We walked way across town to his cousin’s house, caught it, and put it in a rice sack. “Good thing she is so weak and hungry,” Romeo said with a smile, “or she’d bust right out of here!” We named her Quipolo, the Mono word for “white people,” and she’s awesome. Extremely tiny. Extremely thin, but the most friendly cat we’ve seen in Liberia. She’s been following us around the house meowing and purring all night. I fed her spaghetti and tomato for dinner (all we had) and to my surprise she ate it all right up. It was so Lady and the Tramp watching her slurp it by candle light.
I feel at home here. In Liberia less than six months, I already can’t imagine going back to America. That’s the part that scares me. That’s also the part that sends an anasa kata back to the brave girl who got on a plane in June and said, “Well, we’ll see.” I would risk it all again one-hundred fold to have this experience again. I feel like the luckiest girl in all Peace Corps.
Really.
“Make the most of yourself, for that is all there is of you.” Ralph Waldo Emerson
Sundays are for Baking
Three girls haul water through the front yard.
What a busy Sunday! I was up by 7:00, starting wash with my coffee. After stopping to cook breakfast and talk to half the people passing through our yard, we finished around 1:00. Oh my exhaustion! I didn’t feel like walking up the road to get bread so we made pancakes. Then I fired up the coal pot and, after getting some neighbors to help light it, baked shortbread. The fire was too hot and the first one burned on top and bottom. I dialed it down (ha!) and the second one looked a lot better. We left it with a friend, though, so I’m not sure it if was ok. It probably was… for a first attempt. We went to visit him around 6:30 and he fed us steak and, wait for it, fettuccine. Shokran, Sanniquellie.
life magnanimous 