"Yes, I have 10 husbands" ~ Wednesday, September 18, 2013

Today was quite a very full day! Ranjan, Swapna & Maru were at Swapna’s parents’ house celebrating her brother’s 10th birthday so it was just Ama & her husband at the house. I awoke around 6:00am, stayed in bed until 7:00 (really can't come alive around here!) and had a shower to cool down (the power was out) because I was stale and sticky with the night’s sweat. I had good intentions of a yoga session, but I was lazy after a few stretches and wanted to keep reading my book, Shantaram so I spent most of the morning engrossed in it. I was snacking on my sesame crackers, bananas and peanut butter and really wanting a nice hot chai tea, but I feel bad going to the house expecting someone to make it for me. I also don’t know if it’s acceptable for me to make my own (or how) so I just stayed put. I wasn’t sure if Ama would want to make breakfast for me or not (again, not wanting to expect it) because I think she and her husband eat very early in the morning shortly after they wake up around 3am or something ridiculous like that.

I was lying across the bed with my hair in a towel and my head by the window, reading my book when I could sense eyes above me. As I looked up and backwards, there was Ama’s face, peering in the window.

“Oh hello!”

She made the motion for food so I hopped up and joined her and her husband in the entry way to the kitchen for the largest breakfast I’ve ever had; potato curry, half a kilo of rice, a bowl of dhal, a big scoop of this crushed maize and water dough stuff, a scoop of tomato chutney and a serving of cooked spinach. I thought I was going to bust. I literally felt sick for about 3 hours after because I was so full, but it was delicious.

As I stood to try to take my dish out back to clean, Ama insisted I put it down. She would clean. I thanked her and headed back to my room to get ready for school and Buwa said “School now?” as I walked by, “Yes! School now!” I went into the bathroom, leaving the door open and had just squatted to pee, when I heard the door to my room squeak and a little voice say “Sophia?” I quickly pulled my pants back up and went out to see one of the little boys from class five, Uman, who was hoping to escort me to school. I asked him to give me a minute to pack my bag (and pee in peace) and joined him and 7 others outside who were all waiting to walk me to school. We picked up a few on the way, the little girls who live next door and are Ranjan’s nieces; one in Class 6, 5 and 3 as well as a few others. We had quite the little crew on the way to school.

I was to be Tara Nepal again as she was still absent and my first class was class 8. I had made up a crossword puzzle that included ‘environmental’ terms like pollution, nature, green, reduce, reuse, recycle and earth that was along the same theme as what we discussed yesterday so I wrote it on the board with the clues and had them copy and complete it in their notebooks. No one tells me what to do with the classes, sometimes Kumar will say “English” or “Math” so usually I just talk about Canada and Nepal and the environment. It’s worked out fine so far and as long as they are listening and interacting a bit in English for an hour, I’d say that’s good enough. If I can make a point about environmental awareness, then it’s even better.

Some of course are more receptive than others. I don’t know if it’s because they are in the front or if they are in the front because, but there are a few in each class whose English is quite good, they pay close attention and are eager to answer all of my questions. While it’s nice, it is easy to end up in a secluded conversation with just those students. I try to involve the back, but usually they are busy using the time to shut me out and do work for other classes in their own language. It reminds me a bit of the classes in China. I don’t get too worked up over it, but did call a boy out who seemed to make a big, obvious production of looking really interested in what was on the board whenever I walked by and would pretend to drag his pencil across the paper to copy it down, even though the information had been on the board for about half an hour and his page was either full of Nepalese characters or completely blank.

“You should be in the movies!” I exclaimed to him.

“You are a very good actor!” Even the ones who didn't understand very much English seemed to get the gist of the joke and erupted in laughter.

I was informed by an unapologetic Mr Narayan that I was not expected at his house this evening. Despite the fact that he had told me no less than 8 times to ask Ranjan’s permission to stay with his family the day before. I had brought a change of clothes and my toothbrush in my backpack for the occasion, but he said, “No, not tonight, tomorrow. Cannot tonight.” As if I was the one demanding to go to his home and they just weren’t feeling it today. He then proceeded to comfort me about the situation as if I’d just been told I only have two weeks to live.

“Are you ok? It will be tomorrow. I have no bike today.” I

I’m not sure if he walked the 20km to school, or how he arrived, but I wasn’t overly cut up about it. To be honest, he is a bit irritating. Very demanding with his tone and he interrupts and speaks over people to get your attention. He looks just like one of the Seinfeld characters, I can’t think of whom, and a little like Danny Devito with that same, short-necked stance and energetic speech.

I realize that all of the teachers are very interested in me, and want to know as much as they can. I can sense that they are just dying to ask me 100 questions when we’re in the staff room, and some don’t hold back. Those that do, only do so because of the language barrier, because if there’s someone who can ask the questions, they are quick to demand the translated version from that person. It gets a bit annoying to be sitting in a room full of people who are clearly talking about you and saying things you can’t understand. Shooting glances at you every so often, sometimes breaking out in laughter, and sometimes no one is translating for you so you have no idea what they’re saying. I assume I am the brunt of most jokes, but I guess you just have to smile and laugh along like a good, stupid foreigner.

I was placed back with class 7 a little apprehensively, but decided to woo them with photos. I whipped out the pictures of Santa & Mrs Claus (Grader and Sammy when they visited China for Christmas 4 years ago) from my bag as we discussed the Canadian and Nepalese flags. Mr ?handsome newlywed teacher? who supervised and accompanied me to a couple classes yesterday, also stayed for this class and helped to translate a few words. We got into the discussion about their holiday, Deepali (Diwali) and ours, Christmas. Apparently, they too celebrate Christmas, though not to the extent we do in the west. But then, that doesn't surprise me because there seems to be an excuse for a holiday/celebration every week. They were thrilled, if a bit confused by the photo of Mom and Dad dressed as Mrs and Mr Claus, especially when I told them they were my parents.

“No, my father isn’t Santa Claus. He just likes to dress up like him sometimes.” If they only knew…

Kumar tells me my schedule on a need-to-know basis. I have to walk up the stairs to the teacher’s lounge after every class to find out where to go next. Sometimes there’s already a teacher on their way to that class and sometimes I just get jostled along with another to sit in on their class with them, which is what happened during Period 3 when I was really keen for a “leisure” period but I was told I’d be teaching Class 5 Math. As I made my way down, Mr Narayan intercepted and said “Someone will teach that class, you come with me!”

“Uhhh…where are we going?”

“We will go teach Grade 4 about Area, do you know Area?”

“Yes, I know Area.”

“Good, you come with me, we teach.”

This should have been my leisure period, but as it turned out, Mr Narayan would give a quick lesson on how to calculate the area of a rectangle or square, the kids would complete a sample question and “Sophia will check!” He handed over a red pen that was my cue to circulate throughout the class as eager little hands jabbed their notebooks under my nose to inspect their work, anticipating a big, red check mark. After making small, discreet circles in places where students had left out the ^2 or the units (cm/m/km), Mr Naryan produced himself at my side, swiped the pen and made an ‘x’ that took up half the page of some crushed little boy’s notebook,

“Wrong, like this!”

“Oooohkay.” I continued to make small circles.

As I would walk around, checking books and trying to explain mistakes, he would yell over everyone, and me, “Sophia! Sophia! Look! You make the next question!” When it was clear that over half the class didn’t have the first one finished and the rest were fixing the small mistakes that I’d asked them to.

“Ok, just a minute.” and then I continued to check and help the students. Perhaps I was being a bit defiant, but he was just getting under my skin. And if I was going to be using my leisure class to help him, I was going to do it my way.

Another reason why I didn’t want to rush to a new question was that there were so many sweet kids in that group, a few really handsome boys who would watch intensely and with such hope in their faces as I would check their work and then the pride that would spread across their face in a big grin was just heartwarming. I felt like I was watching my own children win a Nobel Prize. They were so sweet. Maybe I could get used to this Math thing!

Next, Kumar informed me that I would be with Class 3 again, much to my chagrin.

“How were they? Do you like to be with Class 3?”

“Well, to be honest, no. They don't understand a word I say and they were out of control the other day.”

“Yes I heard that, I punished them. They will not do that again. Do you want to teach them?”

“Well, to be honest I’m hoping I’ll have a break soon, it’s been a really busy day so far and I’m quite tired.” I couldn’t imagine saying this in real life, but where I’m volunteering and I would say being taken advantage of somewhat, and also aware that TaraNepal has two leisure periods on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. Also, I would just prefer to know the days’ schedule in advance as opposed to just being told right before that I have to teach a class.

“You don’t want to teach now?”

“Well, it’s not that, I’d just like to know when I’ll have a break.”

“During the break period, it is next.”

“You mean lunch time? When everyone has lunch?” Sigh.

I decided to distract Grade 3 from their madness with electronics and after discussing holidays again (sticking with the Christmas theme) I showed them part of the movie, Elf. They were captivated, if not a bit confused. I had them gather on the floor and put the computer up on a desk. They practically sat on the keyboard. the movie played for about 20 minutes and their grubby little faces continuously turned and looked back at mine for? Guidance? Do we laugh now? Are we still supposed to be watching this? Is the baby elf her? After showing them the mother-father Santa photo, I’m pretty sure they think the movie Elf is the story of my life. Ah well, close enough. By the time the class ended all their sweaty bodies together in such a tight space made the room smell like a barn. I don't know if it’s the secretion of animal waste into the water, the type of soap they use to wash the clothes which must be made from some animal product, the close proximity of cows, goats and chickens to everyone’s home or just the air, but there is a definite ‘barn/farm-animal smell’ to everyone and everything. I am even smelling it on myself. My sweat smells faintly of cows milk and my clothes, well, like a barn. Not necessarily in a stinky, bad way, but when you’ve got 35-45 kids crammed into a small classroom at the peak of the hottest part of the day with no breeze and no electricity to move the fans and at least disperse the barn-smell molecules, it does not smell good.

I had to teach Class 8 again before lunch, this time it was Science. They were supposed to be learning about Heat which was fortunately a topic I had just taught to the 7/8 Class in Boracay last year. I improvised a lesson on What Heat is, where it comes from, how we measure it and remembering my Winter in Canada photos on my computer, I plugged my laptop in to charge next door as I had them make a list of ways people and animals keep warm in cold climates.

“This’ll get ‘em.” I thought as I prepared to show them the photos of the house under 20 feet of snow. They were stunned to say the least. Boys in the back who I was actually considering checking the pulse of, we jumping on top of each other to see the pictures of my sliding down the roof of the house with Maggie and Abbey. With the time remaining, I decided to give ‘ol Bill Nye a go, as it just so happened I had the episode on “Heat.” I put the computer on a little chair at the front of the room and the kids crowded around to watch and strain to hear the video. Bill’s comedic mannerisms and interesting videos succeed in delighting audiences around the world; it’s official. I had to shut things down and tell them to go get lunch a few minutes after the bell when they were still engrossed in the video. “If I am back tomorrow, we can watch!” I assured them.

On the way back to the staff room, I was surrounded by a gang of about 20 kids from all grade levels. They were testing the waters and asking random questions when it was the boys from Class 7 who had the cajones to inquire, “Ms, are you married?” I stopped walking, turned to face them and with the most serious face I could manage responded, “Yes. I have 10 husbands.” They were floored. It is certainly not custom here in Nepal, for a woman to have boyfriend, let alone 10 husbands. I left them with that little treat as I retreated upstairs.

I’d brought a couple small bananas and an apple for my lunch and honestly wasn’t even really hungry after only recently not feeling like I was going to explode from breakfast. The staff orders lunch from the small restaurant, which is one of the 5 shops at the crossroads outside the school. They offered me a small plate of noodles with vegetables, which I didn’t really want, but accepted for solidarity reasons. It was 20 Rs (.20$) for the lunch and I offered it to the gentleman who served up my plate.