Still Alive!

Marielle and I are trooping along into our second month despite the ever-increasing threat of getting mauled by wild animals (the mountain monkeys encroach more and more on Ritz and Smoky the highly effective guard puppies' space every day, a territory-deprived wild leopard has taken to eating unsuspecting pet labradors in the neighborhood, and gangs of wild elephants in the mountains just past our house have taken to a game called "stomp the humans") Something that struck me was that the families who have lost their pets to the leopard have not condemned him, but rather diverted the negative attention to humanity at large for taking so much from nature that an animal has no choice but to endanger his life and potentially trap himself forever in a human family's compound just to get his food.

If the leopard eats me, I would ask that we put our retaliatory efforts into finding a nice, safe place (preferably full of not-humans) for him to live.

I've also been struck with the effects of different teaching styles on children. Mama Oumou and Fatou, my host sisters in Saint-Louis, Senegal, learned through dictation and memorization. Virtually every male and most females in Saint-Louis were supposed to memorize the Coran before they finished their schooling, regardless of whether or not they actually knew Arabic and therefore understood the sounds and symbols they had committed to memory. One of my friends in Saint-Louis, a volunteer teacher, was surprised when, after having a coughing fit as she taught her students the alphabet, the students coughed every time they recited the alphabet for her. Similarly, when Marielle and I asked the third and fourth graders to draw their families and homes for a class this morning, we wound up with twenty perfect copies of the example we had drawn on the board.

Our students' creative energies tend to come out in different ways, like when the teachers release all the children into the courtyard for lunch and then go barricade themselves in the lounge. Marielle and I have found that this is a particularly good time to do tae kwon do, dance, or the newest game, "let's go skipping" (I skip around and students follow me. I don't know why this is so popular, but it is.) A new academic school year started last week, and we're still getting used to the new names and faces. I miss the former eighth graders, but it's fun to have a new playgroup class that's really, really tiny.

Marielle and I were invited to attend the wedding of one of the school's teachers on Saturday evening. It was a somewhat sad event for many of the people involved, as this meant that the bride would be leaving the school to move in with her husband in Delhi. Nevertheless, the DJ played party music until the outrageous hour of 10 p.m., unlimited ice cream was served to all, and a bunch of the men played a game where they covered their foreheads with one hand and slapped each other with the other. Like the aforementioned skipping, this was very popular. Our amaji/host grandmother defended us protectively against any potential suitors she deemed unworthy (aka all of them), we collectively signed about 30 autographs, people stared and stared at the two white, blonde, blue-eyed girls in formal Indian dress, and we were asked to leave before the bride came out so that she would get at least some attention.

On Sunday, we went to meet with some friends that Marielle had made at the ashram. A good part of our friendship is that we have different approaches to the same experience; when we were at the ashram, I took all the yoga and meditation classes I could while Marielle preferred to stay in the cafeteria and talk to international yoga enthusiasts and spiritual guides over buckets of chai. The friends in question live on a property called Vipasana House, which welcomes adolescents and young adults from all over the world who are seeking yogic healing for mental and spiritual illnesses. The complex itself is sprawling and half-wild in a once-tamed sort of way, and we spent a good part of the day hanging out, helping cook, and getting free massages. We left with a cartload of books and an invitation to come back any time we wanted, which we certainly shall (and not just because they have working wifi, wonder of wonders).

Tomorrow evening amaji is taking us back to the ashram for a couple days. We have decided that we are sort of like her personal pet monkeys, in that we do weird things (put peanut butter on everything before eating it), stupid things (accidentally barge into Swami Veda, Disciple of the Guru of the Himalayas' private quarters within the first half hour of our first trip to the ashram), annoying things ("Oh, you were sleeping? We hope you didn't mind our opera practice"), and yet she still adores us so much that she must bring us with her everywhere she goes. Or that is how I'm choosing to interpret the situation.

So yes, we are doing well in that we are well-fed and intact, beloved by many children and scorned suitors alike, and still allowed in amaji's house. For now.