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The little creature at the top of my hammock didn’t look big enough to bite me, but when it came running down the hammock toward me, I didn’t stop to consider, but jumped off with a yelp, hitting my coffee in the process and spilling it over my Bible. It seemed a little confused and lost, so I went into the house and hunted up a bag and chased it into the bag. I then stuck it into a snack container and poked holes into the top for air. I will take it to school and show it to my 1st graders and teach them “G is for gecko.” There is some controversy as to what a Dtukae is called in English. Most Americans do not call it a gecko, reserving that name for the smaller, more harmless “jing-jok” that are so much fun to flick off window screens, but a few of my Thai friends insist that those are not called gecko in English, but that Dtukaes are called geckos. Google translate says Dtukaes are geckoes. In the little bit of research I have done, it looks like Dtukaes are generally known as Tokay geckoes and the jing-joks are other kinds of geckoes. I prefer to call Dtukaes geckoes purely because Dtukaes are more memorable than jing-joks and when you are teaching “g is for gecko” to first graders you need memorable ideas.
Whatever it should officially be called, I am happy with my find and hope it will live long enough to show to my first and second graders. I keep on being amazed at the way these children learn. Because their level of English is still so low, they don’t have much previous knowledge to build on. This is a little frustrating at times because you have to start from the bottom up. However, it can also be hugely rewarding because their minds are also very receptive to new words and they are excited about learning. One of my favorite things is to hear them tossing English words around as they leave the room. I also find it fascinating to be involved in every step of their learning and have a front seat in observing their journey of language. Not only are they starting to be able to use the words I have taught them, but they are no longer afraid to call out a good morning to me as they meet me outside the classroom. One thing I find quite hilarious is how they love to boss each other around in the classroom. The older classes can be a bit rowdy at times, but usually all I have to do is say “Shh” or “be quiet” in English to one student, and he or she will turn around and yell at the others, “Be quiet!!” in English. Or “Calm down!!” Somehow when you are bossing others, it is easier to say it in English. And yelling it is always better. In the first grade class, usually the general roar subsides if I say “be quiet” except for one of two students who are so busy telling others to be quiet that they forget that the order extends to them as well.
Anugun, or Koko, is one of my 5th grade students who I thought at first would be one of my more difficult ones. He is rowdy, but he has surprised me with his interest to learn and the way he remembers sentences. The other day he blessed my heart when after class he came back to his desk to pick something up and saw me sitting there studying some Karen words. He then came over and helped me with some questions I had about the Karen dialect spoken here. When I taught occupations to them last week, I asked each one what they wanted to be when they grow up. He then asked me what I wanted to be when I grow up. I take that as a compliment.
Sometimes when I open up Google maps and see my location where that bold dark line marks the border of Myanmar three kilometers away, and then trace the map 4 hours down to Mae Sariang to the closest phone signal, I give a little inward gasp. A gasp not unlike the gasps I involuntarily emit when the shock of the cold water hits me as I shower in the evening. Or the little gasp that Cha, one of my students gives when I call on her to speak English in class. For the most part, I have adjusted to living here. One day runs into another. Life seems normal. In the morning I wake up before 6 and light the fire. I make my coffee, sometimes sitting beside the fire to warm my feet in the chilly morning as I journal and read my Bible. The children are supposed to be at school at 7:30, and assembly starts at 8. My first class is usually at 8:40, with three class periods before noon and two in the afternoon. The day is usually over before I realize it. And yet, the gasp sometimes still escapes me… the tingling shock that still lingers from the realization that I am not in my home culture, or my adopted Chiang Mai culture. Like this morning as I walked to church and met 2 enormous buffalo blocking the road. Or when you find out that one of your first grader’s family has a buffalo. Or in the morning as I squat by the fire to light the kindling.
This week was a mix of ups and downs. At the beginning of the week, I found myself beset entirely with cravings for dairy products and chocolatey cookies, cakes and breads. I was rationing my stash of granola bars and also realizing they just answer the cravings I was having. Finally, I remembered that at a store in the village, I had seen some off-brand oreos. I set off to find some, and they were perfect. The wafer satisfied my cookie hunger, the frosting helped with the desire for something milky and sweet (is the frosting actually milky? I doubt it, but my brain is happy with it), and the wafer also satisfied my chocolate urges. I was getting tired of black coffee and wishing for some milk, or for something sweet to offset the bitterness. Oreos worked perfectly. For 5 baht, I can eat a packet of 6. The amount of Oreos I have eaten in the week that has passed is beyond ridiculous. I have decided that I need to take turns going to the different stores in the neighborhood when I buy them so that no one can discover how many Oreos the farang teacher consumes, because I am sure if anyone would realize the truth, it would spread like wildfire.
Because, it seems, everything that I do here is of interest to everyone else. One of the village teachers speculated to another village teacher that the large amount of water I consume (I carry a water bottle with me wherever I go) probably makes me hungry. I have a feeling she was wondering why I eat so much. I feel like I am a distraction in an otherwise very quiet village and I give them something to discuss over their suppers. I keep on being surprised at the stories about me that eventually come floating to me. “Kru Dtaum says that you read your Bible every morning.” “So-and-so said that you can speak Karen as well.” (the few words I can speak do not constitute speaking Karen.) It seemed from comments from my students and others that the entire village knew I had accompanied some of the villagers into a more remote area to hunt for tadpoles and gather greens.
This week the water stopped running. It does so in the dry season. Water then has to be brought in from the storage tanks. It randomly starts up again every now and then, and then we fill up everything possible. Because of this, I had to wash my clothes in the tubs in front of the men’s showerhouse since they had more water there than we had in our house. I washed my clothes on lunch break and dumped the water out in front of the showerhouse. When I went to hang up my clothes, I found that I had washed only one sock from my pair of gray socks. This is not unusual since I am a little scatterbrained when it comes from doing laundry. It wasn’t until later that evening when Kru Dtaum went to the showerhouse and shouted out, “Hey whose socks are these?” There were three socks that I had thrown out with the washwater lying between the showerhouse and the office. I was just grateful that it was only socks and not more embarrassing items.
My fire lighting skills are getting better. I struck some difficult times several evenings when I was trying to light it and it simply would not light. I keep on getting tips that help me, but there are times, very frustrating times when I am lighting the fire and someone else comes to help me light the fire. This help is usually to say, “Oh, it’s going,” and pile on some wood. And then 1 minute later my precious fire is smoking itself to an untimely death. I want to say, “If it were your fire, then yes, it would be ok and you would know when the lit kindling is ready for bigger sticks. But this is MY fire and I happen to realize, even though I am a newby at this, that it is NOT ready for bigger sticks. So please keep your sticks off my baby fire!” But I do not say this. Instead, I grab a sliver of pine and light it again.
I have gone to the Catholic services twice now since I have come. Perhaps I should not be fraternizing with Catholics, but there is no Protestant church here. Even those who are Catholic seem to be very nominally Catholic. However, I enjoy sitting and listening to the hymns and getting some language practice. It also gives me a chance to get to know the villagers as well as see some of my students outside of school. In spite of this, I am very hungry for a good service in Thai or English that I can understand, as well as fellowship with people who are serious about their relationship with Christ.
My Acer laptop gave me some gasps this week as well, refusing to turn on when I needed it. After an anxious night and nightmares of great magnitude about losing all my data and teaching computerless for weeks while my laptop is sent to Chiang Mai to be fixed, I did find the magic key to turn it back on, which was to drain the battery until it totally died and then start it up again. Praise the Lord!
Captain Joe, (or Pugong Joe as you would say in Thai), one of the policemen at the station that is right beside the school, comes over for supper at the teacher’s house most evenings. I keep on being surprised at how people here constantly drop in on each other. When Pugong Joe is not sitting on the porch with another of the teachers and serenading us with Thai folk songs on his guitar, he is asking me questions that usually start with, “I saw in a movie once….” He dreams of traveling and going to far away places and watches movies to do so vicariously. He loves asking questions about all sorts of things, and is not hesitant to ask bold questions about Christianity, unlike many Thai people.
We teach from Monday to Saturdays, and then crash on Sundays. This is the schedule for schools in what the government calls พื้นที่พิเศษ “Special Areas,” meaning it is an area far away or hard to reach. After three or four weeks of a schedule like this, the school closes for a week or even more to give the teachers a chance to go home to their families. This means on this Friday we head down to Mae Sariang for over 7 days. I am looking forward to a break and some time by myself.
I keep on thinking that when I blog, I should choose one subject and stick to it, and then somehow wring out some kind of wise lesson or conclusion about the happening. Perhaps someday I will write something sage and wise to connect with my life here. But for now, I write because these stories need to be written in my own heart, for my own memory.
*once I reach Mae Sariang and have some good wifi connection, I will upload some pictures.
** this post was mostly written on Sunday but I was unable to post it until today because of the internet. Or the lack thereof.
There are a number of things in my mind that I keep on thinking would be fun to write about. However, they don’t really fit into one logical theme, so here are some random snapshots of life in the past month or so.
When the shadow won’t leave
When the battle won’t stop
And every breathe that you breathe
Takes all that you’ve got
When you wonder if you’re always
Gonna feel this way
Hear the Lord of heaven say…
Ch. I will hold you when you’re breaking
Like a father and a friend
And I will carry you through darkness
Till we see the sun again
So rest your head and cry your tears
Know that I am with you here
When you can’t lift that weight
Believe me when I say…
I will
I know you’re feeling overwhelmed
Before the day even begins
But I can see beyond the now
This is not how your story ends
And when you’re at your weakest
Oh I’ve never been more strong
So let me be the one you’re leaning on…
Just recently I have been reminded of the importance of community. I am by nature not someone who gravitates toward community, but I have learned and am learning how important it is to surround yourself with trustworthy people. These ladies, the Baanies, have taught me so much. Where I fail, they make up for it. My weaknesses are their strengths, my strengths are their weaknesses. Alone we could never do what we do now. They have taught me about friendship, about sharing, about beauty, about strength, about trust. Close to a year ago I blogged a poem about my “baanies.” Click here to read it. Now it’s close to a year later and with several of them leaving, I find myself a bit nostalgic. I don’t post these poems because I think they are masterpieces in the realm of poetry– they’re not. But even if the rhythm and rhyming is stilted and simple, it embodies some of what these ladies bring to life here in Chiang Mai, Thailand.
Oh, we live in house that leaks when it rains
And spiders have tea in the cracks
But we are the Baanies so we don’t mind
Cause we’ve got each other’s backs
Judi went home, she said, “just because”
But we all really know why
There’s a guy named Mike she thinks she likes
Even though she’s back in Chiang Mai;
This Mike, we think, may be ok
But we’re keeping our eyes trained tight:
He’d better be good, and do as he should
Or we will all put him to flight.
Kim is well and busy as ever
And next week she is saying goodbye
To the tropics of Thailand for the snows of the North
For the handshake instead of the wai;
We’ll miss her heaps and all of her songs
And her passion and kindness as well,
But she’ll shine her light wherever she is
That we can surely foretell.
Crystal keeps life in this house refreshing
When naps in the bathroom she takes,
She likes to push others into the pool
And finds in her bike long skinny snakes;
She’s got a heart that is made of gold
(So her students would gladly say)
Coffee makes her happy (and of course us too)
She is just fun to be with all day.
Oh, we live in house that leaks when it rains
And spiders have tea in the cracks,
But we are the Baanies so we don’t mind
Cause we’ve got each other’s backs.
Melissa is as sweet and understanding as ever
And just in the weeks that passed
She bravely called a man to come kill our rats
(Even though her heart beat fast)
Her Thai is better than ever before
But she is going home in May
This makes us wonder who will clean the kitchen
And makes us sadder than we can say.
Nancy has learned how to speak Thai
And she’s really good at latte art
We all like to listen when she laughs
And hers is a kind, sensitive heart
She drives a funny, yellow Fino
A lot like a bumblebee, I’d say
She zips around corners and weaves through traffic
While we hold on tight and— pray.
Oh, we live in house that leaks when it rains
And spiders have tea in the cracks
But we are the Baanies so we don’t mind
Cause we’ve got each other’s backs.
Brit will be an aunt before too long
We’re all happy for her sake
She doesn’t lose her phone as much anymore
And you should see the fires she makes
She’s smart and selfless and loves little kids
And really, she’s almost Thai,
And when we think of her leaving for home
The only thing we want to do — is cry.
Lori’s still here and her hair is even grayer
And she’s slipped down her stairs a few times
She’s got itchy feet and she dreams of the mountains
And she still makes weird little rhymes
She’ll still be in school for another two years
And then watch out, she’ll be free
To travel away, to teach or to train,
Or be whatever God calls her to be.
Oh, we live in house that leaks when it rains
And spiders have tea in the cracks
But we are the Baanies so we don’t mind
Cause we’ve got each other’s backs
To the fine bunch of ladies that I do life with…. I live in a house with six other girls, all of who are volunteers at Wisdom Tree Home, where I used to work. This is a glimpse of what life looks like in our creaky old house.
Oh, we live in a house of seven girls
And bonny lassies are we
Seven girls and a dog (who cries when we leave)
All footloose and fancy-free
Where we’re from…
Lori and Crystal speak Dutch with each other
But Lori speaks it more to the dog
Nancy speaks Platt Dietsch when she talks with her mom
And leaves the rest in a fog
Kim hails from Canada, and so does Melissa
And Brit is a Buckeye at heart
She tries to speak Dutch but Thai comes out
Her brain can’t keep them apart.
Judi comes from where it’s cold all the time
And we like the way she says “sawlt”
We mimic the Canadians and the Thais and each other
And don’t always speak as we ought.
On Saturdays…
Brit goes to the market
And Judi goes to the mall
Where she walks and she looks
And buys nothing at all
Melissa goes to a coffee shop
Kim goes out with a friend
Crystal goes to the pool, and Lori,
Lori does homework till her hair stands on end.
Oh, we live in a house of seven girls
And bonny lassies are we
Seven girls and a dog (who cries when we leave)
All footloose and fancy-free
In the bathroom…
When Lori’s in the shower, she studies Chinese
And Brit plays songs in Thai
But Kim and Nancy play ukulele on the floor
By the tub where the echo rings high.
Judi sings songs like “Country Roads”
And also sings the song about the rose
But the dog outside outsings us all
When he misses his friends and howls out his woes
What we’re like…
Judi likes to kill things like mosquitos and snakes
But spiders make Brit turn white with fear
She’ll stand on her bed and shiver and shake
Till someone comes to smash it. Oh dear, oh dear!
Lori’s in a rush and can’t find her keys
Where Kim left her laptop is quite unknown
Brit wants to take a picture to send to her dad
But now she can’t do it cause she can’t find her phone
At a coffee shop…
Brit likes to journal and Nancy watercolors
And Kim always makes a new friend
Crystal studies Thai and Melissa writes an update,
And Lori does homework till her hair stands on end.
Kim swigs coffee, all black, by the pot
But Judi likes hers with cream
Brit walks the line between coffee and tea
But Melissa drinks just water, or so it would seem.
Oh, we live in a house of seven girls
And bonny lassies are we
Seven girls and a dog (who cries when we leave)
All footloose and fancy-free
At night…
Brit and Melissa go to bed early
Where Brit dreams amazing things
Crystal hums in her sleep, and all the rest
Wait to go to bed till the dtukae** sings
Lori sleeps up top at the end of the stairs
Where the others fear she’ll fall out of bed
Kim sits on her balcony where she sings all night
And Crystal smacks roaches in her room till they’re dead
In the future….
Melissa will get married and have 8 Chinese boys
That keep her on her toes and all look alike
Brit will adopt kids, and kids, and kids
Half of which will be two-year old tykes
And Kim will lead worship in a Chinese town
With her husband who’s 6 foot 4
While Judi sips coffee at her own little shop
On the edge of the Grecian shore
Nancy will marry and move to the States
Where she’ll make fajitas like a very fine wife
Crystal will move to Africa’s horn
Where she’ll look after orphans all of her life
While Lori rides her horse from village to village
As she teaches in the mountains of Pai
But for now we live in this shaky old house
Together and happy, here in Chiang Mai.
Oh, we live in a house of seven girls
And bonny lassies are we
Seven girls and a dog (who cries when we leave)
All footloose and fancy-free
* “Baanies” is a play on words that comes from the Thai word “baan,” which means “home.” Instead of saying “homies” when referring to our housemates, we call ourselves the “baanies,” which is another play on words in the English language, since it sounds like “bonnie.”
** a dtukae is a large lizard like creature that likes goes “Dtu! Gaa! Dtu! Gaa!” at night.
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