1/17/08
When it rains in New York, or Los Angeles, or Hawaii (where some readers of this blog apparently live), it is generally thought of negatively. Rain is usually gloomy, cold, and sometimes depressing. Today it rained here in Gugeegue, and I was the opposite of depressed. It poured. It rained so much that a third of our students decided for themselves that school was cancelled (“Mr., we’re made of chocolate, we’ll melt”). Rain usually is not that important to me, but today it is. We are almost 1/3 of the way through with the dry season (from what I am told) and the two huge tanks of water in my backyard (think 8 foot diameter, 7 feet tall) that provide my drinking, showering, and flushing water are full. This is very good.
Unfortunately, this rainy day of truancy coincided with our new attempt to control absences – we are experimenting with a new detention system. For all of the students who missed 2 classes without an excuse (note) on Wednesday and Thursday of this week, there will be detention tomorrow afternoon with yours truly. As of tonight, I will have 99 detainees. That is literally a third of our school. Hopefully, it will get their attention, but I’m going to have to get some more people to help out or it’s going to be “fun after school party time with mr. matt.” That would not be good.
Our veteran married American teacher gave me a thermometer the other day. She left in my house, where it sat for two days. It was stuck on 90 degrees the whole time it was in there, so I brought it back and told her it was broken. She said, “Matt, it’s not broken, it really is 90 degrees in your house.” She put it in the freezer for five minutes, took it out, and it read 28 degrees. She was right. It’s so hot in my house that I thought the thermometer was broken. The funny thing is, I’m not really hot anymore. When it rains I wear a jacket and wish I’d brought PJs. Can I ever go back? (speaking of, if you do have any suggestions for future employment when I come back, I am all ears.)
Alex just asked me to guess how old this Marshallese guy we know is. I guessed, 60, but then I guessed 45 – the truth is, it’s impossible to tell. The life expectancy is in the low 60s, and they don’t really have any semblance of health-consciousness, so you really have no idea how old people are. Alex said, “Yeah, well they’re taking me down with them. I’m in the worst shape of my life.” Alex has no kitchen and lives in Ebeye, so he eats most of his meals at the fried chicken-parts-that-aren’t-breasts-but-might-be-wings-or-drumsticks-on-a-good-day vendor in the tiny little grocery store. We signed up for a one year here, but really it’s a five year commitment. What they don’t tell you is that you lose the other four years at the end… when you’re dead.