If my life could be summarized by a movie title, it would be “Snakes en Eau Pleine.” This franglais very roughly translates to “Snakes in high/full water.” Given my druthers, I would be played by Lindsey Lohan (pre-botox), and Samuel L. Jackson would be played by our Peace Corps training manager, Ousmane.
Now, to assuage your fears, there has been no Noah’s Ark-proportioned flood of serpents coursing through Ditinn, nor is it raining cats and dogs and boa constrictors (rainy season is over, silly). But I did recently take a trip out to the waterfall with a group of volunteers…
Mom : earmuffs/eyemuffs, please.
We arrived at the scenic grotto, sweaty, sandy, sufficiently bramble-covered, and more than ready to jump into the water. I was just about to strip down to my skivvies, when I happened to glance at the water, where I saw a big black twig lazily floating near the shore. And, seemingly of its own accord, that big black twig wriggled all of a sudden. Then it squirmed a couple times in a beautiful « s » motion. By the time it lifted its head out of the water and flicked its tongue in the air, I was already half-way back up the hill (barefoot) desperately searching for a large, preferably thorny club… or bazooka... whichever I happened to come upon first.
My compatriots, being very brave and manly men, stood on the shore saying very brave and manly things like “They’re more scared of us than we are of them.”
My logical mind muttered, Pssht, yah I know that.
But in reality my reaction was more along the lines of...
Soooo, I didn’t so much as dip a toe in the water, even though the snake was long-gone. I’m still puzzled as to why it would’ve been swimming there, since the temperature must’ve been less than comfortable for a cold-blooded animal. One volunteer suggested that it was hunting frogs.
I think snakes just delight in scaring the bejeezus out of portos like me.
In other, less hair-raising news, we are now one and a half months into the school year (in principle, at least) and I have met with each class 8 times. That’s not counting my 10th graders, who I see only once per week. We’ve had a grand total of 3 classes together.
Why the low stats? First we had the delay because of elections. Then we had the feast day after the Hajj. Then yesterday and today we celebrated the beginning of the Muslim New Year. There has been much drumming and much food-eating all around. I saw my first cow slaughtering, and can now quite confidently say that I never wish to see a skinned animal ever again. Hard-core vegetarianism is looking more and more appealing every day, I tell you.
Anyhow, back to school. Classes are going smoothly with the groups of students that I taught last year. They’re very open and easy-going, and much more willing to participate with me this year. The newbies (aka my 12th graders) are either suffering from collective tongue-paralysis, or I frighten them out of their wits.
Whatever the cause, it’s like I’m staring at a herd of deer caught in headlights every Tuesday and Thursday. Maybe I’m too intimidating for my own good?
If you have any suggestions on breaking the ice, please let me know. I’ve been trying my darnedest to get them to ease up a little.
Tomorrow I’m biking up the mountain to go to a “teacher training” informational meeting. There’s a volunteer who has extended for a third year so that she can work with the Department of Education in Dalaba in order to establish a professional development program for teachers in our prefecture, and she's recruiting help from other volunteers. It’s exciting stuff!
Ta-ta-for-now!
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