shoes caked with mud + walking down a poorly made set of cement steps + stream of water flowing down the steps = michael eating it
eating it -> muddy butt -> village kids having a good laugh
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Monday, June 22, 2009
Mango Says Goodbye Sometimes
Among my favorite books is The House on Mango Street by Sandra Cisneros. I have a lot of identity issues, having immigrated to the US when I was seven and being ambiguously ethnic in appearance, having traversed the range of social classes, having moved at least 20 times in my lifetime...Being 20-something and American. Anyway, I think The House on Mango Street appeals to me because that little girls speaks to the same experience. So I get her, and even though she's not real, I feel like she gets me--or rather she would if she were a real person.
The last chapter in the book is called "Mango Says Goodbye Sometimes" and the little girl is coming of age and moving away from Mango Street to fulfill all her ambitions. And even though she hated being poor and Mexican in the ghettos of Chicago, she realizes that sometimes you have to go away to come back to help those who don't.
When I moved to Iowa, I thought about that a lot. Going away to come back. Vineland, New Jersey is not a place I ever really want to "come back" to. Sure, come see family and friends, come see the ocean, but not come back. And when I left Iowa, I told the people at my club, "I want this to be the place I am sent from." Not that I would "come back" to Ames and settle down, but that I would come back and check in and hang out. But it's not the same like Mango, where you come back to help those who can't (don't) leave.
And now, I'm 6 days from leaving the apartment on the sixth floor with the tilted steps and no running water 13 of 24 hours a day. And I'm thinking about Mango saying goodbye sometimes. I'm certainly not from here the way I am from Jersey or Iowa, but I think about my sad little students asking, "Why do foreign teachers always leave after one or two years?"
In all honesty, I probably will not come back to this job at this school in this city. Actually, if I can keep from it, I think I'd be a happier person (teaching English is not fun for me)... But those sad little faces that don't understand break my heart.
Mango says goodbye sometimes.
[I said goodbye to some good friends this morning. But I'll be seeing them stateside.]
The last chapter in the book is called "Mango Says Goodbye Sometimes" and the little girl is coming of age and moving away from Mango Street to fulfill all her ambitions. And even though she hated being poor and Mexican in the ghettos of Chicago, she realizes that sometimes you have to go away to come back to help those who don't.
When I moved to Iowa, I thought about that a lot. Going away to come back. Vineland, New Jersey is not a place I ever really want to "come back" to. Sure, come see family and friends, come see the ocean, but not come back. And when I left Iowa, I told the people at my club, "I want this to be the place I am sent from." Not that I would "come back" to Ames and settle down, but that I would come back and check in and hang out. But it's not the same like Mango, where you come back to help those who can't (don't) leave.
And now, I'm 6 days from leaving the apartment on the sixth floor with the tilted steps and no running water 13 of 24 hours a day. And I'm thinking about Mango saying goodbye sometimes. I'm certainly not from here the way I am from Jersey or Iowa, but I think about my sad little students asking, "Why do foreign teachers always leave after one or two years?"
In all honesty, I probably will not come back to this job at this school in this city. Actually, if I can keep from it, I think I'd be a happier person (teaching English is not fun for me)... But those sad little faces that don't understand break my heart.
Mango says goodbye sometimes.
[I said goodbye to some good friends this morning. But I'll be seeing them stateside.]
Monday, June 15, 2009
The Central China Furnace
They call this city the Chicago of China, because of it's geographic location, but there is little else to compare to the Windy City. I've never been to Chicago in the summer, but I have a feeling its citizens don't experience this kind of draining, humid heat.
I woke up three times last night because I was too hot. I woke up two other times because I hate sleeping with the air conditioner on. So about every hour or so, I'd wake up to either turn on or turn off the AC.
They say the reason for the heat is the large number of lakes surrounded in the Yangtze river valley, which is surrounded by large mountain ranges. The water in the lakes gets hot, and the heat has no where to go except the air. And as the summer days go by, the heat and the humidity rise until locals can't bear wearing clothes anymore. Men roll up their shirts to expose their bellies and women wear mesh night gowns out to do their vegetable shopping.
I have a theory (one I am sure my anthro professors from college would NOT support, given it is completely based on speculation) is that the culture here is largely affected by the heat. I can feel voices getting louder, people getting impatient, workers getting careless as the temperature rises. Like the humours in the bodies of the locals begin to boil and the constraints of society imposed by the cheerfully written propaganda banners become irrelevant. I can see it in their eyes: "I'm hot and I will take this bus and I don't care if anyone else needs to get on." I don't blame them, I get the same way. I've noticed that I've started picking fights more and more with folk who don't move to the back of the bus after boarding or who stare at foreigners in restaurants.
My apartment doesn't have running water during most of the day (only available from 6a-9a, 12p-2p, and 5p-11p), so my water usage schedule has been deeply affected over the last year. I came home yesterday at about 4 to take a shower before meeting a friend at 5. I'd spent most of the day at Starbucks working on grades, but between the walk to Starbucks that morning, the walk to lunch to get lunch at a small restaurant, the walk back to Starbucks, and the walk home from Starbucks, I'd managed to sweat through my jean cut-offs and my tank top, completely soaking the back and straps of my backpack. Being so thoroughly drenched and convinced that I also thoroughly stank, I came home to take that shower. Except it wasn't five yet, so my water supply was markedly low. But I insisted, and I took a shower in a small stream of ice cold water. And it was awesome. I have never before been so hot that taking an ice cold shower sounded like good idea. But as my body cooled, I began to feel a little less like I was a small, shriveling bean sprout and a little more like a real human being with a will and capacity to accomplish things.
I'm not quite sure how I survived the summer heat last year. I am looking forward to the Jersey shore and the cool Atlantic breeze.
I woke up three times last night because I was too hot. I woke up two other times because I hate sleeping with the air conditioner on. So about every hour or so, I'd wake up to either turn on or turn off the AC.
They say the reason for the heat is the large number of lakes surrounded in the Yangtze river valley, which is surrounded by large mountain ranges. The water in the lakes gets hot, and the heat has no where to go except the air. And as the summer days go by, the heat and the humidity rise until locals can't bear wearing clothes anymore. Men roll up their shirts to expose their bellies and women wear mesh night gowns out to do their vegetable shopping.
I have a theory (one I am sure my anthro professors from college would NOT support, given it is completely based on speculation) is that the culture here is largely affected by the heat. I can feel voices getting louder, people getting impatient, workers getting careless as the temperature rises. Like the humours in the bodies of the locals begin to boil and the constraints of society imposed by the cheerfully written propaganda banners become irrelevant. I can see it in their eyes: "I'm hot and I will take this bus and I don't care if anyone else needs to get on." I don't blame them, I get the same way. I've noticed that I've started picking fights more and more with folk who don't move to the back of the bus after boarding or who stare at foreigners in restaurants.
My apartment doesn't have running water during most of the day (only available from 6a-9a, 12p-2p, and 5p-11p), so my water usage schedule has been deeply affected over the last year. I came home yesterday at about 4 to take a shower before meeting a friend at 5. I'd spent most of the day at Starbucks working on grades, but between the walk to Starbucks that morning, the walk to lunch to get lunch at a small restaurant, the walk back to Starbucks, and the walk home from Starbucks, I'd managed to sweat through my jean cut-offs and my tank top, completely soaking the back and straps of my backpack. Being so thoroughly drenched and convinced that I also thoroughly stank, I came home to take that shower. Except it wasn't five yet, so my water supply was markedly low. But I insisted, and I took a shower in a small stream of ice cold water. And it was awesome. I have never before been so hot that taking an ice cold shower sounded like good idea. But as my body cooled, I began to feel a little less like I was a small, shriveling bean sprout and a little more like a real human being with a will and capacity to accomplish things.
I'm not quite sure how I survived the summer heat last year. I am looking forward to the Jersey shore and the cool Atlantic breeze.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Does money talk? Part II
"A bribe is a charm to the one who gives it; wherever he turns, he succeeds." Proverbs 17:8
My school has two campuses. They are both on the southeast side of town, but the "old" campus is a ten minute walk from the longest pedestrian shopping street in the world (it's really just a huge mall), while the new campus is on a broken down country road, surrounded by factories and clay houses. I live on the old campus, but teach on the new campus so I have to take the commuter bus (like the orange line at ISU!) to and from the new campus 20 minutes each way.
It used to be that the bus turned south from the old campus and followed one of the major avenues until we reached the highway. At the highway, he'd turn east, ride the highway for about 5 minutes (like getting on HWY 30 in Ames) and get off at the road for our school, which was at an intersection with the highway. (No clover leaf on-ramps. It's a normal intersection; you just go for it.) But about two weeks ago, the road was closed. (I have a fun city-bus story involving that closed road, and if you want to hear it I'll tell it, but not today--the set up for this post is already taking too long...)
So now, the bus has to take one of those major avenues south of the highway and down the road a ways, the circle back around through what seem to me driveways for those big companies/factories that are out there, adding ten minutes to the drive.
On the way to class a couple days ago, I was reading my NT in English and the woman sitting next to me leaned over and said, "Excuse me, are you a foreign English teacher?"
"Yes."
"Oh. When you first got on the bus, I wasn't sure, but then I saw you were reading the book, and I thought, 'maybe'."
We talked a while about English major students versus non-major students and the difficulties in teaching large numbers of engineering students about adjectival word order. And then we came to that intersection between the highway and the avenue we were heading south on. And I asked, "Why is the road closed, do you know?"
She chuckled a bit and said, "Some people guess--and it's just a guess--that the locals that live on that street couldn't pay enough money to the government so they failed to keep it open. The reason we were all told is that it's not safe for the city road to intersect the highway. But I am sure it has something to do with money."
So yeah. Instead of a 20 minute commute to my new campus, I have a 30 minute commute because there are large piles of dirt and a guard rail at the intersection directly leading to my school. All because money (bribes) talks (bring success).
[For those of you who want to know what happened to that stand up stand talk to a stranger activity I did with my students, they complained the whole time that it was embarrassing and uncomfortable and that I didn't give them enough time. And when we did it again the next week, one girl hid in the curtains instead of participate in the activity. I found her and she was mortified to get caught. I told her, "You are more embarrassed now than you would have been if you had just done the activity." She agreed.]
My school has two campuses. They are both on the southeast side of town, but the "old" campus is a ten minute walk from the longest pedestrian shopping street in the world (it's really just a huge mall), while the new campus is on a broken down country road, surrounded by factories and clay houses. I live on the old campus, but teach on the new campus so I have to take the commuter bus (like the orange line at ISU!) to and from the new campus 20 minutes each way.
It used to be that the bus turned south from the old campus and followed one of the major avenues until we reached the highway. At the highway, he'd turn east, ride the highway for about 5 minutes (like getting on HWY 30 in Ames) and get off at the road for our school, which was at an intersection with the highway. (No clover leaf on-ramps. It's a normal intersection; you just go for it.) But about two weeks ago, the road was closed. (I have a fun city-bus story involving that closed road, and if you want to hear it I'll tell it, but not today--the set up for this post is already taking too long...)
So now, the bus has to take one of those major avenues south of the highway and down the road a ways, the circle back around through what seem to me driveways for those big companies/factories that are out there, adding ten minutes to the drive.
On the way to class a couple days ago, I was reading my NT in English and the woman sitting next to me leaned over and said, "Excuse me, are you a foreign English teacher?"
"Yes."
"Oh. When you first got on the bus, I wasn't sure, but then I saw you were reading the book, and I thought, 'maybe'."
We talked a while about English major students versus non-major students and the difficulties in teaching large numbers of engineering students about adjectival word order. And then we came to that intersection between the highway and the avenue we were heading south on. And I asked, "Why is the road closed, do you know?"
She chuckled a bit and said, "Some people guess--and it's just a guess--that the locals that live on that street couldn't pay enough money to the government so they failed to keep it open. The reason we were all told is that it's not safe for the city road to intersect the highway. But I am sure it has something to do with money."
So yeah. Instead of a 20 minute commute to my new campus, I have a 30 minute commute because there are large piles of dirt and a guard rail at the intersection directly leading to my school. All because money (bribes) talks (bring success).
[For those of you who want to know what happened to that stand up stand talk to a stranger activity I did with my students, they complained the whole time that it was embarrassing and uncomfortable and that I didn't give them enough time. And when we did it again the next week, one girl hid in the curtains instead of participate in the activity. I found her and she was mortified to get caught. I told her, "You are more embarrassed now than you would have been if you had just done the activity." She agreed.]
Friday, June 5, 2009
mewithoutYou
On my first day here in this country, my roommate for the next year and a half and who I had just met the night before, gave me his ear buds (maybe it was just one so that he could listen too) to his discman and what I heard for the next few minutes was interesting. I can't say that I liked it but it was definitely interesting. What I heard that day was the song "Silencer" from the album A-->B: Life by mewithoutYou.
A few months later, my roommate (who turns out to be a huge fan of this unique group) downloaded their new album Catch for Us the Foxes. Songs like "January 1979", "My Exit, Unfair", "Four Word Letter Pt. 2", and "Torches Together" had me hooked. In no time I was in love with the whole album and a fan of mewithoutYou.
I loved how the lyrics were beautifully poetic and brutally honest. I loved how the music was artistically creative. Maybe there are people that, when they give mewithoutYou a listen, all they hear is hard music and shouting. But when I listen to them, I hear a group of young men who are making something artistic.
In late 2006, my old roommate, who had been back in America for a year, came back for a visit and when he came he gave me the new album, Brother, Sister. I immediately loved the song "A Glass Can Only Spill What It Contains". Over time the rest of the album grew on me and some of my favorites are "Messes of Men", "C-Minor", "O, Porcupine" and "In a Sweater Poorly Knit".
I write this to say thank you to mewithoutYou for making great music.
I. Hate. Worrying.
But I do it all the time. Anxiety is something that can take a hold of me and have me feeling like I'm rolled up in a ball on top of a high wall...shaking, knowing that someone or something can easily push me off.
About two weeks ago I told Elena that I was feeling anxious about things and she encouraged me a whole lot and reminded me of some truths. Less than two days later at a Sunday meeting (something that I didn't prepare by the way) we listened to a sermon on Matthew 6:24-34 - "Don't Be Anxious".
Last week at my Sunday meeting, one of the brothers chose to sing the song "Seek Ye First".
Yesterday, June 4th, I read the Oswald Chambers My Utmost For His Highest devotional, but I didn't read the right one. I mistakenly read the July 4th one titled "One of God's Great 'Don'ts'" and the "don't" here is about fretting.
Today's devotional, "God's Assurance" is about how "my assurance is to be built upon God's assurance to me. God says, 'I will never leave you,' so that then I 'may boldly say, 'The Lord is my helper; I will not fear''" (Heb 13:5-6).
All that to say, although it seems that there's a lot to worry about, I shouldn't. Rather, I should be assured by Father's assurance that He'll never leave me nor forsake me and I should seek first His kingdom and His righteousness.
If you want to read those two devotionals, go to the link below and select July 4 and June 5 on the calendar on the left.
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