I had a downright, honest-to-goodness, full-quality, good day today.
Well, it wasn't spectacular, but it's been a while.
I woke up at 6 AM to work out, accomplished that, did some laundry in the relatively cool morning air while talking to some neighborhood kids, made some breakfast and then headed out to the field at 8 to see if I could get some morning Ultimate going.
The kids who said they'd be there were at school. I found that out from some younger kids who came running up to me with huge smiles on their faces and were very willing to try and grab the frisbees out of my hand. In their limited Portuguese, they managed to communicate that the kids weren't playing today, and I told them to relay the message that I'd be at home if they happened to show up.
As this was going on, I was taking note of a tiny puppy scavenging around for food. It's paws dark from digging through the mud and trash for nourishment, its obliviousness to us humans pulled on my heart - but what could I do? I knew it had a slim chance of surviving on its own, not to mention the abuse it would inevitably suffer from kids and many adults alike. I let it occupy some part of me that longs to show uninhibited compassion for all living things, and left it at that. For if I wrapped my world around every animal that was in its situation, I'd have a difficult time walking along the streets, seeing children who will most likely die within a couple of years. Not that it's not difficult.
So really, you have to celebrate life and realize that a moment is so much more precious here than in countries where life is less fragile.
I did some internetting, and got ready for school so I could go early and type up a paper on the computer (!) we have. When I arrived, the head secretary was in the midst of a typical computer problem, and I quickly remedied the situation out of routine.
My first two classes went off without a hitch, rattling off the Portuguese with surprising ease for a Monday. My mood was vastly improved and I have been actively relaxing through meditation and focusing on the task at hand without being intense about it.
My hardest transition, going from the youngest turma to the oldest (at about twice the youngest's age), was tempered by my newly-found inner peace and satisfaction that I'm actually doing something for people here.
Kids keep coming up to me with HIV/AIDS questions - good questions - and seem to understand and be satisfied with a realistic look at the truth. And they take this to heart as much as I do...which is fantastic. It almost seems like everybody was so concerned about letting everyone know AIDS exists and kills people, and making sure everyone has cheap condoms, that they forgot about teaching how it kills, where it came from, and how to use a condom. I find myself repeatedly (and enthusiastically) answering some basic questions.
So the next couple steps are to create a forum for free education about HIV/AIDS and a school club for kids who want to educate the community at large. And then integrating the Ultimate playing and theater/singing groups into this. So quite suddenly, two years is looking to be quite a short period of time.
Between my third and fourth classes today, I went to try and catch my first theater rehearsal, unsuccessfully. But in front of the club were three 4-year old kids (or so) with some large piece of plastic trash fashioned into a sled. They were using a piece of bent rebar as the handle, stuck through a hole in the plastic.
The field they were playing in had nice, high grass, perfect for summer sledding. They were calling me Tober, so I went over to remedy the situation and ask if the people who come to rehearse theater had come by yet. Judging by the reaction, Portuguese was not spoken there. So I tried some mangled Changana (you try saying "u switwisisa?" or "do you understand?") and got a few good laughs. So I grabbed the handle of their sled and told them all to get on. We went for a couple rides, they learned my name, and I headed back to school.
I arrived in my final turma to a very tired group of kids. It was tough to get them to respond to the simplest of questions, but my strongest participants were girls. One of the girls who loves to participate and does so shamelessly but respectfully, came in 1/2 way through class, complaining rightfully of illness and grabbed her things to go home. It's obvious here when a kid is sick, and it's usually pretty serious.
It occurred to me that this was the turma that lost the kid to a knifing, and as I looked around I saw a wholly compassionate group, a few with black bands pinned to their uniforms (which means they lost a relative within the last year), and more with a depth to their gazes that revealed a reverence for education, however difficult they found it to obtain.
Sure, there are kids who don't pay attention and don't care in every class, but this one was different in the sheer amount of kids who did care. The 5-minute break in between classes was completely occupied with questions from the HIV/AIDS discussion. These questions ran into the time for the next class, with the same group, but I had time to spare.
As my lesson was finished, there was a crowd around my desk of kids curious about the homework I assigned - a different group. I explained it to their satisfaction, and they seemed to really grasp the underlying concepts, which is so hard to do here, given the raw information they're expected to learn. And these were kids I hadn't seen in between the two lessons. After they left, I sat down at the desk, did a little paperwork, and smiled.
A plain old good day.
Peace
John
