Tuesday, October 11, 2011

India, take two.

Enough! I say, enough of wanting to write but always making excuses. Oh, I'm so tired I have so much work I should be editing photos or writing lesson plans or returning emails or painting my flat or cooking or cleaning perchance going to bed early or going to a yoga class or or or. ENOUGH! So, I have promised myself a little entry to my forgotten blog that I won't edit my ass off. Let's write and see what happens.

Salone - like an old friend I forgot I had and loved - was what being in West Africa was like. A strange but comforting familiarity, thrill, and natural harmony was my initiation to a continent I never really cared for, or desired to know. The wild and dark continent! How could I shrug Africa? The warmth, the tactility and the wide smiley people. That language, that skin, that body; Oooh what heaven!

Working and living in a rural fishing village was at once cocooning/safe and isolating. Internet? What internet? Movie theatre? Ha! Hot shower, yeah right. But I did have an amazing roommate, the most mind meltingly talented and inspiring students,  hot guards to fantasize about and even a sweet little hole in the wall bar to patron. All was fine fine in Salone. In three short months I became a Salone uman. Saying Adieu to this country was the saddest, most heart wrenching goodbye I have experienced thus far, leaving the people dumbfounded. 'Stop crying Miss B. You must endure. This is life. This is God's will. Endure. Endure!'
 Ha. Indeed.

The subcontinent beckoned, and I listened. India, the breathing paradox, the place where all is permitted  and all is repressed; where all is sacred and all is profane. The stares and dirt and sweet and spice and assault of the 5 senses implored me to be amongst its colour, taste, and charm. And I caved. Now I am in the South; a different India. More chill, more palm trees, more dosas, more sarees, more coconut. Same dirt, same pollution, same rubbish piles, same temples, same stares, same sacred cows.

My flat is big and sometimes lonely.

My student today said, 'So aren't you lonely in your apartment?' 

me: 'Hmmmm sometimes. Can we focus please?'

student: 'Where's your husband?'

me: 'I don't have a husband!'  Ok come on let's focus. Show me your focus hands.'

student: 'What? (visually troubled by this news) well you should get one! And then when you have a husband you're going to get a baby.'

me: 'Hahhahah well yes, I guess you might be right. Alright, so, what do you think Dr. Seuss means when he says: 'hang ups and bang ups?'

student: 'So you'll have to miss a day of school when you have the baby. Hmmm. I don't think you should get married Miss B. We can't have you away for a day.'

How can I possibly be lonesome when I have nineteen (soon to be twenty) international little ones loving me up seven hours a day, five days a week? Impossible.

India is home. My bedding and my students make it so. Achcha hai!