Life in the Big City
October 21, 2005
This week went by so fast! I got my two new students on Tuesday morning. By Tuesday afternoon it was apparent that the second grader was not capable of second grade work so I moved her down to first grade. She didn’t want to go. Every time she got a chance on Wednesday, she would slip back into my classroom, sit down and pull out a book. She kept telling me she didn’t want to go to Ms Amy’s class. By Thursday she had come to accept it and now she goes there without prompting.
On Wednesday Mohammed took me to the mine office so I could take my driving test. Everyone has to have a special permit to drive on mine property. The permit also allows us to use company vehicles. There are some things I have to remember when I am doing “official” things like that. First of all it always takes longer than I think it should. There are very few signs on office doors and no directories. Most of the people one encounters speak very little to no English. This means that you have to wander through this maze of corridors, searching for a person you have never met before. Upon finding that individual you will probably have to wait. Appointments are ridiculous as time has no meaning. We found the gentleman I needed after about ten minutes of searching. He could speak some English and he directed me to take him to the car. He insisted that I identify some parts of the engine although he only knew the names of these items in French. After several unsuccessful attempts at interpreting, I finally just started naming everything I saw. By the time I had worked through the intake and exhaust manifolds he seemed convinced that I knew something about the engine. What it is he wanted me to know, I will never know, but I do know that I passed that part of the test. A quick trip to the village later I was certified, qualified, and permitted to drive.
Yesterday after work the three of us loaded up into In Sha’Allah (the school Land Rover) and headed into Sadiola. I took Carrie to the bar I had been to earlier with Reg. She got to meet Colly and Zachary got to meet Colly’s little girl. She spoke not one word the entire time we were there, but she followed Zachary everywhere. They had a ball running here and there and laughing. They were quite the pair; Zachary naked from the waste down and white as a ghost, the little girl naked but for underwear and black as night. Carrie and I just sat on the porch, drank a beer, watched the kids, and chatted with Colly. Words cannot describe the pleasure in such a simple thing as that.
We loaded up and bounced through town, crawling along so as not to run over any goats, donkeys, bicycles, motorcycles, or small children. We ogled the “mall” and the wares for sale, waved to those that waved to us, and sweated like whores in church as we drove our car through Sadiola. On the way back home we detoured to the picnic place. It is a low walled structure with a thatched roof shelter, several barbeque pits, and a killer view of the mine and the valley it sits in. We whiled away some time there and finally headed back home, each of us creating our own little pool of sweat around our butts.
Today we are going to play volleyball with whoever happens to show up. Tomorrow I go to watch the rugby playoffs between the Blue Bulls and the Cheetahs. Sunday there is a craft fair and BBQ. All in all a busy weekend. Winter approaches, the rains are dwindling, the nights are cooler, and the bugs are fewer. We glide effortlessly into tomorrow, blissfully unaware of the greater world around us.
MJR
This week went by so fast! I got my two new students on Tuesday morning. By Tuesday afternoon it was apparent that the second grader was not capable of second grade work so I moved her down to first grade. She didn’t want to go. Every time she got a chance on Wednesday, she would slip back into my classroom, sit down and pull out a book. She kept telling me she didn’t want to go to Ms Amy’s class. By Thursday she had come to accept it and now she goes there without prompting.
On Wednesday Mohammed took me to the mine office so I could take my driving test. Everyone has to have a special permit to drive on mine property. The permit also allows us to use company vehicles. There are some things I have to remember when I am doing “official” things like that. First of all it always takes longer than I think it should. There are very few signs on office doors and no directories. Most of the people one encounters speak very little to no English. This means that you have to wander through this maze of corridors, searching for a person you have never met before. Upon finding that individual you will probably have to wait. Appointments are ridiculous as time has no meaning. We found the gentleman I needed after about ten minutes of searching. He could speak some English and he directed me to take him to the car. He insisted that I identify some parts of the engine although he only knew the names of these items in French. After several unsuccessful attempts at interpreting, I finally just started naming everything I saw. By the time I had worked through the intake and exhaust manifolds he seemed convinced that I knew something about the engine. What it is he wanted me to know, I will never know, but I do know that I passed that part of the test. A quick trip to the village later I was certified, qualified, and permitted to drive.
Yesterday after work the three of us loaded up into In Sha’Allah (the school Land Rover) and headed into Sadiola. I took Carrie to the bar I had been to earlier with Reg. She got to meet Colly and Zachary got to meet Colly’s little girl. She spoke not one word the entire time we were there, but she followed Zachary everywhere. They had a ball running here and there and laughing. They were quite the pair; Zachary naked from the waste down and white as a ghost, the little girl naked but for underwear and black as night. Carrie and I just sat on the porch, drank a beer, watched the kids, and chatted with Colly. Words cannot describe the pleasure in such a simple thing as that.
We loaded up and bounced through town, crawling along so as not to run over any goats, donkeys, bicycles, motorcycles, or small children. We ogled the “mall” and the wares for sale, waved to those that waved to us, and sweated like whores in church as we drove our car through Sadiola. On the way back home we detoured to the picnic place. It is a low walled structure with a thatched roof shelter, several barbeque pits, and a killer view of the mine and the valley it sits in. We whiled away some time there and finally headed back home, each of us creating our own little pool of sweat around our butts.
Today we are going to play volleyball with whoever happens to show up. Tomorrow I go to watch the rugby playoffs between the Blue Bulls and the Cheetahs. Sunday there is a craft fair and BBQ. All in all a busy weekend. Winter approaches, the rains are dwindling, the nights are cooler, and the bugs are fewer. We glide effortlessly into tomorrow, blissfully unaware of the greater world around us.
MJR
posted by Bronx to Timbuktu at 12:57 AM
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