Part
1: Ebb and Flow
“The lust of the goat is the
bounty of god.
The Nakedness of woman is
the work of god.
Excess of sorrow laughs.
Excess of joy weeps. William Blake
The
illusion of time keeps chugging on, bending in loops through expedient worm
holes or lagging and trudging through a monsoon mud. It truly is a stretchable
phenomenon in Bhutan.
I had a hissy fit when the school store ran out of chart paper. I internalized
90% of the tantrum but did complain to principal La. Of course I work in Bhutan where
chalk is a luxury item so there is no reason to get worked up about it. But
it’s Tim and you all know I get worked up when the wind blows the wrong
direction. Here’s a legitimist thing to get worked up over. I stepped on a nail
which punctured my shoe and my skin. Ouch! Like the song says, “Walked all the
way with a nail in my shoe.” I was in the midst of bagging plastic bottles to
send off to civilization for refund. Proceeds will benefit the charity club. It’s
been a busy week at school as we gear up for midterms. I am checking each
students 5 paragraph essay’s determined to make them better writers. It is not
always pretty. One BCF colleague of mine exclaimed that her students writing
makes her “want to vomit.” My reaction is somewhat less gustatory but many of
my students can’t write coherently, while others are approaching continuity and
organization in their compositions. Either way I am setting realistic goals for
each writer. It’s all about individual improvement and one rubric cannot
satisfy the entire roster, nor should it in my humble opinion. I have been a
tad moody of late (since birth) but loosened up enough to have some fun this
week. My students really go for the (Jim Carry) physical humor. We love to jump
around the room like golden languors at recess where they squeak and squeal
like their furry counterparts. They also go in for facial expressions and one
liner’s including my Sharshop catch phrase “Yelama” which means wow or
surprise. Overall the teaching is going fine and I am slowly acclimating to
what I can actually accomplish in the classroom. I would love more individual
time with the students but this is nearly impossible with such large class
sizes. Someday I would like to work with a small class again. I often think how
different my position is from my pal Allison’s job in Sonoma County California.
Overall I think she has it rougher in the field due to all the panoptic
pressure of the N. American education institute, including parent teacher
conferences. But I have some funky challenges too and teaching is never easy
anywhere in the world. For instance these kids adore the rote learning style
where a teacher lectures out of the text book. Furthermore group work is
difficult to execute without CHART PAPER. Boo Hoo for the author. One must get
creative out here in the bush and that’s part of the fun it seems. I do notice
as I have already noted in past entries that my students have a certain ease
and willingness to speak English compared to some of the older students I chat
with. So I try to mix up my style and keep them actively involved. More
students have been volunteering in class and I have begun calling on the ones
who don’t. Of course I cannot adhere to the Harris rule of 80%/20% for the
student to teacher lesson ratio but I am still constructing plans that involve
the students more then they are accustomed too.
The flies continue to buzz around my head (with
my new king’s haircut) and the roses tire and wither off the vine. Monsoon
gathers in the Indian Ocean plotting its
attack. The other day we awoke in a mist straight out of a horror flick. Straight
out of a 3 AM episode of Scooby Doo. Straight out of the Bermuda Triangle. A
heavenly mist concealing the pearly gates with their arch angel bouncers.
Merlyn’s grey cloak or Gandolph’s beard. For a tick it even smelled like Fort Tuna
(The Friendly City) before a dash of Tibet filled my olfactory factory.
In other mundane news except to the author, I finished “Another Roadside
Attraction” I love this Tom Robbins dude as the astute reader can ascertain
from my puny imitations. He is obsessed with Christianity, paganism,
sensuality, and adventure like yours truly. He begs the query, what would you
do if you found Jesus’ corpse? The end of the novel made me think of a special
someone which is not uncommon. His words put chinks in my armor of fear while
gleaning perspective on this cosmic board game called life. As I mentioned a
hundred times, it’s hard for me to let go perhaps my genetic fear of death on
steroids. But in Bhutan
it’s all about excepting things as they are. Deep down this is why we ALL came.
To scrape the surface of our true natures. (Excuse me fellow teachers if I
spoke out of turn, I can only guess your motivations.) But whatever your reason
Ho! For doing it YO! Reidi’s words struck a familiar rusty chord with me. Acclamation
has also been slower and rougher then anticipated or desired. But acclamation
takes time. Just look at our friends in the animal kingdom where evolution
takes place over millions of years. (Sorry to offend creationists.) So for four months were doing okay.
My
murky ideas about religion are sharpening into focus. I am positive that no one
religion is the true religion. This goes against anything and everything I have
ever observed or feel in my marrow. The tapestry of the universe ifs far too
varied and complex to resound in man’s contrived answers. As the wizard says, “It’s
all one!” Whatever the true god or goddess may be, we as a race have raced away
from living harmoniously with the planet. Either created by the Earth Mother or
Our Father who art in heaven, it is being destroyed and corroded. What would
Pan say. He would just do a hoof dance then scurry off into the forest in
pursuit of wood nymphs. My kind of fellow indeed. I am sorry to bore you with
these silly notions and will try to stick to relevant Bhutanese information. I
wouldn’t make much of a journalist. The truth is there is not much to report
here. A lot of internal weather patterns shifting in mutable patterns and a lot
of hard work simultaneously rewarding and frustrating. I cheer myself up by
affirming that I am one of the very few Yanks to ever work in the kingdom. (And
that’s a fact Jack.) We Westerners love to be frontiersmen set in a unique
mold. AH the ego fly’s. But none the less, on a personal or on a manifested
destiny level, it’s pretty satisfying. And culture clash can be awkward or
sensational! Lonely or exhilarating.
Desperate or joyous. Weird of Bizarre. Can you find the synonym class?
(Wookie
Interlude)
“Sure don’t know what I’m
going for, But I’m gonna go for it for sure.”
Bob Weir
It’s
almost a year to the day since the monumental and DNA decoding concert at the
Throck in Mill Valley California, witnessing Bobby solo. Dancing
under the calm gaze of a Wookie. For those who don’t know. A Wookie is a hairy longhaired
(sometimes dreaded) creature with or without hygienic teeth. He is tall with an
unmistakable glint of knowing in his eye. He always has a minimum of three women
in his harem and is sometimes attired in a loincloth cape, or rags. There are
many imitation Wookies but the trained eye can spot the genuine article. I was
fortunate to wiggle in close and dance with one of his allotted women. He
allowed me privileged access AHEM, to his stock with placid countenance. I
mention this for the one or two readers who may have been in attendance (including
my benefactor) or have an interest via an anthropological bent, in proving the
existence of mythological creatures. As for the show oh my! I won’t ever forget
Ace shinning like a deity, a bearded Buddha in a self contained aura bubble. Channeling
Ganeshy on his old guitar. Telling the story of Saint of Circumstance and the
source of this blog! The headwaters from which these adventures flows.
Part 2 Indo- Bhutan
Dance Party AKA Another Roadside Attraction
I
have grooved my way through Asia at some
unusual dance parties. Including the discos of Korea, the full moon party (bust),
dancing with Lady Boys in Samui, and of course boogying with STS9 and company in
the Japanese sunrise. But tonight was the most unusual and miraculous event of
them all. First the Bhutanese took the pine needled floor for an hour plus of
traditional dance. There lovely choreographed movements and hearty vocals
stirred the ancient forces of the night. The participants reminded me of black
neck cranes with their graceful movements. I watched from the wings with my
Indian pal (Butterfly) where we came up with more prefixes for fly including,
bitterfly, beggerfly, betterfly, bonerfly, bathroomfly, bedroomfly, ECT. ECT.
ECT.
After
dinner the Indian boys took the outdoor floor for an intense disco session set to
Hindi music. The Bhutanese stared rather stunned from the bluff. These Indian cats
are working on the hydro project and were hosting this get together for the
entire community. The party was at a huge pad at the junction (Zongpola) where
the road splits three ways to Doksom, Yangtse, and Tsenkharla. Finally two
brave girls in Kiras hit the floor. Now you must understand this was no small
feat in the wilds of primitive East Bhutan. Where
culture can be AHEM rigid. This was a Rosa Parks type bravery being displayed.
Obviously I jumped in whooping it up with the sassy young woman in a black
Kira. She had some moves too let me tell you! I’m not sure this tension could
have been sustained but soon the children joined in the fun, softening the vibe
to an innocent splendor. So there we were, a pack of Indians, two Bhutanese
chicks, a white boy, and a group of elementary school children dancing together
in a light rain. This was the real deal too, with limbs akimbo and huge dung
eating grins. A whomp whomp
throw-down for the ages. Ah dance the universal language, the purest form of
love. Some adorable little girl sensing the power of the moment crept about
snapping photos. I posed with the cutie in black. I posed with the gyrating
Indians, I posed with Sangay Dempa. It was a scene nothing short of Guru
Rimpoche’s sacred flight on the back of his tiger. The possibilities seem endless
in this universe if we pulled off a cross cultural coed dance party in East Bhutan. On the bluff an old abi (grandma) waved her
arms in approval. So very odd and entertaining in fact one might call it a
religious experience for this cowpoke. Whoop Whoop! Indeed another roadside
attraction.
Part
3 Acceptance
“Keep on playing children it’s
a long hard journey home” Volker
Well
another day in Buddha’s paradise. I spent class time combing over student
essays meeting with each individual one by one. I have noticed some improvement
in writing in certain students. I also trolled the grounds mulling over the
trash situation and the unsanitary conditions of the boys toilets. Disgusting
and unhealthy is an understatement. The reality is a stool bomb exploded in
THEIR stalls. I addressed the issue with principal La. I got an e mail from my dear Morgan that
opened a floodgate of emotions. This section
is addressed to her. You mentioned “Into the wild,” I only saw the movie with
my dad. In the end the protagonist reaches his destination but dies alone. He
comes to a conclusion in his death bus that beauty is only truly appreciated
when shared with others. Ah the human animal and his/her need for
companionship. This fact accompanies me to bed on lonely nights. And most of
them are since those days. So your readership means the world to me but you
ought to watch the moon instead. And
thanks for the art project tip, a fine idea that I will do next week. THERE has
to be a creative solution to this trash incursion. Remember Rabes you are freer then you realize and sorely missed.
Checked
into Miss Reidi’s blog and saw she is keeping her “joy journal” and watching
the butterflies of Lhuntse. Although we are not actively communicating I think
of Ms. Smith frequently along with all my other brethren. Only Becky bears the
brunt of my misgivings as an unpaid therapist. Ho hum if I had a biological
sister she would play that role. Sorry Bunks. Well I know I have many lessons
to learn here despite my best efforts of resistance. My own butterfly named
Julia tells that, “Life is a never ending lesson of letting go.” I think she
would dig this place despite the lack of trees to sit in. The workload has
increased and midterms are approaching. I am doing my best to stay focused and
stay in the moment, two of my biggest challenges in life. This place will keep
you honest. But if the devil approached me with a double cheeseburger from
Phyllis’s I might not have Jesus’ restraint.
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