Chapter 7:
Corporal Punishment-Snake in the grass-Tuesday Blues
“Made me appreciate the Tuesday
blues, perfect color of a perfect bruise, made me thank my lucky stars for
brand new scratches and well healed scars”
Corporal
punishment is an ugly fact of life in Bhutan. In this context corporal
punishment means beating students for disciplinary action. Western teachers
cringe and even cry at witnessing these harsh punishments and despite being
illegal it happens every day at every school in the Kingdom. During assembly
one administrator pulled several boys ears yanking their heads around by the
lobe then this administrator proceeded to bonk the girls on the head which
sounded like banging a coconut from my position fifty yards away. Then during second
period another female teacher pulled one of my top students out of my class and
lashed her with a thin stick. The girl’s offense was writing her sister’s homework
for her. It reminded me when that so and
so American got Cained in Singapore for graffiti. Except no news coverage for
young Sangay Wangmo getting licked in East Bhutan since it’s a part of everyday
reality for a student. Brave Sangay came back to class but wasn’t crying which
seems a typical response to a beating. They just take it and move on but I’m
uncertain to what benefit lashings would provide the student. It’s ironic this
happens in a GNH country with little violent crime. In Kuensal one reads about
domestic homicide for example a drunken husband butchering his wife but these
are rare occurrences. But daily physical punishment can be seen in village life
and on school campuses. The kids themselves express themselves by clunking one
another on the head with a fist or punching a friend in the arm. Heck Becky
fisted me on the head last weekend and Ashleigh is a regular pinch bug after a
few cocktails. As a foreigner (Phelincpa which means outsider) I don’t want to
rush judgement or condemn Bhutanese scholastic discipline but it’s off-putting
to witness on a Monday morning especially considering the harshness of a
boarding student’s existence. The rest of assembly was spent listening to
snuffling phlegm sounds emanating from the matrix of the student body. HMMMM
lack of water no soap and passing stool, do the math people. Through it all I
remain fortunate being privy to this otherworldly place, to wit. Last night a
yellow moon rose dead red over Tawang peeking through an ominous cloudbank. A
few stars winked from atop Shampula while over Bartsham ropes of lightning lassoed
the local deity in Rangjoon. Take it all around I wouldn’t trade my placement
for all the nymphs in Thailand. On my way to the library afterschool students
were gathered around a two foot long snake in the brush. The serpent struck
narrowly missing my heel. (Where’s Arwen when you need her?) It was the biggest
snake I’ve seen in Bhutan and according to the kiddos it was venomous too. Well
it’s Tuesday and I got the blues so what to do and who is John Galt anyway? I
feel alienated from myself which is dangerous here so I try to reconcile with
my soul before it’s too late. Regardless I’ll pull through with the help of the
community.
In class
seven we constructed posters to help promote a litter free campus (This was
Morgan’s idea) and the posters are great but the problem remains and it never
ceases to stick in my craw. I fervently hope for a clean surrounding but alas
it’s hard to teach Bhutanese new tricks. Isn’t It? One student announced she
had to go to the bathroom and pass stool, of course I let her go then another
student whispered in my ear that they ONLY ask for the toilet in Sir Tim’s
class. So their bunking is it? I wonder what little scams these scamps are running
on this old barker.
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