Saturday, February 9, 2013

Weekend


Saturday morning. One of my favorite quotes from Downton Abbey is a line from the character played by Maggie Smith, “What’s a weekend?”. Privileged Granny doesn’t know the difference between a Thursday and a Saturday. Only the working class would know. I’ve been looking forward to this day in spite of only having a four day work week. This time last week I was recovering from the plane ride from Atlanta to Johannesburg and waiting on my Sunday morning flight to Mozambique. My sweet friends collected me at the airport and took me home to my tidy little house Veronica had so painstakingly cleaned for me. They watched me unpack my new wardrobe and American toiletries and necessities. My favorite new additions to the home are my espresso pot (thank you Lynne) and juicer (thank you Jean). Ruth had asked for earrings and Ali a Tervis Tumbler. I highly recommend the espresso pot. It makes the perfect cup of coffee and is less clean up than even my beloved French press.

The girls took me to a local restaurant. I ordered the overpriced lobster and savored every bite. I promised myself to buy from the fish tree and make at least once a month. Jet lag woke me up at midnight and I finally just got up and unpacked and organized drawers and put things away. It made Tuesday a real blur. I am not sure how the word got out but 50 students were waiting outside the school when we arrived. Praise God I have help.

Andrea came right before I left to cover for me in my absence. Richard and Adele were here as students of the mission school last summer and have agreed to come in three month rotations. Adele and Andrea are organized. Me, not so much. They had prepared registration forms and placement tests! We put students into groups and I am teaching the beginner group. I cannot tell you how incredibly amazing it is to have help! I often left the classroom completely utterly drained and exhausted. But now, with other people there to lighten the load, I can enjoy my much smaller little group, get to know them by name and not feel like I have been standing on my head for hours.

The scooter didn’t start but I expected that. One of my students, Sebastian took it to the mechanic for me where I paid $4 to have it repaired. It broke down before I got to school, less than a mile away. This time I handed it over to Henrique who repaired it for me, but I am afraid to take her very far as she is so so so unfaithful and not trustworthy.

The first 48 hours here had me reeling. It is such a tough transition between these two worlds. The world I know and love is so easy. I cherished every moment, every shower, every meal. Nothing was wasted on me. And suddenly I am thrust into a world that could not be more different. Hot. Left side of the road. Black faces. White girl. Hot. Dirt. Lizards. Roaches. Mosquitoes. Rats. Little bamboo market. Hot. I boarding the plane thinking, “I’m not ready for this”. I hated leaving my daddy’s hug and the endless choices of Atlanta restaurants not far outside Hartsfield Jackson’s International Terminal. But as I lay on my little foam mattress under my net writing this I can’t help but know, “I was made for this”.
Caught a ride to the beach with Ruth and the Babies
I’ve had surreal moments in the past week. I am getting to know my students. They walk me home in the afternoons. I love hearing their sweet accents call me “Tee-cha”. I love that I am about to pack a bag of a towel, book and straw hat and go to the sea today. I am in the very center of where I belong. 

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