Living for the Other...

Again I find myself in the cafe, buying the cheapest thing on the menu and mooching off their wireless internet for as long as they will let me, or as long as I can stand the sentimental blithering of the lady going on at the table behind me while her companion, some unfortunate Tibetan girl, attempts faint interest and succeeds in only making everyone in the cafe feel pity.

So this may be a very short post.

In the spirit of Thanksgiving (a holiday that cannot properly be celebrated in the absence of turkey, but hey maybe two chickens cooked by the Muslim men will work) I want to list all of the things I am thankful for in this place:

• One kuai (read 14 cents) fresh french fries less than a meter outside the school gate.
• The number of Tibetans and Chinese who wished me a Happy Thanksgiving.
  
• The girls who I met who are believers even though not a single other person in their families or among their friends are.
  
• Mango ice cream, found in only two places in the city.
  
• The small Christmas tree and ornaments that were sent to me.
  
• That Soba didn't blind me when he tried to help me get the bug out of my eye.
  
• The cranberry sauce that Sarah made to go with our Thanksgiving chicken.
  
• My students who always act so overly excited to see me in the street.
  
• That Tibetan people will clap no matter how poorly you sing.
  
• The crystal clear nights, where every star seems to gleam as though it had just been polished.
  
• The ladder which I found that will let me up to the roof of our building.
  
• My team, spread out over the city as we are, we are here together.
  
• Cups of sweet tea that never run dry, cups of butter tea that always do.
  
• The sweet little puppies who roll and tumble all over your feet as you walk down the street, and the cows who lazily stop up traffic, and the yaks who look as though they are posing for pictures.
  
• The children who do group exercises with their school every morning as I finish class.
  
• The electric heaters that don't blow up even when I forget to turn them off.
  
• Sweet potato casserole that actually tasted like sweet potato casserole.
  
• People who overcome their shyness enough to stop and chat with me.
  
• The Chinese restaurant family who always talk to me and cook the tastiest food even though I don't understand even 5% of what they are saying.
  
• The Tibetans who never grow weary of correcting my pronunciation and increasing my vocabulary.
  
• That His work is visible here, not all the time, not in obvious ways, but powerfully nonetheless.

Maybe you can be thankful with me for these things, and all the other things which I haven't listed...

Allow me to show you an all too disturbing picture of my feet... they look way grosser in picture than they do in real life. I think. At least you should believe me.

Anyway, ignore the general nastiness of feet and look at the pinkey toe on my left foot. Swollen, red, sore, itchy. I've been thinking that somehow I broke it and was possibly going to have to amputate it, meaning that I would need a prosthetic pinkey toe because everyone knows that without your pinkey toes you can't really walk.

No I haven't really be thinking that, but I have been wondering what was going on. Turns out, after some slight investigating and some somewhat humiliating displays of my nasty feet to my teammates, I have chilblains.

If you're going "what in the world?" then you're reaction is the same as mine. Often mistaken for frostbite, they occur frequently from exposure to drastic and sudden changes in temperature (as is the daily norm in Lhasa, just walk from a sunny spot to the shade to have the experience). One website said that 1 in 10 people in the UK get them at least once in their life. I don't know what that has to do with me, but it did bring me some comfort.

Anyway, the good news: they go away naturally in a few weeks (read months at altitude where everything takes longer) and so the remedy is simply: keep your fool self warm.

Got it.

It is a well known fact among the teaching community that you are never going to have every student's attention every moment of every lesson. But it is also a well known fact that when you repeat the directions for an activity four times, model it twice, and then still find out that they aren't doing it... it's time to take matters into your own hands.

With thirty minutes left of class I realized that the whole previous hour and a half had been totally wasted and not a single second absorbed. They were just not listening. So I did what I had to do.
1. Stopped the class. Had them close their books and notebooks.
2. Erased the whole board (which had the whole days lesson on it), took down the pictures that we had been using and packed all of my things up.
3. Demanded that there be no talking. Instructed them to only read.
4. Wrote very deliberately on the board: I want you to speak English very well. I know you are smart. I know you are good students. When you do not listen. When you do not do your work. I cannot help you.
5. Then I wrote about four times larger than all the rest, I WANT TO HELP YOU.

There was silence in the classroom the whole time I was writing and for the two minutes that I just stood there and let it soak in.

6. Erased the board again and wrote: How can I help you? then angrily: WRITE AN ANSWER!

For the rest of class they wrote their answers. In silence.

Here are a few of them:

Ms. kelly: I think you teach the very well. I'm not any advice to you (really).

I know is mistake, please teacher forgive. from now on I can turn over a new leaf sorry my kelly teacher

I am decide if not respect you not listen not do my work then will give up your student and don't teach the english

sorry teacher we know mistaken, after we listen teacher speak text, please teacher this time excuse we

I know we are wrong. very sorry. we are very need ms kelly

ms kelly I am so sorry. we are need your helping please you don't angril

And a whole stack of others just the same. We'll just have to see how the next class goes... but really, how can you be angry with them?

This post is going to be uncharacteristically scattered. Just thought I'd give you a heads up.

• Emotional boxing match: I feel like this past week has been an emotional nightmare to beat all others. So much has been going on (schedule changes, student visits, field trips), I've seen so many things (more prayer flags, idols, and chains than I would ever want to count), been overwhelmed by so many things (travel plans, school work, even daily tasks), been frustrated by so many things (jacked up internet the number one cause)... the good news is I've come out of the ring with my arms up and only a few minor scratches. Victory for His children is not a wish, it's a promise.
  
• A mistaken goat and a fun bus driver: So I went with the crew to a little place about three hours east of Lhasa by bus. I never fail to be entertained by the wildlife, especially with the chance yak sighting. So we were driving along and on the side of the road I see what in all aspects appears to be none other than a mini yak. I didn't want my companions to miss this opportunity to view such a rare phenomenon and so I proudly pointed it out to them as we drove past. Turned out to be a goat. But it seriously looked like a yak, only mini. The bus driver (whose only English consisted of the word "sorry") was told my mistake and thought it was so hilarious that his English vocabulary tripled when he learned how to say "mini yak"... which of course became the name of anything with four legs in the street.
• For the love of students: I went out to tea with three girls from one of my classes. As always in the course of our conversation the question came up "Ms. Kelly, do you have boyfriend?" After assuring them that I do not, one girl said in disgust "why? Ms. Kelly... if I were a man I would to marry you!" I had to laugh hysterically for about 2.75 minutes.
  
• Picnics tell all: The group of people that we took to Teidrum (a small nunnery with a hot springs) turned out to look something like the United Nations, there were at least 6 nationalities represented by the fifteen or so that went. We had planned on having a picnic lunch... it was amazing to see what people brought. The most interesting turned out to be (not the oreos that a teammate of mine brought) but the plastic bag of semi boiled yak meat that one of our guests gladly shared with anyone who was daring. Wash that down with some weak butter tea... shimbodu (delicious in Tibetan).
  
• Hot Spring rules: My friend, quite helpfully, translated the rules for the hot springs: 1. Do not catch snakes or other wildlife in the hot springs. 2. Do not wash dishes or clothes in the hot springs. 3. Do not pee or poop in the hot springs. Apparently they were having some problems with these things... yikes.
  
• A little dusty: as we were driving through one of the many villages I happened to see one of the most mind blowing things. Picture a man standing by the side of the road holding his pants with one hand and beating the mess out of them with this huge stick with the other, don't neglect the fact that as he's beating his pants (which are still on his body) huge billows of dust are rolling off. Seriously, I understand maybe not wanting to wash your clothes (I mean the washers are all in Chinese after all and who can understand that?) but you'd think that taking your clothes off would be a prerequisite for beating the dust out of them.
  
• Finally, I just want to show you a video that just unnerves me:
  

Your average resident of Lhasa speaks at least two languages fluently and probably has a good handle on a third or some variety of dialect of the previous two.

I speak only one.

And I have found that despite the fact that I have been speaking this language for 23 years, and am currently teaching this language to many students, I cannot find words to describe life here. There aren't any. Perhaps English wasn't built for it.

Life here is beautiful.
I know that I'm living in what could be the most strikingly beautiful place on earth. An absurdly unique city of very ancient and very modern co-existing in a tense balance surrounded by the most majestic snow dusted mountains one could ever dream of. Every single moment the very rocks cry out the wonder of the Creator.

Life here is tragic.
How many dusty, matted haired, children does one have to see sleeping on the streets to be heart broken? How many crippled, glassy-eyed old men and women does one have to pass to feel acutely the ache of humanity? How many times must one be a witness to students and friends bowing before a painted statue before the weight of their chains becomes too much to bear?

Life here is exciting.
Every time:

• A steaming cup of butter tea is placed before me
• I venture into a shop to attempt to find something familiar
• I find myself stuck on a bike in an intersection between a bus and a pedicab
• I am greeted by a total strangers heavily accented "hello"
• I stop to watch the parade of nomad pilgrims doing laps around the Potala
  

I am reminded of what a strange and exciting life this is. One never never knows what each new day will bring, what opportunities, what conversations, what surprises, what food... all one can do is trust.

Life here is breath-taking.
Whether you are catching your breath because you just walked up three flights of stairs or because you saw the sunrise one more morning over the mountains makes no difference. In this place one is just as likely to lose ones breath from the altitude as from the sheer realization of the raw perplexity of it all. This city is ridiculous. This city is real.

So I am astounded. And after living here for six weeks I have come to the conclusion that words, my words, just cannot speak.

This place is dark. It is such a darkness that can make one feel weak, fearful, forgotten, lost, alone, unappreciated, unwanted, misunderstood, worthless, joyless, helpless, and hopeless. It can make one feel these things almost without notice. It is a darkness that sneaks and creeps, prowls like a lion waiting to devour someone.

Of course, none of those adjectives hold truth for us. I know this.
But these past few days I didn't feel it.

So today I am reminded of a very mighty and alarming promise:

This morning I was walking across campus when a small group of giggling girls, none of whom I recognized, handed me this note on behalf of their classmate.

Hi Dear!

First I would like to wish you happy every day in Lhasa.

I don't know what you called but when I first saw you you took my heart away Since that day i am always thinking about you. every morning when you corss the my calss building i want to tell you Hello... but i can't Because i am afraid you.

Now i want to tell you my inner world "i love you" can you excepe me. if you can tell me. I hope that you give me one chance to love you.

From 06 art major.

I'm afraid I can't give this random student one chance to love me, despite the fact that his eloquent letter provided me endless amusement all day.

Ahh... a love lost... and hilarity ensues... :)