Bangalore Orphanage, Chapter Five

Minute One

Actually, a collection of small minutes that take up much larger spaces in my heart.

My English students are all very shy and it takes an arm and a leg to get them to say or do much of anything in class. But when they do I am rarely disappointed with the content they present me.

A conversation I had in class one day:

Me: Okay, today we're going to write a story. Who or what should be the subject?

Class:

Me: ?

Class:

Me: ??

Boy in the back: Jim Carey?

Another conversation I had in class:

Students: We'll see you on Friday!

Me: I don't teach class on Fridays.

Students: Yes, you do.

Me: No, I never teach on Fridays.

Students: You always teach on Fridays, we just don't always come.

Me: *Realizes that each of my students genuinely believes that I teach class on Fridays and didn't notice that I don't teach class on Fridays because they have each, individually, been ditching.

The children at MCH (Missionary Children's Home) had a holiday from school in the middle of the week so Ruth dragged them all to the house so they could participate in... drumroll please... CHORE DAY!! As you can imagine, they were jumping for joy. Washing cars, scrubbing windows and folding laundry is every twelve-year-old's dream vacation, right? With the sound of youthful pandemonium the house was shiny and sparkling in no time flat.

"I give them jobs based on their personality," Ruth imparted to me. Then she lowered her voice. "Some of them are very lazy. They will wiggle their way out of anything." At some point during the adult's lunch, Ruth paused mid-sentence to glare out the door at the car-washers and exclaim, "Why does he have a pink bucket!? The pink buckets belong in the bathroom! There are piles of unused buckets outside. Why does he need the one from the bathroom?"

The boy under scrutiny was in the middle of dumping said bucket on a brother (not the car) when Ruth strode throught the door and caught him by the collar. I feared for him, knowing that Ruth can give a Come-to-Jesus meeting worthy of the Hall of Fame.

Jamhaolim and Agun (the Haokip's two biological children) are both in utter admiration of all the children at MCH. Two of the older girls, Rebecca and Henoli, are staying with us for the time being because they are off from school. The boys want to be with them every moment of the day, so most dinners end up with Ruth and me sitting alone at one end of the large table while all four children sit in an awkward clump at the other end. But it's easier to let them move their chairs and plates around 400 times than to try to hold Agun down, so we enjoy our peaceful corner and leave the wild things to Rebecca and Henoli.

Sorry Terrapin Creek - I've found myself a new band!

A conversation over dinner held between Agun (the exhausted two-year-old) and Ruth (his exasperated mohter):

Agun: This cactus is giving me too much gas.

Ruth: What?

Agun: Too much school!

Ruth: What?

Agun: The mushroom soup you made, it has magic in it.

Ruth: What are you saying??

Agun: I don't know, okay?! I don't know.

Every moment I spend with Agun consists of me trying not to crack up because it will only encourage him and absolutely failing so I have to sit there, red in the face, trying to hold it all in while listening to Ruth fuss at him. He never leaves a dull moment in his wake.

Minute Two

And I wanted to share the lyrics of a song I discovered recently. I think that we fall in love with the things we need, so I guess I need this song and perhaps someone else does, too.

The Lone Pilgrim:

I came to the place where the lone pilgrim lay

And patiently stood by him tomb

When in a low whisper I heard something say

How sweetly I sleep here alone

The tempest may howl and the loud thunder roar

And gathering storms may arise

But calm is my feeling, at rest is my soul

The tears are all wiped from my eyes

The call of my Master compelled me from home

No kindred or relative nigh

I met the contagion and sank to the tomb

My soul flew to mansions on high

Go tell my companion and children most dear

To weep not for me now I'm gone

The same hand that led me through seas most severe

Has kindly assisted me home

Minute Three

And I'm getting really sad because I have one week left.

And I'm getting really happy because I have one week left.

It gets hard when you're torn between two places so very far away from each other.

It gets really hard.

I miss you all.

Goodnight.