Bared Palms

Wondering what you can do to me more like me? Well one way is to drink like me. The following is a recipe for successfully countering the drying effects of la saison seche that has just begun by caramelizing the lawns and causing the weeds to bolt in a last desperate push. The first thing you do is go down the street to any of the peanut vendors who hawk their wares. I like to buy my peanuts from the little fellow who has a stand just in front of the man who has a suite store-the store is a large tree with suits hanging from it. Make sure to buy the grilled kind. Raw peanuts are good to eat while on a walk, but for this to work in the best way possible, buy les arachids grillees. Now continue on the walk with me. Let us turn down the main boulevard past the taxi stand and bus station where if we were so inclined we could jump on the shuttle bus for Meganga or any number of other thrilling destinations or we can buy some oranges from the boys who shave them artfully with their knives and stare knives into the backs of their competitition. Ahh, the walk continues. Uh-oh, don't me shocked but it turns out that today a swarm of bees has decided to take over the area in front of one of the butcher shops. Perhaps they grew out of a bull's stomach? Quickly now, cut across the street and continue on the way. Here is a likely looking boulangerie, lets go inside. Ahh, le pain au chocolate. Yes, I do think I will have one of those. What else, why a coca-cola if you could be so kind. Now you will have to get a Coke Classique out in the States because the coke here only uses sugar for a sweetener, and I think this is crucial. Alright we continue down the streets ovverstepping the carcasses of two small dogs who must have been the rungs of a litter and deciding not to step in another fresh smelling mess that might be there on account of the horse I see in the distance. And then we reach the destination, after passing the row of book sellers who sit on the street and insist, I like to imagine, that their books are the best because they are covered in dirt filth and grime and are mightilly and permanently redolent of exhaust. Into the small magasin and past rows of canned food, tinned milk, and kilo-packaged rice to the alcohol. Now comes the most important part. Choose the highest end of the cheapest red wine. It will be labeled table wine and probably come in five-liter plastic bottles or one liter cardboard boxes. Anything is a bottle is too good for what follows. Being all worn out now, we'll take a moto back to the compound. Make siiiiiit siiiiiit noise and a moto will swing by for you, usually a wild eyed man with goggles, a huge winter coat, and a colored and numbered vest. The ones with toothpicks, I have found and judged arbitrarily, to be the best. Simply say your destination and zip zip zoom you will be quizzing through town. Now wait a little while until the sun is just brutal and then unscrew the cap to the five liters of table wine to let it air. Unscrew the cap of the coke and fill half the glass. Then fill the rest with the wine. Place this in the freezer for a good ten minutes. After you take it out, put in about seven peanuts. Sometimes the peanuts float. It is best when they do, though I don't know why some do and some don't. Take a refreshing drink, and be sure to catch a peanut in it. You now have palatable wine, for this stuff otherwise makes your enamel decide that it has lived with your teeth long enough and files for divorce, and a high protein snack. Good for your heart, good for your muscles.

Not just the heat drives a man to drink, though, there are other events in the course of the day. All week there were hints to me about discipline. Whether jokes about beatings, or advice about making a student buy a notebook and fill it with the repeated sentence of I'm sorry I will behave, and to hand the the entirely filled book in two days or receive a one week suspension. These usually came with the carried idea that my students have little respect for me. Well since I don't really care if they respect me, after all in a class of thirty as long as the eight who are really working continue to enjoy English as much as they do, and there are more joining them every week, I am content. But it turns out that my not controlling class meant that the other teachers saw it reflected poorly on them. And so we come to Thursday. I had an awesome lesson prepared using their book, usually an activity that gets pretty good attention. But suddenly one of my students was up and wandering around I asked him to sit down and he said that someone had stolen his pen. I pointed out that he had three in his pocket and that he could look for it during the break. He threw one, and I confiscated them all. Ten minutes later I returned them and asked him not to throw anything. As soon as my back was turned he threw one again. I took him outside and asked him to stay there the whole period. A few minutes later my class hushed and tension filled the sir. I turned around from the board and saw someone at the door. Such incidents are normal, I often have visitors who need have some task or other and I went to the back. The man, who is the discipline master, asked if I was having some problems, I replied that I was but I had settled it, he replied that he needed some students to 'ranger'' I failed to understand this entirely since the way I know the word is that it means to clean up. I assumed that he punish the students by making them clean something somewhere and so I name those who had been causing the problems, three girls and four boys. He then called them to the front, and lectured the class on respect. It turns out that the students were so loud that day that they disturbed other classrooms. And then he did not take the students outside to clean, he instead brought out a whip. None of the students were surprised, but I was dumbfounded. He proceed to explain to me that sometimes the children must be beaten. And one by one they bared their palms to him for four swats, one on each hand. The boys and girls alike took it silently for the most part, some cringed and soon stiffened, but none tried to run or even complain. The last boy, the main instigator whom I had put outside, received ten lashes, on his hands and calves. It was horrifying, hauntingly so. And the whole time the class watched me, not with judgement, they don't seem to blame me, but those students no longer greet me outside of class. The main instigator, on Friday, was sitting somewhere new and participating eagerly. And me, I am still in shock. I have also arranged French lessons so that I will be able to understand why certain things are happening. I can convey anything I want, but aurally I still understand little.

Friday morning was a pleasant surprise, while all of America celebrated veterans day, Cameroon celebrated World Philosophy Day which began by one of the smartest boys I've met here give a talk about philosophy being the love of knowledge, but more than that the zealous pursuit of and then translated his speech into English and the said that many of the most influential philosophers were German (he is an empassioned learner of German and wants to go to university to be a German major) and then he translated hid speech into German. After which the students all applauded his learning. And then s drum began pulsing and a line of students gyrated and danced forward in a traditional dance. Suddenly one light-on-his-feet boy came leaping out dressed in a black tshirt with white paint on his face and a tail draping behind him and did a tremendously exciting and exquisitely graceful arabesque for us all. A good celebration