CoVid Vaccinations--getting the booster

 

Saturday morning we had a team meeting. As we were wrapping things up, Karen's last item of new business was that we should go get the CoVid booster. They have not been available long in Togo, but she had heard from friends in Lomé that a clinic they knew had them. Karen's concern was that, since Hammer and Dela plan to travel to the US this summer, they may need to have the booster to get there or in any stopover country. I had been wondering the same thing for myself, so asked Karen if she thought that the clinic would give me a booster. We decided that it didn't hurt to try, so we chose today as our Booster day.

We thought that we would need two cars to make the trip, because Victoria and Viviane had been vaccinated with the group before. Karen wanted them to be fully protected. However, those two ladies decided not to go, so we four piled into Karen's car and off we went. We arrived in a timely fashion and managed to be the first in line for the vaccine. 

The clinic we visited in Lomé today. 

I showed my card to the lady at the desk; told her that I had been here since September and would be staying until June, and then asked if I could also get the third dose. She readily agreed and started doing all the record-keeping necessary for the four of us. Mine took a little longer, because I was not already in the system, so she had to add me. I had to tell her which name was my family name. In French-speaking countries (maybe others as well) they write the last name in all caps, so it is absolutely clear which name it is. Then she wanted to know my profession and my phone number in Togo. I had to enter my email address. Finally, there was some confusion about the date of my first two doses. Here, the date is first, then the month, then the year, so seeing 4/9/2021 followed by 4/26/2021 made no sense to her. I explained that we reversed those in the States. Notice how she carefully wrote today's date in the same order. I was touched at the effort she exerted for that. She also went to the trouble of tracking down someone higher-up (I assume) than she to do the signature. 

As I was waiting for her to do that, I asked a young man waiting for his shot if he was nervous about it. He said he was not. A lot of Togolese are. Viviane and Victoria, for example, who opted out of today's visit. But at least they got the first doses of the vaccine. Some people won't even do that. Hammer devoted a good portion of prayer meeting two weeks in a row to encourage people to get the vaccine. Some people fear that the vaccine has been developed by the Americans so they can come in and kill Africans. Others (especially in church) feel that God will protect them from CoVid. Hammer tried to explain that God has given us the vaccine as part of His protection. Karen talked to them about how it is the best thing we have given what we know. 

At one point, she turned to me in frustration and asked if I had anything I could say to convince them. I remembered a story from Reader's Digest (I think) and told it to them: 

A Christian man who lived in an area prone to storms and flooding was asked by friends if he planned to evacuate ahead of the coming storm and its predicted floods. The Christian replied, "I am a Christian; I believe in God; He will protect me," and stayed in his home. The rains began and the streets began to flood. A big truck drove through the neighborhood. They stopped in front of his house and the driver called, "come on! we can get you out before your house floods!" The Christian replied, "No need! I believe God will protect me." 

The flood waters climbed higher, so much so that the man had to move upstairs. A man in a motor boat came down the street. "Come on out," he called to the man in the house. "You'll get a little wet, but I can take you to safety!" Again the man refused, invoking his belief that God would save him. 

But the rain continued to fall and the water climbed so high that the Christian had to climb out on his roof. Shortly after he had done so, a helicopter flew near. "I'll drop you a ladder! Climb up and I'll take you to dry ground." The Christian once again replied, "God will save me, but thanks anyway."

The water climbed higher and higher and the Christian drowned. Upon his arrival in heaven, he addressed God, "Father! I don't understand! I have followed you all my life! I believed that you would save me and you let me die?" God looked at the man and sighed, "My son! I sent you a truck, a boat, and a helicopter and you refused them all. What did you expect?"

After I told the story, Hammer asked one of the church leaders to summarize it in Ewe (I had told it in French). He did so, but I don't think my story was any more helpful than Karen's discussion of the science of the vaccine. Togo's official CoVid numbers are low*. Considering that the test is not widely available (at least in this area), it is not clear to me how they even come up with the numbers. At any rate, the people here may be right about not needing the vaccine. I certainly pray that they are!

*I am thanking God for that now, though. I have been looking into the travel requirements. Since I usually take Air France between here and New York (here being Africa, so I have done so twice. Does that count as usually?) I wanted to check on what I would need to pass through the airport. France has a complicated (to me) system of color coding countries. Togo happens to be on the green list due to their low numbers. That means as of February 22, I will not even need a negative test result if I have been fully vaccinated! Let's pray that the policy doesn't change. And that the US, which currently requires a test within 24 hours of departure, will change that policy. I have taken 3 CoVid tests here in Togo. I received results for only one of those, and they came three full days afterward. I fear that I would not have the results in time to travel. Hence my prayers for change!

Housework

 

My plastics for doing housework. Can you guess what they are for? Answer at the end of the post!

Plastic items abound in my part of Togo. There are containers of all shapes and sizes used for nearly every household chore. I watch the young people cook with interest, marveling to see how many plastic objects will be used in the preparation of the sauce or meat they are making. Back in November, when I spent a Saturday at the church, I watched Hélène empty her house near the property. She had an impressive collection and I remember wondering how many things I would acquire when I settled into my house. The photo above shows all but one of my cleaning plastics.

Viviane has just left after cleaning my house. She comes twice a week. Thursdays her main chore is my laundry; Sundays she dusts, washes windows, and mops. I am grateful for her work, for many reasons.

First, I feel terribly ignorant concerning how one cleans here. I would not know what equipment or products to use. I gathered my plastics based on my observations, but even so, did not have enough. Viviane added the white bucket in the front row. Karen helped me find a dust mop, mopping rags (which I use as bathroom and entry way rugs as well), and a duster. 

Second, it is slow, hard, and never-ending work. The dirt here is reddish-brown on the road and is of a sandy consistency. It makes its way into the house through the open windows and settles on every flat surface, where it turns a very dark brown. I took a picture of the dust rag after dusting just a portion of my couch and here is what was on it. I could dust everyday and get just as much dirt.

Finally, I just don't like looking at that dirt! I dust the living room furniture a couple of times a week and will dust/sweep the floor as well. But I don't like seeing the dirt that I am moving out. When Vivian mops, the water turns a very muddy brown color. Again, it is not a pleasant sight to me. A selfish reason, but I am happy to help Viviane's finances in order to indulge my selfishness. 

Explanation of containers:  The back row has my washbasins. The two large ones on the left are for laundry. The two smaller ones on the right fit in the kitchen sinks. There is no drain plug, so I have to have the basins in order to wash dishes. The front row contains the buckets. Viviane uses the blue one to hold the water for washing windows and furniture. The clear one is for mopping. The buckets may also play a role in the laundry, but I haven't seen her do my laundry so I don't know. Finally, the gray bucket on the left is one of a pair--its twin is in my bathroom, complete with the lids that came with them. They are for holding water. Now that it's the dry season, they may turn the water off from time to time. So I fill the buckets and put the lid on in order to have water for flushing toilets or washing.

Another Pleasant Vogan Sunday

 I thought I would get much more written this weekend, but yesterday (Saturday, February 19) turned into a busier day than I thought. So I will write a quick post now.

I am currently taking a brief rest after lunch. It is the hottest part of the day:  right now my weather app says that it is 90 degrees, but the heat index is 101,  so I am not alone in that activity. I am sitting in my living room with the fan pointed directly at me. Vivian has just left, so my floors, windows, and dishes are clean. 

Shortly before 3:00 I will make my way back to Hammer's to pick up passengers to go to our evening services. We will be singing some hymns and traditional songs, and the ladies will be doing traditional dances. An elderly gentleman in our congregation died a couple of weeks ago and we are rehearsing for his funeral, which will be held on March 11 (the wake) and 12th (the funeral and burial). Hammer and the other leaders of the congregation are quite concerned about our sounding and looking good, so we have been practicing since last Sunday. What that means is Sunday evening, Wednesday evening, and Thursday evening, our meetings have been given over to this activity. There was, apparently, even a practice to have been held yesterday afternoon, but no one showed up.

One of the concerns is that we have song leaders and dance leaders. Another is the drumming. The traditional songs are sung to the accompaniment of the traditional drums. The church has 3 or 4 of them, but they apparently need new heads. And our volunteer drummers are rather inexperienced. So a call has been placed to someone from a sister congregation who is skilled in drumming and another to a woman who knows the traditional songs. 

Back from the practice, where I took the picture above. I think, by the end of the evening we sounded pretty good--I say "we" but I just joined in the clap track occasionally. I took some video, but it is not loading properly. I have only managed to upload one video, and I am taking the briefest of clips--7 seconds, for example. If anyone knows what I can do to make it work, please let me know in the comments!

In the interests of full disclosure, I must admit that I had an "American vs. African" time issue again. We were supposed to meet at 3:00 and actually got started at 4:30, but that didn't last too long so that I can truthfully call it a pleasant Sunday.

P.S.  I created an album to which I will upload videos. It still takes forever to upload them, but they should be complete when they are finished.  

View videos here. 

La Toussaint

 Journal entry from November 6:

All in all the last week has been good.  I learned on Sunday afternoon that Monday was a school holiday--La Toussaint (All Saints' Day). Exciting news, because I had been longing for a free day. Of course, I still woke up around six, but I stayed in bed a little while longer than usual.

Upon arriving in the courtyard after breakfast, I learned from Tabitha that Sena was working at the farm and that he had told her I was supposed to go and watch the work. I took the short walk around the corner and then into the field. Standing and watching people hoe is not all that exciting, so I left after just a few minutes.

These two pictures of the farm were not taken on November 1, but during my visit in March. 

As I approached our compound, I greeted a group of people (as I had done throughout the walk) and one of them welcomed me to Togo. Then Godwin emerged from the café and we played catch with his handkerchief. Twice we were joined by Ruth, who was bringing boxes to the house.

After that, Hammer and I drove to the sad village so he could check on the progress of the meeting place rebuilding. Almost immediately, a group of children began to gather. They found me totally hilarious, laughing at everything I said. This was not a totally new phenomenon for me, so I asked Hammer what was so funny about my talking. He answered that they were not used to hearing French from a white person. They were also fascinated by my shoes, commenting that they were "closed." That one puzzled me for a while until I realized that practically everyone wears flip flops of various styles. Dela told me that closed shoes were considered to be dressing up.

Someone found a chair for me and the children all gathered on a bench. They stared at me and laughed. Finally, in an effort to have some kind of interaction, I sang and did the Hokey Pokey with them. They also sang for me (The Old Rugged Cross) and recited some poems they had learned in school. Hammer came back from talking to the workers, flagged down a "revendeuse" and bought the children some treats. They left to go play and eat their goodies.

A very satisfying day it was!

Miscommunication

The following is a journal entry I wrote on September 25:

Communication: sometimes it just doesn't occur with the best of accuracy here. The ladies in the Tuesday morning prayer group are all praying for my sister and her husband because I didn't make clear that it is their daughter and her family who have CoVid.  Probably because I began by talking about "my sister" rather than "my niece."

Miscommunication led to yesterday's adventure. Hammer told me at lunch that he had heard that a friend had died and that he was going to visit the family at their village. It would be about a 6-hour trip; did I want to go? Since I'm tired of sitting around the house, I accepted the invitation.

I am glad I went. Our destination, Adangbé was in a new direction, so I got to see some new towns and villages. Here is a picture of the map:

Prior to this trip, I had been only in Aného, Vogan, Togoville, Lomé, and Vo Asso. But on this day we went past Vo Asso to Tabligo and then turned off the main road there.

Some of the interesting sites were: an orphanage built by Muslims--a very nice structure--a cement plant, which werves not only all of Togo, but five other countries--Ghana, Burkina Faso, Mali, Benin, and Niger or Nigeria (I think).

Hammer had not been to the village in a while, so we stopped first at the wrong one. He asked for directions from a person he saw there. The person was going to this house.

When we arrived at Adangbe, Hammer had to ask for directions to the man's family's house. The village street was not wide enough for the truck, so I sat and watched the goats and people.

After about thirty minutes, Hammer returned with the news that his friend was still alive. It was the friend's senior (older) brother who had died. Would Hammer have gone to the village had he known the facts? I don't know, but the two men who came to the car with him seemed delighted to have seen Hammer again. And I got to see some new things. So God blessed us even with the miscommunication, as I am certain He will do when he answers the prayers of the ladies for my sister!

        

Walking to Hammer's

I live almost directly in line with Hammer's house, but two streets away, so I like to walk there sometimes. Going by car, the route that I show here is very rough, lots of bouncing! But it is the shorter way to go. One of these days I hope to feel energetic enough to take the longer way.

I exit my compound and turn left. Across the street from me is a large compound. I have met a couple who lives there and their children. Next door to me, on my left as I turn toward Hammer's is a three story building. The picture below shows the building after I passed it and I turn back to look at it.

After another compound and a little shop, I turn the corner. This street is picturesque, I think. I pass the compound below, on my right. In the late afternoon an elderly gentleman sits out by the gate. He always waves and greets me as I go by.

Across from this compound are a couple of businesses. There is a hairdresser's shop. I have to say I have never seen anyone in there. And there is a store of some kind. I can't quite figure out what is for sale in the store. And you can't really go in; you stand on the street and ask for what you want. So I probably will not do much shopping there.

        

When I reach the next corner, I turn left. Hammer's house is the first house on the right. On the corner, though, there are a couple of businesses. Directly on the corner is a combination shop that seems to sell candy and soft drinks, among other things and do hair braiding. The next to those is Godwin's mother's restaurant. It is the brown and yellow building you see in the picture below.

As I walk, I greet everyone I meet along the way. It is my way of connecting and trying to become part of the community. Sometimes, people will stop and welcome me to Togo, ask me if I like living in Vogan and what I am doing here. I thank them, respond in the affirmative, and tell them that I work with Hammer at L'Eglise de la Famille du Christ. Almost everyone is warm and welcoming. 

I don't always see someone I know as I walk, so it was a treat to see Patrick this morning as he headed to work. 

The first time I mentioned to Sena, before I moved in, that I was going to walk from Hammer's house to mine, he thought I was crazy. But, he gets excited to ride in the car, because it doesn't happen very often. However, I told him that many people in Vogan got from one place to another on foot, and I needed to do that, too. I hope to increase the distance that feels comfortable to me. I'll let you know when I take the long way to the house!

View videos of the walk here.

Cost of Living

 

I remember when I was young that someone told me it was illegal to take pictures of US Currency and that is why money in old TV shows and movies looks fake. I hope that Togo does not have such a law, but I wanted to show you the money here. Only one denomination of bill is missing--500 francs, but I think this picture shows every possible bill and coin. 

I don't have a Togolese bank account. When I talked about getting one with Karen, she told me that she had tried to open one, but the bank wanted her to give them a map to her house, which neither she nor Hammer could do. She has managed without one, so I decided to do the same. Periodically I go to the ATM and withdraw cash. Of course, I usually end up getting a pile of 10,000 franc bills. In Vogan, especially, merchants would rather not get such large bills, so part of the challenge of shopping here is knowing where you can spend large bills, where you will be able to collect small bills, and where to spend the small bills and coins.

Some of you have asked about my expenses and the cost of living here. I couldn't really tell until I moved into my house, because Hammer and Dela were paying the bills while I was staying with them.

Here is a list of my January expenses:

DATE	ITEM	AMOUNT	USD (roughly)	NOTES
01/02/2021	Electricity	20,000	40
01/06/2022	Togocel-phone	3,000	6
01/06/2022	Togocel-data	5,000	10
01/08/2022	Internet	35,000	70
01/12/2022	Gas	30,100	60.2
01/25/2022	Groceries	30,386	60.5
01/27/2022	Electricity	40,000	80	Didn't need--still had 40 kwh, but decided to get because it's the end of the month.
02/01/2022	Water	9,529	20	Bill for Sept, OCt, Nov, Dec--paid because I wanted to be sure that I would get bills in the future
	Totals	173,015	314.5727273	USD total is based on an exchange rate of 550 CFA per dollar, the actual equivalent would vary.

As you can see from my notes, I paid for electricity before I needed to do so, just to establish a monthly bill-paying schedule. The same is true for the water bill. That bill is normally delivered by hand. At the same time, the water company employee reads the meter to prepare the next bill. I was not home when my water bill got delivered, so my meter did not get read. Since the house has been empty for a few months and since there is a tank on the roof that the former resident may have used rather than the water company water, I wanted them to make sure that the water company knew that I was there and would make sure to read the meter.

The gas I bought on January 12 is still going strong. I drive only a couple of miles a day, so it doesn't get used much. That 30,000 francs filled the tank--one of Karen's hints for getting small change. Rather than just ask for 10,000 or 20,000 worth of gas, ask for them to fill it so that you can get some small bills.

The grocery expenses are not very high, because I still take a lot of my meals at Hammer and Dela's house. So the groceries I buy are things that I can fix for myself in the evening when I don't want to be out after dark. There will be posts in the future explaining that.

If these figures hold true for the month of February, I will be spending roughly $300/month to live here. Rent is not a monthly expense, as you see. That was paid in advance when I signed the lease. Were I to be paying monthly, the total for the month would be 243,015, or $441.84. 

Some of you who asked about my expenses did so with the thought of helping support my work here. Should you wish to participate in the mission by donating to my support, you may send contributions to the financial person at my church at this address:

Ward Parker

c/o University Church of Christ

100 Crestline Boulevard

Greenville, NC 27834\

Make the check out to the church and put my name in the memo line.  Any donations are greatly appreciated.

As you can see from the list, some items cost about the same as they do in the US. Home internet, for example. I pay Suddenlink slightly less than what I am paying for that here. Gasoline is also roughly the same price. It cost 505 francs per liter, which is roughly $3.47 per gallon. Knowing that salaries are much lower here, I wonder sometimes how the Togolese manage to make a living. Only the wealthiest could afford to pay for Internet access in their homes. Most people have a data plan for their cell phones. They may visit one of the wifi hot spots around town if they want to work on a laptop, but they would still pay a fee for that. 

As for gas, one of the teachers at the school has been telling me what a hard time he has supporting his family. He makes 35,000 francs a month, but spends nearly 20,000 a month on gas, since he lives in one of the outlying villages. 

I am grateful that the Lord has bountifully provided for me. I don't live a life of luxury either here or in the US, but it has been a long time (since student days) since I have faced financial insecurity. What a blessing!

Leaving my compound

 Just a quick post today to show you what it takes for me to get out of my compound if I want to go anywhere by car. I find the procedure rather tiring, so I usually take the car out only once a day. You will see how to get out in the pictures that follow. I took some videos so you could live the process in real time, but, after spending at least an hour waiting for them to upload, I found that they wouldn't play, so you'll have to imagine the time passing. 

There are three bolts to the gate.  One at the top:

One in the middle:

and one at the bottom:

The gates open outwards. The one on my left will stay open by itself, but the one on the right will not, so I have a big rock sitting just inside the gate that I use to hold it open for backing out or pulling in.

I back out and try to park the car out of the street. Usually that involves pulling forward to park in front of the gate of the house next door. At first that was okay, because it was empty, but the owner and his brothers are back in town, so I risk inconveniencing them.

Then I go back in through the gate and reverse the process: pick up the rock and put it where it belongs, pull the gates shut, and throw all the bolts. I always check to make sure that I can't push the gate open. I found out just a couple of weeks ago that the bottom and top bolts are only for the left panel (I should have figured that out before, but hadn't really thought about it.) So that means the middle bolt is all that is keeping the right door closed. The door handle that you see above the middle bolt does not lock. The two panels of the gate are not in line, so the lock on the right panel won't go into the hole on the left. Once I have tested the gate, I go out the pedestrian gate to the outside (a post on that is forthcoming), jump in my car, and head out.

If a man is in the street, he may come to try to help me with the gates. Although I appreciate the sentiment, I confess I wish they wouldn't. One reason is that I don't want them to know the situation of the locks that I mentioned above. The second reason is that I am never sure that there is not another agenda driving them. I have had someone help me and then ask for money. Not my favorite conversation.

On days when I go to school during the day and church in the evening, I have two options to avoid re-entering the compound. At first I would just leave the car at Hammer's and walk to my house until time for church. But now I occasionally will just pull right up to the gate and leave the car outside. 

I've never had a garage. Those of you that do--pause for a moment of appreciation when you push the button for your garage door opener! 

View videos of me opening the gate here.

Disciplining Children

 Another area where cultural differences show themselves frequently. Since the "children" at Hammer and Dela's house are ages 13 and up, most of my experience of this topic comes from the correction and punishment of the kids at school.

I learned today (February 1) one thing that apparently does not show up in disciplining children at home. The teacher decided that the kindergartners needed to be able to introduce themselves, so she was having them come to the front of the class and tell their whole name. They worked long ago on asking for and giving their first name (in fact, for several weeks it was the only thing they knew how to say to me, so I had to answer that question hundreds of times a day. I started telling them that my name was one of the other kids in the class, which they found uproariously funny), and they recognize their whole name, because the teacher calls the roll each morning using that. However, many of them had a hard time giving their whole name. As they struggled, I thought that their mothers must not have done like many American ones, calling a child by first, middle, and last name when they were in trouble. "Chris Janine Moore, you get in here right now!" Or maybe they're so well-behaved that they don't hear that, but I doubt it.

Just another aside--here, as in many places other than the US, one gives one's last name first. That makes it quite difficult for me, because the last names here are long with lots of syllables, so it's hard for me to tell when one is over and I'm hearing the first name. 

School discipline falls into two categories: behavior towards others and school performance. The preferred punishments differ according to the category. On the playground or in class, if a teacher witnesses misbehavior, he (most of the teachers are men; only the kindergarten and the first-grade teachers are women) calls out, "Hey!" That alone usually puts a stop to unruly actions. He may tell the children involved to go sit under the tree or somewhere else. If a child comes up to a teacher complaining of another child's improper behavior (and I'm afraid that we Americans would consider these children terrible tattle-tales, because they tell on each other a lot), the teacher sends that child to find the miscreant and bring him or her to him. And they do! The teacher listens to both sides of the story, and the misbehaver gets his punishment:  frequently, he or she is told to draw a circle in the dirt and stand there until the teacher says he can move. Another punishment might be to pick up the leaves on the playground until the teacher says the child can stop and go back to playing. I am always amazed because it works.

The little girl came to the teacher complaining about the boy's behavior. The teacher listened, gave the boy a scolding, and sent the two on their separate ways.

In a different incident, these two kindergarten boys were sent to sit under the tree. A third boy, who was also involved, got sent to a different tree. They were crawling around in the dirt, pretending their shoes were cars, occasionally breaking into a run. There are not many leaves on the ground, so I may have missed someone getting "sentenced" to picking them up. I eat my lunch in isolation, since whoever is cooking for me usually sends a variety of food, including Coke, that the kids do not get to eat often. As a consequence, I miss the first 20 minutes of recess.

School performance punishment usually involves "le bâton" (the switch). Even the older kids can be at the receiving end of it. Usually, the inattentive or unprepared student receives a swat on the palm of the hand. More serious offenses merit a swat on each hand. If the child withholds his hand or withdraws it at the last minute, the swats increase in number or severity. In the middle school, there may be only one baton--today (February 2), for example, a student from another grade came to the 7th grade class to collect it. Then, once the French teacher and I had moved on to the 8th grade, he sent a student to go collect it so that he could use it on someone. That student behaved more as I would expect:  he came back saying he couldn't find it. If the bâton is not handy, the French teacher may use his knuckles on a student's head to get his point across. 

In kindergarten, the students may get the bâton or a thump on the head if they are not paying attention or if they can't recite the lesson, which, it is assumed, is the result of inattention on the part of the students. Occasionally, they are shamed or taunted for their poor academic performance. Tata will repeat what the student said or did and ask the children if that was the right answer. She will go on to ask if it is good to do as the student did. Occasionally, she gives an order which I still can't decipher, and all of the kids leave their chairs, swarm around the unsuccessful student with their backs turned to him or her. They clutch their buttocks and bend over as if they are passing gas or defecating. After a few seconds, the teacher sends them back to their places. Recently, when one of the students offered several unsuccessful attempts to count to 8, the teacher started a chant with the rest of the class:  "Tu ne sais pas compter. Apprends à compter!" (You don't know how to count. Learn to count!)

Of those punishments, only sending the child to sit under the tree or to pick up leaves would probably be acceptable in an American school. And, certainly, punishing a child for not knowing an answer would not happen. However, I occasionally wonder about that. I would think that the children here would learn that they have a job to do while they are in school. They need to pay attention and try to remember the information so that they can answer correctly.

Occasionally I have had occasion to deal with misbehaving children. I have to admit that it is only in the past two weeks or so that I have had any kind of success with that. Even now, it is only the kindergartners who will obey me.

At first, every child I tried to correct thought that it was a huge joke. I suspect that the language barrier played a role in that. Although school is conducted in French, my French sounds different from the local variety, so it must have been akin to Charlie Brown's teacher. Especially as I would get frustrated when they didn't obey. One day I was trying to keep children out of the kindergarten class during the lunch hour. We had a couple of students napping and older kids were coming in to play with the toys. I ended up closing and locking the doors of the church from the inside to keep them out. Another day, there was a group of girls (3rd to 5th grade, perhaps) sitting on the edge of the baptistry, which is outdoors above ground. I told them to leave, as I had heard Dela and others do so in earlier days. They would go away briefly and then return. I began to get angry because then the kindergartners began trying to climb up and sit on the edge. The next time the group of girls ran away, one left her uniform shirt behind, so I picked it up and told the girls that I was going to talk to the director about their behavior. They followed me, begging for me to return the shirt and not speak to the director, but I continued. I explained the situation to the director and told him that what was most upsetting to me was that the girls seemed to think they did not have to do what I had told them. He assured me that he would handle it, gathered all the girls together, gave them a talking to, and put them to work picking up leaves.

I expect that many of the older kids still would disobey me, but I have made some progress on keeping the kindergartners in line. Occasionally the teacher will leave the room. If it's just to make copies, I don't usually do much of anything, but if it stretches to longer than 3 or 4 minutes, the kids start getting out of their chairs and running around. I could even handle that--they are, after all, little and active. Invariably, though, a physical altercation breaks out or someone falls. One day there were about six children crying because of that. I can't seem to make them see that, if they would obey the rules they wouldn't get hurt. So on that day, I grabbed the switch and started using it, telling people to sit. And swatting them if they didn't do so immediately. So then I had kids crying because of that. However, they finally settled down. I think the really effective action was swatting my favorite little guy when he deliberately did something I had told him not to do. It broke my heart, but hat quieted them all and they tend to act as they are supposed to now--as long as I have the switch! Teddy Roosevelt was right!

Circumcision

 

Some of the little boys I know and have come to love. My heart goes out to them!

Perhaps another topic for which I should apologize, but it, too, has been pushed into my field of consciousness due to circumstances at church and at school.

I was surprised to learn that boys are not circumcised at birth as a matter of course here. Normally I don't know that I would have had occasion to learn that fact, but one of the little boys at church was recently circumcised. When he arrived at church soon after that event (I can't remember if it was a Sunday morning or one of the evening meetings), he did not come to greet me or hang on Dela's lap until she gave him some candy. On the contrary, when Dela gestured to him, he sort of whimpered and followed his mother to her seat. Dela told me that he had been circumcised and was still clinging to his mother because of it.

Within a couple of weeks, the topic came up again. One of the kindergarten boys was absent. On his second day of absence, the teacher told me that he had had "une incision." The expression on her face though, and her gesture "southwards" led me to believe that he, too, had just been circumcised. His absences continued. A few days afterwards, she was asking the children who was not at school that day. When they mentioned Joe, all the boys started snickering and making hacking motions toward each others' genital area. (I don't know how they found out; if "Tata" told them, I missed it.) The teacher told them not to laugh; that they would be experiencing the same thing eventually. That didn't really phase them, though.

I asked Karen if she knew the custom here and she did not. She said that, in Uganda, where she lived before, circumcision was part of the rite of passage into adulthood. Therefore she was familiar with it occurring at about age 12. When I told her about the boys I knew, she was quite surprised and sympathetic. According to her--and she's a nurse--it's a terrible age for the procedure. A four- to five- year-old boy is old enough to experience the pain but not old enough to understand why it is happening, so that would make it worse, she thought. I do know that Joe was out of school for two weeks. He came back this week, but he's still quite sensitive about it all. As the children changed from their uniforms into their PE clothes, it was revealed (they just do that at their seats) that he had not worn underwear. The boys were looking and making remarks, and Joe tried to cover himself with his hands. Poor little guy!

I definitely need to do further research on the customs here. Stay tuned for further developments!