Hello all! Sorry for the delay, but the electricity was out
yesterday, so I was not able to get online. So today, I'm posting Day 3 and 4. Here is Day 3 of a Week in My Life.
Welcome to my TUESDAY!
6:30: a.m.- If you have been reading then you know the drill
by now, 6:30 donkey alarm clock, get ready for school and head off to save the
world. Today the Bruma seka has dispersed
a bit and I can see the ocean as I walk to school for the first time in days!
Some of my 7th graders |
7:30 am-1pm – Today is a busy day at school. I teach all of
my 7th and 8th grade English classes, and as usual the
day is full of highs and lows. The lows being the usual behavior problems bound
to happen when you pack 35, 45, or even 50 rambunctious, and often hungry,
teenagers into one classroom and expect them to sit and learn for six hours
straight (they only have 5 minute breaks between each 50 minute class). The
students don’t change classrooms for the entire 6 hours, and do to the use of
corporal punishment up until 6th grade, they have a hard time
listening to anyone without a stick. Also contributing to the madness that is 7th
and 8th grade today is the fact that this is the last week before a
two week feria (break) for Festa São
Filipe, so as you can imagine, focus levels were not at their highest
today. The day was not lost however, and in perspective the majority of my
students behaved great! I taught food vocabulary and phrases using “how much”
to my 8th graders. Then, using paper food and money we set up a mock
market and students took turns selling and buying, using their new vocabulary. Seventh
graders learned frequency adverbs (always, usually, sometimes, rarely, never)
and modes of transportation. As students
wrote example sentences on the board, I looked up to see, “We usually go by car
to school and always love teacher Szasha.” A strange sentence yes, but I
appreciated the gesture, however genuine it was.
Tamarind trees on the walk home |
1pm- School’s out! I walk home with my students who are
going the same way and we run into some of my 6th grade students
under my favorite tamarind tree. As we all relish in the shade and pick the now
drying tambarinas, I find out that
the primary school, where I teach 6th grade English, has started
their break a week early. That means that I won’t be teaching again this
afternoon. Usually Tuesday is my longest day as I teach from 7:30 am-1pm and
then again from 4pm-6pm, but today I’m free for the afternoon!
Freshly picked Tambarinas! |
1:30p.m.- I txiga (arrive)
at my house and notice that my neighbor is wearing a fancy, black blouse, and I
immediately know that she is going to a funeral or to visit the family of
someone who has died. As we exchange greetings, she explains to me that a friend
of her family from a much greener zone farther up the mountain has passed away
today. It turns out that I also know the woman, as I had accompanied my
neighbor to her house several times. She was one of the kindest, friendliest,
and most adorable old women I have ever met, so I decide to go with my neighbor
to the visita.
2pm-5pm – These three hours are spent at the visita. I will do my best to depict the
experience for you, but the raw emotion and sadness of the situation is truly
indescribable. After catching a ride in
a packed car and driving the 15 minutes or so up the winding mountain road, we
arrive at the house. The wails of sadness can be heard as we approach, and as
we enter the house, the sorrow is deafening.
Chairs line the wall of the tiny house, all of them full of sobbing mourners
who have come to pay their respects. Unlike the American tradition of “a moment
of silence”, Cape Verdeans mourn their dead in a highly vocal manner, through
sorrowful, haunting wailing. The wailing, a loud exasperated expression of
grief, is like a sad, sad, emotionally charged song expressing the mourner’s
misery, frustration, and respect for the dead. Its sound is unmistakable and
although full of misery and sadness, it is also beautiful.
As I enter the house, hands reach out for me,
I am embraced in tear-filled hugs, and as I move around the room offering my
greeting and condolences to each mourner as is expected of me, I see one of my
students across the room. Her grandmother
died while she was at school today, and her face is tear-stained and
hysterical. I immediately go to her, holding her as she rocks back and forth
wailing “Vovo, Vovo, Vovo” (Grandmother,
Grandmother, Grandmother). As I stand up
to pay my respects to other mourners, she clings to me, so I stay- holding her
while she cries and feeling unstoppable tears stream down my face as well. At the far end of the packed, tear and sweat
filled house, two candles illuminate the women’s body, resting as if sleeping
in her bed. Her age-worn, wisdom-filled face is peaceful and it seems like she
may wake up at any moment. However, the never ceasing wailing, the wetness of
my student’s tears upon my shoulder, and the eeriness of the two flickering
candles remind me that, no, this kind women, a friend to so many in my
community has passed.
A constant stream of mourners find
their way to the house, as news of the woman’s death has spread quickly
throughout the island. The wailing, although never ceasing, continues in waves
of quieter sobbing and bursts of fresh mourning as new friends and family
members arrive. I am in awe at the sheer emotion present in the house and in
the forcefulness of the expression of sorrow and respect I am witnessing. Aside
from visitas which last for the week
of the death, a funeral service is also conducted and is repeated after one
month, after three months, after six months, and yet again after a full year
has passed. Furthermore, the family
members of the dead are expected to wear only black clothing for a designated
time depending on your relation to the deceased. Siblings or children of the
dead will wear only black for six months, and widows will never wear a piece of
colored clothing again. Traditionally they even cover their heads in black
scarves, a tangible, everyday remembrance of those who have gone.
The view from the visita |
5pm- After three hours, we catch a car back down the
mountain. I am emotionally drained and in reverence of the sadness and beauty
of what I have experienced. When I get
home, I take a cold bucket bath then sit with my neighbors and help shell their
beans. I make plans to go with my 11 year old neighbor (and one of my best
friends) to see her baby goats tomorrow, and start to cheer up.
6- 7:30pm.-I grade some papers and make dinner. Tonight’s
dinner is jegasida (steamed, coarsely ground corn which is almost the consistency of cous-cous)
with beans, kale and fish. For dessert, I have a slice of fresh papaya my
neighbor has given me, and some mango juice.
Dinner |
8-10p.m.-I spend some time reflecting on the day AKA writing
this blog, lesson planning, and cleaning up my cooking mess.
10p.m.-I am exhausted and somehow sunburnt as usual, so I
head to bed. Durmi Dretu!
Thanks for reading!
Love,
Szasha
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