Students everywhere

Epeli Hauofa:  Epeli was one of the finest writers from the Pacific.  His 'Tales of the Teakong' is an excellent collection of interrelated stories, that reveals the wisdom in the otherwise seemingly futile relaxed way of approaching life.  When I was looking for pictures to put up on this post, I saw him. Thought it is a good way to honor him.  Mr. Hauofa passed away in 2008, leaving a long legacy of words that brought the Pacific to the world.

USP students: I got this picture from the net. I will replace it with one that I took later.  This is just to give a glimpse of homogeneity of student body...around the world. Students in Fiji are no different today than anywhere else.  They come in all sizes, and shapes, causal and formal, traditional and forward. 

In Fiji I started to keep random notes on my experience in the country.  I never published anything, but collected quite a few of these.  The sad thing is that this movement and so much of 'having to learn' with all these moves, I have had a hard time concentrating and writing.  Something has snapped in me and I cannot focus or create with the same ease.  May be I will get back to it, sometime.  But here is one example of how I would recollect events and write them to share with my friends. 

The following was written sometime late 2006. 

STUDENTS EVERYWHERE

Well, so you ask yourself, when you are a teacher…Why did I choose this?

No question, really.  One does it because one loves books, loves to read, loves researching….but also enjoys little pay, long hours, and not necessarily that many rewards.

Really, Gluttons for punishment!!

But to tell you the truth  I love it.  I love teaching. I love universities, I enjoy libraries, and I love the silliness that you can find on all campuses and schools.  There is a reason that movies about school and college days have remained popular throughout the heavy emphasis on sex, violence and digital effects.

I have often said, teaching is my religion.  And the days I do not teach I am Jedi.  The days I am too weak to hold the Jedi sword, I become a Hindu, chanting mantras. (Ok, Ok, Mantras are more powerful than a sword...I know.)

I love the silliness and the innocence of campuses. Research and all are good for profession, career and mind.  But the best part about being a teacher is that semester after semester we get to be part of young adults, and all the freshness they live with.  Like doctors, we talk, learn and heal.  We, the teachers, are soul doctors. Whether, our students acknowledge that or not, we become the background that they use to borrow and steal examples from.  I seriously think that we influence them more than TV.

Now, what is to follow is not that profound.  Not anything spectacular but just an example of how the minds of 18-22 year olds work on the same tracks—all over the world.

Yesterday was our last class for the semester.  I was wrapping things up.  As always I had a few stories planned.  I always do that, so that my students will at least remember the story and get something from it.

We were talking about what we learn at universities.  Not the content, but the process.

There were about 11 of us in the class.  I could hear a little rustling sound.  It was coming from S’s end.  She was fidgeting with something in her purse.

A little about S-  She is this brainy, ultra intelligent Indo-Fijian, who is also a muslim.  Sometime ago, she decided to wear the Hijab.  The head covering that muslim girls wear. She wants to a writer.  On media freedom day on May 3^rd, she received a special mention for creativity for her poem on how media can help in alleviating poverty.

But here is the clincher, she also knows the most about western popular music.  All the words, all the singers, and all the bands.

So, as I am speaking very seriously about university life, and how to make the best of it, I see E looking very seriously at S’s purse and then at her.

“What, you got condoms in there?” a response to the rustling sound.

S nods very seriously and mouths, “Yes, condoms.”

I stop mid sentence.  “E, did you just ask S if she had condoms in her purse?”

“Yeah.”

E, it could be anything, a chocolate, a toffee, why a condom?

The class laughed.  S smiled her gentle smile and excused herself as she had to step outside the classroom for a few minutes. (she had to get Panadol—like Tylenol).

“That’s because E has a one track mind” said the class, almost in unison.

“No, that is the first thing that popped into my head” explained E.

“That’s because you have a one track mind.”

“Whatever” says E with her perpetual, glorious smile.

A little about E.  She got the award for best feature stories last year at the Journalism awards.  She is this beautiful girl who usually gets asked, ‘So where are you from?’  She is part Chinese, Gilbertese (from Kiribati) and part Scottish and part English.  But that is not what you notice about her the first time you meet her.  It is her fiery personality and her ability to add drama to the most mundane of things.  She and I have had many conversations of ‘America and its Politics.’  She seems to know more than I, so I have not been able to convince her that there may be some good in some parts of American Foreign Policy.

“You know” I add my wisdom, “In the US they are called rubbers, and my first American friends taught me that I should never call an eraser a rubber.”

“Yeah, we call it that too, but that is what an eraser is, a rubber, you rub things on your books with it” shrugged E, matter-of-factly.

Half the class was still giggling because of the topic of conversation.

I started talking about the final quiz that they were taking in a few minutes.

“Guys let me tell you how to work on the multiple choice test if you want to pass” said E with conviction, “Leave the eenie meenie……go for Jesus told me to choose this one.”

Nods and giggles, because of most of them acknowledged that they had read only half of the 14 articles on the exam.

S walked back into the room.  As she sat on her chair, E asked with a genuine concern, “So, do you have a rubber for your exam?”  The class drowned in another round of laugher.

April Showers Bring May Flowers

Yes, but does April snow bring cherry blossoms?  May be--but that is what happens in Sweden. Every year April is the most unpredictable month.  End of march we got some really sunny days and wearing a jacket was too warm. 

However today, April 5th, 2012.  This is what happened mid-day.  

I quickly put on my jacket to capture the magic.  It does not last very long in April, but it is still magical.  

Last year when we got snow in May, I remember looking at this shrub in my neighbor's yard and thinking we had new white flowers.  Until I realized that it was snow. 

Here is a close up of a new bud--blurred-- and in the background is the fresh, wet, light and white snow.

Right under the snow is a very fine carpet of moss growing.  The ground is not as hard as it was in winter.  But here we are, enjoying nature's whims.  She decides to change her mood.  And we must bow in joy. 

How can one be joyful, when the breeze is biting, and trees are roaring as they sway in the wind?

Well, as I was thinking that I started to walk around my neighborhood.  And not only did I find above and following pictures of a quietness and sensed that many adults are not paying attention to this beauty--.  I heard, lively laughter.  

I started to follow the chuckles.  At first it seemed like kids were snowboarding.  There were screams and screeches. But then I arrived at the house that is two houses down. 

And through the fence I could see two little kids throwing snow at each other, and laughing in joy, just children in India and Fiji play in the rain, or children in Botswana in the dust, the children in Sweden call snow their friend.  Their parents cover them up and let them play in the snow.  Two days ago, when it was quite sunny, I saw boys playing hide and seek.  I stood mesmerized for a while.  I have not seen that in a long time.  In US, or India or even Fiji.  But I recognized how much children crave the freedom of the outdoors. 

I know these boys.  I talk to them whenever I can, but am limited by my Swedish.  'Vad spelar du?" means 'What are you playing?"  I have asked them that specific question at least 20 times in the last year. But until my Swedish gets better, the conversation cannot go further.  But here, notice with what joy they recognize me.  That made my day. 

Don't laugh at my Swedish. It is taking so much longer to get there.  So, the next question usually is, 'Hur gamlan?" How old are you?  I have asked that before too.  He answers "fem' for both, meaning 'Five'.  I asked if they both are Five.  Yes, they answer.  Ar du compisar? eller broder? Are you friends or brothers.  Compisar--friends. 

Vanta, Vanta, (Wait, Wait).....

I try my best you know....to speak Swedish. 

He peeked through the fence and caught me off guard....but what joy!!

And the fun continued.  I returned home filled with joy.  Grateful for this snow, sort of untimely, but more grateful for those untouched, simple spirits that made me say, 'Its another day to live'

Have a lovely day!!