028. i could

 

recommended listening: "I'm so lonesome, I could cry," by the cowboy junkies

 

12:30 a.m., and I’m sitting in the courtyard again. Another beer.

“Still up?” she asks.

“Can’t sleep.”

“Troubles?”

“Not really. Language. God. Stuff like why do businesses see the problem of language acquisition by always asking, ‘Why can’t you do it faster?’ instead of asking, ‘Why does it happen at all?’ And why do philosophies see pain as the abnormality instead of seeing that happiness is what really needs an explanation.”

“You’re a pessimist. Come to bed.”

“A realist. Soon.”

2:00 a.m. Caleb crawls into bed with us because of bad dreams. He kicks and talks in his sleep until four, when I hear the toilet bubble. The toilet runs from the same pipes as the radiator. When temperatures rise, there’s a 24-hour gas surplus in the neighborhood system. If you don’t manually turn down the gas during that period, your hot-water heater and radiator become dangerously hot. If you don’t catch it soon enough, the radiator system goes dry and the toilet water starts to boil. Half an hour later, I’m back in bed.

5:30, and it’s up for some time with God and correspondence. Email hasn’t been working for two weeks, so I go to a friends’ home, download thirty or fifty messages, write responses in early mornings, and go back to the friends’ home the next week to post them.

7:30, I make breakfast for the kids while Lauren gets ready. One more day’s worth of coffee left, but we’re expecting Christmas packages next week. Bread and jam Sunday to Friday. Saturdays, it’s French toast. A box of cereal here costs fifteen-hours’ of local carpenter’s wages. I know there’s no sense in thinking of economics like that, but I still do.

8:30-9:30, walk to school. Never the same route or time. Don’t be a soft target.

9:00, Jan arrives to watch the kids while Lauren has the morning for language study. At 2:00, she has a driver for a couple hours for the weekly shopping. By 5:30, we’ll be home again.

These days, though, I’m on a language-study hiatus because of crises at the English school. The university that sponsors our work here is now under a major audit by the national taxing authorities. Since the English school gives the university half of its tuition, we’re being audited, too. The local equivalent of the State Department is investigating us to see if we’re providing enough direct humanitarian aid to justify our existence in the country. The local Department of Education has decided to investigate our curriculum, testing, and student services policies to see if they conform with their standards and if the we falls under its jurisdiction or under the jurisdiction of the local Department of Homeland Security. The local Department of Homeland Security is sending investigators to interview students and staff every day to make sure that there is no discussion of religion, politics, or economics occurring at the school.

Joey’s gone. The company his brother works for offered him a job. Sunday was his last day. He said that his brother and he agreed that all of the best memories of their lives were directly related to the English school. But, this new job pays a hundred dollars a month, and he needs to be able to support a family before he can marry Rachel. We talk a lot.

His father’s one of the university officials being investigated. One of the leading theories is that Marsha’s death was related to the university investigations. No matter how you look at it, our friendship isn’t a strategic bonus.

I just realized, too late, that I forgot to fill out a purchase order for toilet paper, and the teachers need ink for the printers, but all of the non-teaching employees are busy translating documents required for audits, so no one’s available to go to the bazaar.

The afternoon classes are about to begin, and no one can find the master keys for the classrooms.

There’s a nicely-dressed man in the lobby who wants to see me. Apparently, the Highway Department now owns our building. “Oh, and congratulations on making this place look so good. This will be a great lobby for us.”

One of the local teachers needs to talk about how to handle a student who keeps correcting her English and using words she doesn’t know.

Have you found the master keys yet? Nope. Classes begin in twenty minutes. I know.

The janitor didn’t come in today. Postpone that paragraph of translation; we need this mess in the hall cleaned up before the break in classes. And while you’re at it, run to the bazaar. Urgent.

The computer network is down and the system administrator is out of the country until Thursday.

Another nicely dressed man in the lobby is waiting to talk. He’s from the university. He wants to add two special English courses, one for honors students at the college and one for professors, beginning Thursday. Politely explain that the school doesn’t have the teachers or rooms to do that. “You’re not teaching a class. They would love a native-English speaker. It’s only four hours in the classroom every day. And there’s plenty of room: use the floor below.” Ask whether the Highway Department actually own the building. All I understand from the following rant is, “They always say that!” The Nicely-dressed Man slams the door as he leaves. The students standing around look impressed. One shakes my hand. I just led a coup, but I’m not sure who I overthrew.

They just found the master keys.

I’m home by seven.

We read stories, and wrestle with the kids, and have a snack. I eat supper after the kids are in bed while watching a movie for language practice.

11:30, try to sleep, but can’t stop feeling like I’m being watched.

It all started because American guests will be here in five days. They’re TV junkies. Without cable, they’ll have two to five choices, depending on time of day: the local music video channel, the interviews with happy people, and the Soviet movie channel, and possible duplication of any of the above. The problem is that foreigners aren’t allowed to register for cable TV, so The Baron has to place the call.

He said he’d do it last August. Maybe this time he’ll follow through.