"What the hell is 'polyphonic'?"
I won't say who asked me this, but I will say that the question was asked while I was in Sighnaghi with James and Katherine. The three of us were hanging out in our hotel reading (and critiquing) the horribly over-written Sighnaghi town web site, looking for suggestions on what we should see while there. The description of Georgian culture contained a reference to its "polyphonic singing." And that prompted the question.....
"Polyphonic" means many sounds that harmonize. In its strictest sense, it refers to music that has multiple, independent melodies that harmonize with each other. I think it can also cover 4-part harmony. Easy enough to understand for anyone with a church or school choir background -- SATB (soprano, alto, tenor, bass -- or..... "Sing After The Beat," as my dad used to say...). Traditional Georgian music has harmonizing parts that are considered polyphonic, thus the reference to it on the web site.
While in Sighnaghi, the three of us went to a monastery to look around. This word was in the back of my mind as we quietly explored the grounds of the complex. A path led to the holy spring; it was long and a little treacherous, but I wanted to see the spring, so I followed the snowy, icy stairs/trail to the bottom of the ravine and the spring. While walking in the woods alone, I became aware of all the sounds around me -- and the thought came to me that Spring is a polyphonic season. In the woods I could hear the snow sliding off the tree branches and hitting the ground with a slushy, heavy thud. In other places the snow was melting off the trees with a drip, drip, drip that punctuated the sound of the falling snow. The water from the spring ran out of the rock in a musical gurgle that formed its own melody in time with the snow's sounds.
In Shamgona, Spring is a few weeks ahead of much of the rest of the country, and the sounds of the changing season have multiplied and grown in intensity. While soaking up some much-needed sunshine today, I made a list of the sounds that I noticed....
New birds have brought new songs with them. These new songs sprout from happiness for the warm sunshine. (At least, that's what they say to me!)
The breeze in the palm fronds -- a dry rattle that, if I closed my eyes, just might convince me that I'm on the beach in Puerto Rico.....
Thirteen new piglets emit tiny squeals as they try to build their pig pile higher and higher. Grunts and squeals -- an octave or two higher than their mother's -- announce to the world that life is new and exciting.
The hens who are sitting on eggs cluck softly to their growing chicks, assuring them that the snow has gone for good.
Roosters chase the hens (who aren't sitting on eggs) all over the yard. Both squawk as they participate in the "catch-me-if-you-can" game of mating-tag.
Children who have been set free from the confines of their kitchens run and play with awakened vitality.
The hello-"beep" of the police truck seems to have a softer quality than it did all winter long.
Even the rusted metal gate to the cemetery scrapes against its post in the breeze with a restored belief in life outside its borders.
Is there any season as obvious as Spring? Spring makes itself known to every sense, and I love being close enough to it all to notice the changes and revel in them. Life is being renewed. The world is waking up. The layers of independent melodies that harmonize with each other as the world celebrates its reality and renewal are music to my ears.
Pause and listen -- there's music everywhere.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Monday, March 14, 2011
Film Day
I was thankful to see the sun when I woke up this morning. The village is beautiful in the sunlight, and I wanted the film crew to have a the best face of Shamgona. It is a place that I have grown to love, and the sun shows the signs of spring that are breaking out of the hold that winter has had on the area for months.
On my way to school, I wondered how this day would go -- What would they want to film? What would they ask me? How long would they be around? How many people and cameras would show up? Who was making this thing? Where would it be shown? I like knowing the plan, and there was no plan. That made me a little edgy, but I knew that Lika would be really nervous, so I down-played my edginess and tried to be relaxed.
When I got to school, the experience was almost like my first day there back in November -- everyone was dressed in their best, with their hair freshly washed or cut, standing outside to watch for the film crew to arrive. A buzz of anticipation filled the air. I had no idea when the they would arrive. Waiting is bad, but waiting for something I don't really want is the worst.
They weren't there when first period began, nor when second period began. Lika and I taught our first two classes without interruption. We had a break from teaching then, and we wrote our lesson plan for the class we teach together tomorrow and then went over what we would do in the 8th-grade class later on today. We had just finished our work when word was delivered that the film crew had arrived.
I was so relieved to see only one journalist and one cameraman. No lights. No three-ring circus. Thank God.
The journalist, Rusiko introduced herself to Lika and me and told us that she wanted to film an entire class, not just a few minutes of one. We told her that we had one more class to teach. Lika was a little apprehensive to have the 8th-graders be the class to be filmed -- they can be a handful -- the class is very large -- and not all the boys participate. She suggested that we reteach the 5th-grade class that we had already had earlier in the morning and film them. That class is very quiet with excellent students. I immediately curtailed that idea -- I knew that the 8th graders would be a more lively group for the camera. I assured Lika that the class would be fine and we could handle it. She wasn't so sure, but she agreed.
The cameraman and Rusiko went into the classroom first so they could get set up. Lika and I stood in the hallway waiting for the okay to go in and begin. What a nerve-wracking moment. I've always said that teaching is like being on stage -- from the moment the bell rings, the teacher is "on" -- now having a camera "on" as well..... We breathed deeply at the signal to enter and dove in.
As I had anticipated, the students were wonderful. I did most of the talking for the duration of the class with Lika's support in translating when clarification was needed, in monitoring work, answering questions, and expanding on what I said.
The topic of the unit we are looking at right now is all about the arts. They had learned the words "artist," "composer," writer," "poet," "architect," and "sculptor" last week. I had made sets of cards that went together in a group -- one with the word ("poet"), one with a definition of what that person does, and a third with the name of a famous poet (writer, artist, etc.) that the students know. After we had reviewed the topic and the words briefly, I explained (with Lika's help) what we were going to do: Lika and I would give each student a card, and they had to find the other two who completed their group -- one title, one name, one description. They were supposed to use only English, which didn't happen, but it was a great exercise anyway! The cameraman had a blast catching shots of the students milling around looking for their partners. I was glad to have had an interactive lesson ready for today.
When class was over, Lika and I left the room to Rusiko to interview some of the students. She also interviewed Lika and our school director, and then filmed Lika and I working together in the teachers' room. Before leaving school, our school director invited the guests to the suphra that the ladies had prepared. We ate a little and talked about the film. Thankfully no tamada ("toast-master") was elected and no toasts were given. We were able to eat a bit and then head to the house for more filming.
Rusiko wanted to film me on my normal walk home from school. Classes were just finishing, so I was able to walk home with the students that I often accompany. We chatted about the day and their homework while the camera was rolling. It's tough to be natural with a camera pointed in one's direction -- especially for the students.
Halfway home, Rusiko stopped me to put a mic on me and to interview me while continuing to the house. I had a hard time paying attention to the questions because I was watching the cameraman who was in front of us walking backwards. He kept almost stepping in cow droppings and puddles -- he did hit a couple of puddles, but I warned him of a massive pile of fresh droppings just in time. One of the hazards of village-life.
That was one of the things that Rusiko wanted me to talk about -- village life and how I have adapted to it. We also talked about Georgian culture, how I am able to deal with living on the border of the conflict zone, and of course, the educational system. I talked so much today, I have a hard time remembering everything she asked me -- much of what we focused on was the project that I am a part of: Teach and Learn with Georgia (TLG). Once Tea joined the conversation when we got to the house, we were able to jointly express our concerns about the present system, our hopes for the future one, and our opinions of whether or not TLG's initiative is really going to make a difference in the country. One of the biggest concerns that Rusiko and others have is the vast number of TLG "teachers" who are not trained teachers. Native English speakers, yes -- but not teachers. Tea and I think that it would be fine if all the Georgian English teachers were good teachers who already had Western methods down pat. But that is not the case. My teachers and I seem to be an exception to the norm -- I am a teacher, and my two co-teachers are good teachers who are open to changes and readily implement new methods that I model for them. But in many schools across the country, such a combination is rare. Rusiko was quite surprised to find the above-average teaching environment that exists here in Shamgona. Surprised and pleased.
At the house, they filmed Tea and I in the kitchen serving up some fresh, hot hominey (sort of like polenta), Elene and I practicing some Georgian dance, and me working in my room on my laptop. Once Tea got past her nervousness (I had gotten over mine half-way through school) our answers to the interview questions came more freely and more conversationally. We almost forgot we had a camera staring at us..... almost. (That objectification of the camera lens is hard to get past.....)
And then, of course, in good Georgian-fashion, we sat down to another suphra.
After our guests had left, I helped Tea clear the table and put everything away -- then I had to go for a run. I needed to clear my mind and my body of the leftover nervous jitters and rushing thoughts, and there is no better way for me to do that than a good, hard run.
The sun was going down when I headed out of the gate toward the bridge -- that "golden hour" light that I love so much colored everything in a lovely, warm glow. I cleared my mind and just listened to my body working -- breathing, stepping, heart pumping -- all in rhythm punctuated by the occasional leap over a puddle or pothole. At the bridge, I ran up the rise to turn around where the pavement meets the metal. I was arrested by the staccato strips of cloud in hues of vermillion, violet, apricot, and azure harmonizing across the sky and echoed by the river. Beautiful. I stood there with my heart pounding in my chest, taking in the day -- a great end to a good day.
And.... cut. It's a wrap.
On my way to school, I wondered how this day would go -- What would they want to film? What would they ask me? How long would they be around? How many people and cameras would show up? Who was making this thing? Where would it be shown? I like knowing the plan, and there was no plan. That made me a little edgy, but I knew that Lika would be really nervous, so I down-played my edginess and tried to be relaxed.
When I got to school, the experience was almost like my first day there back in November -- everyone was dressed in their best, with their hair freshly washed or cut, standing outside to watch for the film crew to arrive. A buzz of anticipation filled the air. I had no idea when the they would arrive. Waiting is bad, but waiting for something I don't really want is the worst.
They weren't there when first period began, nor when second period began. Lika and I taught our first two classes without interruption. We had a break from teaching then, and we wrote our lesson plan for the class we teach together tomorrow and then went over what we would do in the 8th-grade class later on today. We had just finished our work when word was delivered that the film crew had arrived.
I was so relieved to see only one journalist and one cameraman. No lights. No three-ring circus. Thank God.
The journalist, Rusiko introduced herself to Lika and me and told us that she wanted to film an entire class, not just a few minutes of one. We told her that we had one more class to teach. Lika was a little apprehensive to have the 8th-graders be the class to be filmed -- they can be a handful -- the class is very large -- and not all the boys participate. She suggested that we reteach the 5th-grade class that we had already had earlier in the morning and film them. That class is very quiet with excellent students. I immediately curtailed that idea -- I knew that the 8th graders would be a more lively group for the camera. I assured Lika that the class would be fine and we could handle it. She wasn't so sure, but she agreed.
The cameraman and Rusiko went into the classroom first so they could get set up. Lika and I stood in the hallway waiting for the okay to go in and begin. What a nerve-wracking moment. I've always said that teaching is like being on stage -- from the moment the bell rings, the teacher is "on" -- now having a camera "on" as well..... We breathed deeply at the signal to enter and dove in.
As I had anticipated, the students were wonderful. I did most of the talking for the duration of the class with Lika's support in translating when clarification was needed, in monitoring work, answering questions, and expanding on what I said.
The topic of the unit we are looking at right now is all about the arts. They had learned the words "artist," "composer," writer," "poet," "architect," and "sculptor" last week. I had made sets of cards that went together in a group -- one with the word ("poet"), one with a definition of what that person does, and a third with the name of a famous poet (writer, artist, etc.) that the students know. After we had reviewed the topic and the words briefly, I explained (with Lika's help) what we were going to do: Lika and I would give each student a card, and they had to find the other two who completed their group -- one title, one name, one description. They were supposed to use only English, which didn't happen, but it was a great exercise anyway! The cameraman had a blast catching shots of the students milling around looking for their partners. I was glad to have had an interactive lesson ready for today.
When class was over, Lika and I left the room to Rusiko to interview some of the students. She also interviewed Lika and our school director, and then filmed Lika and I working together in the teachers' room. Before leaving school, our school director invited the guests to the suphra that the ladies had prepared. We ate a little and talked about the film. Thankfully no tamada ("toast-master") was elected and no toasts were given. We were able to eat a bit and then head to the house for more filming.
Rusiko wanted to film me on my normal walk home from school. Classes were just finishing, so I was able to walk home with the students that I often accompany. We chatted about the day and their homework while the camera was rolling. It's tough to be natural with a camera pointed in one's direction -- especially for the students.
Halfway home, Rusiko stopped me to put a mic on me and to interview me while continuing to the house. I had a hard time paying attention to the questions because I was watching the cameraman who was in front of us walking backwards. He kept almost stepping in cow droppings and puddles -- he did hit a couple of puddles, but I warned him of a massive pile of fresh droppings just in time. One of the hazards of village-life.
That was one of the things that Rusiko wanted me to talk about -- village life and how I have adapted to it. We also talked about Georgian culture, how I am able to deal with living on the border of the conflict zone, and of course, the educational system. I talked so much today, I have a hard time remembering everything she asked me -- much of what we focused on was the project that I am a part of: Teach and Learn with Georgia (TLG). Once Tea joined the conversation when we got to the house, we were able to jointly express our concerns about the present system, our hopes for the future one, and our opinions of whether or not TLG's initiative is really going to make a difference in the country. One of the biggest concerns that Rusiko and others have is the vast number of TLG "teachers" who are not trained teachers. Native English speakers, yes -- but not teachers. Tea and I think that it would be fine if all the Georgian English teachers were good teachers who already had Western methods down pat. But that is not the case. My teachers and I seem to be an exception to the norm -- I am a teacher, and my two co-teachers are good teachers who are open to changes and readily implement new methods that I model for them. But in many schools across the country, such a combination is rare. Rusiko was quite surprised to find the above-average teaching environment that exists here in Shamgona. Surprised and pleased.
At the house, they filmed Tea and I in the kitchen serving up some fresh, hot hominey (sort of like polenta), Elene and I practicing some Georgian dance, and me working in my room on my laptop. Once Tea got past her nervousness (I had gotten over mine half-way through school) our answers to the interview questions came more freely and more conversationally. We almost forgot we had a camera staring at us..... almost. (That objectification of the camera lens is hard to get past.....)
And then, of course, in good Georgian-fashion, we sat down to another suphra.
After our guests had left, I helped Tea clear the table and put everything away -- then I had to go for a run. I needed to clear my mind and my body of the leftover nervous jitters and rushing thoughts, and there is no better way for me to do that than a good, hard run.
The sun was going down when I headed out of the gate toward the bridge -- that "golden hour" light that I love so much colored everything in a lovely, warm glow. I cleared my mind and just listened to my body working -- breathing, stepping, heart pumping -- all in rhythm punctuated by the occasional leap over a puddle or pothole. At the bridge, I ran up the rise to turn around where the pavement meets the metal. I was arrested by the staccato strips of cloud in hues of vermillion, violet, apricot, and azure harmonizing across the sky and echoed by the river. Beautiful. I stood there with my heart pounding in my chest, taking in the day -- a great end to a good day.
And.... cut. It's a wrap.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Preparations
There are many people who want to be on TV more than anything else. I am not one of them. The only TV show that I would like to be a part of is "The Amazing Race," only because I would be able to go to lots of great places that I haven't experienced yet. But since I've been in Georgia, I have been on TV twice -- both times on the news. And tomorrow I am going to be filmed for a movie. Right.
Last week when I was in Tbilisi finding my way from the bus station to the metro, my phone rang. After digging it out of the front pocket of my backpack, I answered it. It was one of the TLG staff members at the Ministry of Education. He told me that there is a group who is making a documentary of the educational system in Georgia and they want to include some of the TLG teachers in the piece. He said that they want the teacher in Shamgona specifically -- that's me. They want to film me at school with my classes and at home with my host family. I asked if they would be getting in touch with my host family and school, and he said yes. (I didn't want a disruption as crazy as a film crew to be a surprise to everyone.)
Tomorrow is the day that the crew will be showing up, and preparations have been underway for days.
At school, everyone has been in a frenzy. The ladies have been planning a suphra since the beginning of the week. I am very skeptical about having time for a full-fledged suphra, but they've planned one nonetheless. All week there has been a lot of very loud discussion of who should prepare what, and with food prices rising, the discussions grew in intensity throughout the week. By Friday, the arguments were more heated than I have yet witnessed. I wasn't there today, but I know that they were at the school cleaning it from top to bottom. And the director got the builder to come in and fix the flooring that had buckled and warped in a few of the classrooms. I also heard that some out-of-town police stopped by the school to have a look around..... maybe to make sure everything was safe for the crew.
Since Tea and I had to be at school yesterday, Tea's mom came over to start cleaning the house. She was here before I left for school, and she scrubbed all day long. She took the two carpets off the floor in the living room, washed them, and hung them over the fence to dry. She took down the curtains and washed them, too. They were hanging on the line, blowing in the wind when I got home from school. She mopped the floor a few times to make sure all the dirt and dust were gone.
I swept my room -- but that was all the cleaning it needed since I'm such a neat-freak. I also washed the pants, shirt, and sweater I had worn to school.
Tea and I talked about what foods she wanted to have for everyone (a Georgian-must when expecting guests....no matter who they are). We did a few little things to prepare for cooking, but most of the cooking happened today.
From noon until after 10 p.m., Tea and I cooked. We made a cake, eggplant stuffed with hazelnut paste, red peppers stuffed with the same thing, mushroom/rice/carrot salad, another salad made of layers of shredded veggies, cabbage salad, pelamushi, stuffed cabbage, and bread. Well, the bread was today's -- tomorrow, more will be made. I love cooking, so it was a great day for me. And I am more comfortable in Tea's kitchen and more used to her methods and implements, so I am able to do much more than I could when I first arrived -- like using an empty beer bottle and a bench to crack open hazelnuts to roast for the hazelnut paste. (It works surprisingly well and efficiently!) Since everything is made from scratch, the prep-time for any dish is beyond what most Americans would consider rational. I love it -- it's the way I cook anyway.
The last piece of preparation that happened today was a job for Koba. Tea did not want a film crew to be in her house with her light fixtures non-existent. (Well, she doesn't want them here at all, but....) When she and Koba started remodeling their house a few years ago, Koba took out all the light fixtures because they were old and broken. He kept meaning to get new ones, but never did. Bare light bulbs hanging from bare wires had served well enough..... until now. Now there is a nice, new five-bulb hanging lamp in the living room -- a very nice upgrade that Tea is happy with. She and I commented that now we will be able to read in that room after dark without straining our eyes to see the words on the page.
I don't like anyone bothering over me. I don't like being the center of attention (except when I am teaching). I like doing things for others, not having others do things for me. I know that what everyone has been doing for the last two days is not for me directly, but I am the cause of all the fuss and the work. These wonderfully kind and generous people do not have extra money sitting around to spend frivolously. This film crew coming to town has prompted all my colleagues and my host family to put out money they should be spending on other things -- not for suphras because these film people want to film me and our school. But they wouldn't be Georgian if they didn't fuss like this. It is who they are and it is what they do.
Tomorrow should be interesting.....
Last week when I was in Tbilisi finding my way from the bus station to the metro, my phone rang. After digging it out of the front pocket of my backpack, I answered it. It was one of the TLG staff members at the Ministry of Education. He told me that there is a group who is making a documentary of the educational system in Georgia and they want to include some of the TLG teachers in the piece. He said that they want the teacher in Shamgona specifically -- that's me. They want to film me at school with my classes and at home with my host family. I asked if they would be getting in touch with my host family and school, and he said yes. (I didn't want a disruption as crazy as a film crew to be a surprise to everyone.)
Tomorrow is the day that the crew will be showing up, and preparations have been underway for days.
At school, everyone has been in a frenzy. The ladies have been planning a suphra since the beginning of the week. I am very skeptical about having time for a full-fledged suphra, but they've planned one nonetheless. All week there has been a lot of very loud discussion of who should prepare what, and with food prices rising, the discussions grew in intensity throughout the week. By Friday, the arguments were more heated than I have yet witnessed. I wasn't there today, but I know that they were at the school cleaning it from top to bottom. And the director got the builder to come in and fix the flooring that had buckled and warped in a few of the classrooms. I also heard that some out-of-town police stopped by the school to have a look around..... maybe to make sure everything was safe for the crew.
Since Tea and I had to be at school yesterday, Tea's mom came over to start cleaning the house. She was here before I left for school, and she scrubbed all day long. She took the two carpets off the floor in the living room, washed them, and hung them over the fence to dry. She took down the curtains and washed them, too. They were hanging on the line, blowing in the wind when I got home from school. She mopped the floor a few times to make sure all the dirt and dust were gone.
I swept my room -- but that was all the cleaning it needed since I'm such a neat-freak. I also washed the pants, shirt, and sweater I had worn to school.
Tea and I talked about what foods she wanted to have for everyone (a Georgian-must when expecting guests....no matter who they are). We did a few little things to prepare for cooking, but most of the cooking happened today.
From noon until after 10 p.m., Tea and I cooked. We made a cake, eggplant stuffed with hazelnut paste, red peppers stuffed with the same thing, mushroom/rice/carrot salad, another salad made of layers of shredded veggies, cabbage salad, pelamushi, stuffed cabbage, and bread. Well, the bread was today's -- tomorrow, more will be made. I love cooking, so it was a great day for me. And I am more comfortable in Tea's kitchen and more used to her methods and implements, so I am able to do much more than I could when I first arrived -- like using an empty beer bottle and a bench to crack open hazelnuts to roast for the hazelnut paste. (It works surprisingly well and efficiently!) Since everything is made from scratch, the prep-time for any dish is beyond what most Americans would consider rational. I love it -- it's the way I cook anyway.
The last piece of preparation that happened today was a job for Koba. Tea did not want a film crew to be in her house with her light fixtures non-existent. (Well, she doesn't want them here at all, but....) When she and Koba started remodeling their house a few years ago, Koba took out all the light fixtures because they were old and broken. He kept meaning to get new ones, but never did. Bare light bulbs hanging from bare wires had served well enough..... until now. Now there is a nice, new five-bulb hanging lamp in the living room -- a very nice upgrade that Tea is happy with. She and I commented that now we will be able to read in that room after dark without straining our eyes to see the words on the page.
I don't like anyone bothering over me. I don't like being the center of attention (except when I am teaching). I like doing things for others, not having others do things for me. I know that what everyone has been doing for the last two days is not for me directly, but I am the cause of all the fuss and the work. These wonderfully kind and generous people do not have extra money sitting around to spend frivolously. This film crew coming to town has prompted all my colleagues and my host family to put out money they should be spending on other things -- not for suphras because these film people want to film me and our school. But they wouldn't be Georgian if they didn't fuss like this. It is who they are and it is what they do.
Tomorrow should be interesting.....
Saturday, March 12, 2011
First spring farm babies
Fifteen of them -- wiggly, shivering, skinny, almost-translucent, pink piglets.
Yesterday, late afternoon, Leban came running into the house to say that the pig was in the graveyard collecting twigs and grass -- a sign that she was ready to have her litter of piglets (the collecting...not the location). Koba and Tea went out to get her out of the graveyard and into the barn -- I went to my room to get my camera.
Once she was in the barnyard, Koba tried coaxing her into the barn instead of letting her into her tiny house. If she had her babies in her house, she would certainly kill most of them by rolling over onto them. But even with a bucket of food, Koba couldn't get her to go all the way into the barn -- she'd start to step across the threshold -- Tea was ready with the door -- but then the pig turned around and trotted back to her house, squealing all the way. Since the pig wouldn't cooperate by going into the barn, Koba spread some hay on the front stoop by the barn door. She would be comfortable enough to have her babies there, but it was too cold outside for the newborn piglets to survive. They would have to be moved inside as soon as they were born.
We were hoping that momma-pig would have her babies early in the evening. She had made a nest out of the hay and had gone around the barnyard collecting sticks and pieces of hay to add to what Koba had laid down. It was funny to watch a pig make a nest while the chickens stood by watching, probably critiquing the pig's technique with each bob and cluck. Then the pig started doing laps around the barnyard, chewing on nothing but air -- Tea said that meant she was in labor. Pacing and chewing is how pigs deal with the pain. By 10 p.m., she still hadn't had any babies. I went to bed, willing to wait until morning to see them.
The babies came into the world in the middle of the night -- Tea didn't get much sleep having to tend to the newborns. First two, then four, then more, and more, and more! The pig gave birth to 15, but two died right away, so by 3 a.m., Tea had moved the 13 piglets and momma pig into the barn where they would be warmer and contained, but still have space to move around.
I didn't get to see the piglets until after school today (yes, school on Saturday... the first of our two make-up days). There they were, huddled in the corner trying to pile on top of each other to get themselves back into "womb-position" -- which, I'm sure, was much warmer than this Georgian March weather and the barn floor. The pig-pile was a mass of tiny, shivering, pink bodies -- almost cute since they were actually clean. I stepped into the barn later on to see if they had started moving around -- they were a swarming, squirming, pink cloud ringing their mother.
I look forward to watching these little guys grow up in the next few months. And there will be more spring babies to be added to the farm -- chicks, kittens, a calf, and turkeys (if Tea can borrow a male turkey for a few days....).
Fun on the farm!
Yesterday, late afternoon, Leban came running into the house to say that the pig was in the graveyard collecting twigs and grass -- a sign that she was ready to have her litter of piglets (the collecting...not the location). Koba and Tea went out to get her out of the graveyard and into the barn -- I went to my room to get my camera.
Once she was in the barnyard, Koba tried coaxing her into the barn instead of letting her into her tiny house. If she had her babies in her house, she would certainly kill most of them by rolling over onto them. But even with a bucket of food, Koba couldn't get her to go all the way into the barn -- she'd start to step across the threshold -- Tea was ready with the door -- but then the pig turned around and trotted back to her house, squealing all the way. Since the pig wouldn't cooperate by going into the barn, Koba spread some hay on the front stoop by the barn door. She would be comfortable enough to have her babies there, but it was too cold outside for the newborn piglets to survive. They would have to be moved inside as soon as they were born.
We were hoping that momma-pig would have her babies early in the evening. She had made a nest out of the hay and had gone around the barnyard collecting sticks and pieces of hay to add to what Koba had laid down. It was funny to watch a pig make a nest while the chickens stood by watching, probably critiquing the pig's technique with each bob and cluck. Then the pig started doing laps around the barnyard, chewing on nothing but air -- Tea said that meant she was in labor. Pacing and chewing is how pigs deal with the pain. By 10 p.m., she still hadn't had any babies. I went to bed, willing to wait until morning to see them.
The babies came into the world in the middle of the night -- Tea didn't get much sleep having to tend to the newborns. First two, then four, then more, and more, and more! The pig gave birth to 15, but two died right away, so by 3 a.m., Tea had moved the 13 piglets and momma pig into the barn where they would be warmer and contained, but still have space to move around.
I didn't get to see the piglets until after school today (yes, school on Saturday... the first of our two make-up days). There they were, huddled in the corner trying to pile on top of each other to get themselves back into "womb-position" -- which, I'm sure, was much warmer than this Georgian March weather and the barn floor. The pig-pile was a mass of tiny, shivering, pink bodies -- almost cute since they were actually clean. I stepped into the barn later on to see if they had started moving around -- they were a swarming, squirming, pink cloud ringing their mother.
I look forward to watching these little guys grow up in the next few months. And there will be more spring babies to be added to the farm -- chicks, kittens, a calf, and turkeys (if Tea can borrow a male turkey for a few days....).
Fun on the farm!
Friday, March 11, 2011
Risky business
A crap shoot.... or the lottery.... or maybe Providence....
Feel free to pick a frame of reference for my use of the word "lucky." I think it's Provincial -- but a crap shoot could be just as fitting.
Last evening as I hung out in the kitchen with the entire family (minus Elene -- she had gone to her grandmother's house for the night, leaving the rest of us to a night of peace and quiet), Koba made a comment about my being a family member. I don't remember what the conversation was leading up to this statement, but he said that I am not a guest anymore. He and the rest of the family think of me as one of them. "Our grandmother" heartily agreed with her throaty, "Ho-o!" and Tea nodded thoughtfully. They had said this a couple of months ago, but this time it was different -- more familial -- more homey -- more personal.
That started a discussion of how lucky we all feel with my being placed in this wonderful host family's care for my time here in Georgia. I have heard of several TLG teachers who, for one reason or another, did not get along with the family they were placed in, and had to move or are just sticking it out however unhappily. And Tea has heard from some host families whose TLG teachers did not fit in with the family....again for various reasons. She added that she feels so lucky to have me -- and I reiterated that I feel equally lucky to have them.
I asked her if she is going to put her name in to have another teacher stay with them for the next semester after I leave. She pursed her lips over to one side (her thoughtful-decision expression) and paused for a few seconds. "I don't know...... I don't think so. Unless you come back -- then without a second thought, yes." We talked for a few minutes about her desire to improve her English skills and the benefit of having an English speaker under the same roof, but next year she will have more classes at school which means more time away from home. She doesn't think she will have time to care for someone new. Whereas I know my way around now -- around town, around the village, around school, around the kitchen. I'm not new anymore (thank God!), and she doesn't feel like she needs to look after me (so much) anymore. But if she had another new teacher, she would have to initiate them to the area like she did with me. And she would have to get used to a new person....
The process of "getting used to" each other is a tricky one (another 'stoke of luck' or 'lucky dice-roll' or 'act of God' for my home-placement here). Personality conflicts are possible, straight-up dislike is possible. Or, if you are as lucky (or blessed) as I have been, learning to live with each other happens seamlessly and good relationships develop. The adjustment of living with any new person can be long and difficult, and there are bound to be some rough patches as everyone involved learns to blend living space and styles. Compromise is necessary on all sides - everyone involved has to make adjustments to fit a new piece into the existing puzzle. My adjustment to living here has been as easy as it could be with so many drastic differences in lifestyle and living conditions. And the only person I have sensed any resistance from is Elene -- I don't think she likes having to share her mother's attention with me. Other than that, our puzzle pieces have joined smoothly.
Then Tea said, "I don't want to think about what our house will be like when you leave." I just smiled. I didn't know what to say -- and she smiled back. We'll deal with that in a few months.
Feel free to pick a frame of reference for my use of the word "lucky." I think it's Provincial -- but a crap shoot could be just as fitting.
Last evening as I hung out in the kitchen with the entire family (minus Elene -- she had gone to her grandmother's house for the night, leaving the rest of us to a night of peace and quiet), Koba made a comment about my being a family member. I don't remember what the conversation was leading up to this statement, but he said that I am not a guest anymore. He and the rest of the family think of me as one of them. "Our grandmother" heartily agreed with her throaty, "Ho-o!" and Tea nodded thoughtfully. They had said this a couple of months ago, but this time it was different -- more familial -- more homey -- more personal.
That started a discussion of how lucky we all feel with my being placed in this wonderful host family's care for my time here in Georgia. I have heard of several TLG teachers who, for one reason or another, did not get along with the family they were placed in, and had to move or are just sticking it out however unhappily. And Tea has heard from some host families whose TLG teachers did not fit in with the family....again for various reasons. She added that she feels so lucky to have me -- and I reiterated that I feel equally lucky to have them.
I asked her if she is going to put her name in to have another teacher stay with them for the next semester after I leave. She pursed her lips over to one side (her thoughtful-decision expression) and paused for a few seconds. "I don't know...... I don't think so. Unless you come back -- then without a second thought, yes." We talked for a few minutes about her desire to improve her English skills and the benefit of having an English speaker under the same roof, but next year she will have more classes at school which means more time away from home. She doesn't think she will have time to care for someone new. Whereas I know my way around now -- around town, around the village, around school, around the kitchen. I'm not new anymore (thank God!), and she doesn't feel like she needs to look after me (so much) anymore. But if she had another new teacher, she would have to initiate them to the area like she did with me. And she would have to get used to a new person....
The process of "getting used to" each other is a tricky one (another 'stoke of luck' or 'lucky dice-roll' or 'act of God' for my home-placement here). Personality conflicts are possible, straight-up dislike is possible. Or, if you are as lucky (or blessed) as I have been, learning to live with each other happens seamlessly and good relationships develop. The adjustment of living with any new person can be long and difficult, and there are bound to be some rough patches as everyone involved learns to blend living space and styles. Compromise is necessary on all sides - everyone involved has to make adjustments to fit a new piece into the existing puzzle. My adjustment to living here has been as easy as it could be with so many drastic differences in lifestyle and living conditions. And the only person I have sensed any resistance from is Elene -- I don't think she likes having to share her mother's attention with me. Other than that, our puzzle pieces have joined smoothly.
Then Tea said, "I don't want to think about what our house will be like when you leave." I just smiled. I didn't know what to say -- and she smiled back. We'll deal with that in a few months.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Laughter is good medicine
Last Friday at the bus station in Zugdidi I met one of the bus driver's assistants whom I had talked with the weekend before when I went to Bakuriani. He had shown me to my seat on the bus and made sure that the driver knew where I needed to get off in Kashuri. On Friday, he again showed me to my seat and made sure I was settled in just before the bus was to leave. He introduced himself to me (although I didn't catch his name) and asked my name. I told him, and then he asked what my phone number was (all this in Georgian -- he doesn't know any English). I decided that it couldn't hurt to give him my number. He took out his phone and put in the numbers as I said them -- rva, shvidi, shvidi, ori, sami, tskhra, shvidi, o, sami. He smiled and got off the bus.
No sooner had we pulled out of the parking lot of the bus station, and my phone rang.
"Alo, Stepani? Shen aqvs messaging teleponshi?" (Hello, Stephanie? Do you have texting on your phone?)
I answered, "Ki batono." (Yes, of course.)
Then he started saying something that I didn't understand, and I said, "Bodishi, ver gavige. Tsota qartuli vitsi." (I'm sorry, I don't understand. I only know a little Georgian.)
He said, "Kargi, kargad" (Okay, bye), and hung up.
Then the text messages started. Nine of them. I only understood three of them, and I answered those as well as I could, but the others.....well, I debated having Tea translate them for me when I got back from my trip. I was slightly afraid of what they might say.....
Tonight Tea and I were talking about men hitting on women and relationships here and in the U.S., and I remembered the text messages. I told her about the guy who I had met at the bus station and showed her the texts. She started reading the first one and howled with laughter as I scrolled down through the message for her -- she translated for me, "Stepani, when you went to Bakuriani last week I wanted to meet you. You have very beautiful eyes. I really like you." Oh, dear. Here we go.
The next one I had understood, "Stepani, are you German?" I had replied to this one that no, I'm not -- I'm American.
Tea got a real kick out of the third one. She laughed and laughed before translating, "Take me with you when you go to America. I'll teach you Georigan. I really like you. When are you coming back to Zugdidi?"
Fourth, "How do you like Georgia?" This is a fairly standard question I get from any Georgian I meet. I would've understood it, but he had misspelled a word and had used a word I didn't know for "Georgia."
Fifth, "When are you going back to America?" This one I had understood and I replied as well as I could, except I didn't know how to say "June" in Georgian, so I wrote some Georgian with "in June" in English. He misunderstood what I said, so his next message cracked Tea up all over again --
"You're going tomorrow?" We laughed and laughed at this one!
I got a new name in the seventh one. "Stepani, Beautiful, how is your trip going?" I had understood a form of the word "beautiful" here, but didn't recognize it as a name.
All of those texts came while I was en route to Tbilisi. The next day I got two more. The first one I understood, "How are you?" The last one he sent was a picture of a rose.
Tea and I laughed and laughed at the texts. The crazy, disjointed communication -- or lack of communication was pretty entertaining. We laughed so hard, our faces and sides hurt. When we had finally gotten over the funniness of it all, Tea made a comment that laughter is good for our health and will make us live longer. Then she said that as much as we laugh, we'll live to be 130.
If that's true, I've barely begun living!
No sooner had we pulled out of the parking lot of the bus station, and my phone rang.
"Alo, Stepani? Shen aqvs messaging teleponshi?" (Hello, Stephanie? Do you have texting on your phone?)
I answered, "Ki batono." (Yes, of course.)
Then he started saying something that I didn't understand, and I said, "Bodishi, ver gavige. Tsota qartuli vitsi." (I'm sorry, I don't understand. I only know a little Georgian.)
He said, "Kargi, kargad" (Okay, bye), and hung up.
Then the text messages started. Nine of them. I only understood three of them, and I answered those as well as I could, but the others.....well, I debated having Tea translate them for me when I got back from my trip. I was slightly afraid of what they might say.....
Tonight Tea and I were talking about men hitting on women and relationships here and in the U.S., and I remembered the text messages. I told her about the guy who I had met at the bus station and showed her the texts. She started reading the first one and howled with laughter as I scrolled down through the message for her -- she translated for me, "Stepani, when you went to Bakuriani last week I wanted to meet you. You have very beautiful eyes. I really like you." Oh, dear. Here we go.
The next one I had understood, "Stepani, are you German?" I had replied to this one that no, I'm not -- I'm American.
Tea got a real kick out of the third one. She laughed and laughed before translating, "Take me with you when you go to America. I'll teach you Georigan. I really like you. When are you coming back to Zugdidi?"
Fourth, "How do you like Georgia?" This is a fairly standard question I get from any Georgian I meet. I would've understood it, but he had misspelled a word and had used a word I didn't know for "Georgia."
Fifth, "When are you going back to America?" This one I had understood and I replied as well as I could, except I didn't know how to say "June" in Georgian, so I wrote some Georgian with "in June" in English. He misunderstood what I said, so his next message cracked Tea up all over again --
"You're going tomorrow?" We laughed and laughed at this one!
I got a new name in the seventh one. "Stepani, Beautiful, how is your trip going?" I had understood a form of the word "beautiful" here, but didn't recognize it as a name.
All of those texts came while I was en route to Tbilisi. The next day I got two more. The first one I understood, "How are you?" The last one he sent was a picture of a rose.
Tea and I laughed and laughed at the texts. The crazy, disjointed communication -- or lack of communication was pretty entertaining. We laughed so hard, our faces and sides hurt. When we had finally gotten over the funniness of it all, Tea made a comment that laughter is good for our health and will make us live longer. Then she said that as much as we laugh, we'll live to be 130.
If that's true, I've barely begun living!
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Women's Day gifts
Mercury.
That's the perfect word to describe my ninth-grade class. (And I don't mean only this one here in Georgia -- every ninth-grade class I've ever taught anywhere!)
By "mercury" I mean in just about every sense of the word. They're up; they're down. They always carry the latest news from one person to another. They just may be toxic if you ingest them. Some of them may have spent time too close to the sun...... But seriously, aren't ninth graders about as unpredictable as you can get? Today they were up.
In my present ninth-grade class, the boys and girls are pretty evenly divided. The "bitchebi" (Georgian for "boys"..... great word!) sit grouped together in the center and spread to the back of the room. The "gogebi" ("girls") form a semi-circle around the boys.....sometimes I think to shield them from the learning that is happening at the front of the room.....sometimes to supply much-needed answers. Regardless of the reason, the bitchebi form a dark mass of black leather jackets and Armani/D&G/Gucci knock-off stocking caps. Entire classes would go by without a word being uttered from the dark mysteriousness if I didn't call on the boys specifically -- and then quickly shush the gogebi who automatically turn to the singled-out victim to administer the verbal cure for their present ailment. (Although they may be catching on to the new, expected-participation tactics that I am teaching them and their teacher -- lately some of the boys have volunteered answers on their own. Woo hoo!!)
The gogebi are not quite so uniform in their dress..... then again, most of them do wear tall black boots, black skirts, scarves, and black jackets with fur-trimmed hoods..... Maybe the lack of similar hats keeps them from looking like carbon-copies of each other. Well, that and their unique, precious smiles. Anyway, the girls do not appear en masse like the boys do. (I know I talked about uniformity in dress and look yesterday, but it is relevant again today.)
Lika and I walked into their classroom today and set our things down on the teacher's desk at the front of the room. As we do every day, we asked how they were doing. As I was looking from one student to another, a new repeating shape caught my eye. All the girls were wearing the same headband -- a thin band with a bow on one side covered in a Coco Chanel double "c" and some cute little rhinestones. It was like "fashion spirit day." I commented on how nice their new headbands looked, and one of the girls said that the bitchebi had gotten them as gifts for all the girls for Women's Day. I smiled at the sheepishly grinning bitchebi and told them that it was very sweet of them to do that for the gogebi. I love the sheepish grin of a ninth grade boy not quite sure whether or not he should be pleased with a compliment from the teacher -- adorable.
He, he -- "fashion spirit day"......
That's the perfect word to describe my ninth-grade class. (And I don't mean only this one here in Georgia -- every ninth-grade class I've ever taught anywhere!)
By "mercury" I mean in just about every sense of the word. They're up; they're down. They always carry the latest news from one person to another. They just may be toxic if you ingest them. Some of them may have spent time too close to the sun...... But seriously, aren't ninth graders about as unpredictable as you can get? Today they were up.
In my present ninth-grade class, the boys and girls are pretty evenly divided. The "bitchebi" (Georgian for "boys"..... great word!) sit grouped together in the center and spread to the back of the room. The "gogebi" ("girls") form a semi-circle around the boys.....sometimes I think to shield them from the learning that is happening at the front of the room.....sometimes to supply much-needed answers. Regardless of the reason, the bitchebi form a dark mass of black leather jackets and Armani/D&G/Gucci knock-off stocking caps. Entire classes would go by without a word being uttered from the dark mysteriousness if I didn't call on the boys specifically -- and then quickly shush the gogebi who automatically turn to the singled-out victim to administer the verbal cure for their present ailment. (Although they may be catching on to the new, expected-participation tactics that I am teaching them and their teacher -- lately some of the boys have volunteered answers on their own. Woo hoo!!)
The gogebi are not quite so uniform in their dress..... then again, most of them do wear tall black boots, black skirts, scarves, and black jackets with fur-trimmed hoods..... Maybe the lack of similar hats keeps them from looking like carbon-copies of each other. Well, that and their unique, precious smiles. Anyway, the girls do not appear en masse like the boys do. (I know I talked about uniformity in dress and look yesterday, but it is relevant again today.)
Lika and I walked into their classroom today and set our things down on the teacher's desk at the front of the room. As we do every day, we asked how they were doing. As I was looking from one student to another, a new repeating shape caught my eye. All the girls were wearing the same headband -- a thin band with a bow on one side covered in a Coco Chanel double "c" and some cute little rhinestones. It was like "fashion spirit day." I commented on how nice their new headbands looked, and one of the girls said that the bitchebi had gotten them as gifts for all the girls for Women's Day. I smiled at the sheepishly grinning bitchebi and told them that it was very sweet of them to do that for the gogebi. I love the sheepish grin of a ninth grade boy not quite sure whether or not he should be pleased with a compliment from the teacher -- adorable.
He, he -- "fashion spirit day"......
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