Toad Hall - Vendredi, 13.10.06

Vendredi 13.10.06 Toad Hall

I’m woken this morning by Nicola who is calling me in rushed, hushed tones. I’m half awake and don’t stir but I don’t think I would have appreciated getting up for the spectacle. Apparently she saw a giant, brown toad on the terrace and she wanted me to do something about it. I can sympathise that it’s not the nicest way to start your day but I don’t think my presence would have helped. Supposedly it was “the size of a stew pot” though I reckon that with the semi-darkness, her early rising, and the haze of smoke which no doubt surrounded her Rice Crispies, that what she saw was probably a bird. Nicola said it even jumped the wall. The wall isn’t too high but a tubby toad could hardly make it over that…Could it? Things here are indeed larger than life so I suppose my scepticism is self calming mechanism which leaves me thinking that the only freaky frogs I’ll ever encounter are either Parisians or sock-puppets!

Back at the Rectorat I recount the toad tale. Sara, from Spain, remarks about how the frogs could jump on your bed and that you have to be careful with the shits. At first I thought she meant sheets but she actually was talking about toad turds. It’s funny how much preconceptions and pro-nun-ci-a-tion count in communication or mis-communication. Once again Madame Bonne emphasises the importance of articulation and pronunciation. She illustrates with the sentence; there are lovely beaches nearby, which often mistakenly becomes; there are lovely bitches nearby. I’m sure there are indeed lovely bitches hanging about but it’s a classic example of how sounds and meanings can be confused.

We watch a video about ‘Life in England’; four kids are having bacon and eggs for breakfast. How pleasantly polite and domesticated they seem onscreen. After breaking it down into its various structural, lexical and cultural elements it’s time for our own class preparations to be scrutinised.

The class séquence is about introducing oneself – parler de soi:

Se présenter

Donner son nom
Donner son âge
Dire où on habite
Dire d’où l’on vient
Indiquer sa nationalité
Parler de sa famille

Parler de ses goûts

Dire ce que l’on aime
Dire ce que l’on n’aime pas

Some groups were clearly more organised and cohesive than others. Of course I understood the English presentations but it was interesting to be in at the deep end for the Spanish lesson. Sara, Rodolfo and Paula took a lesson on la famille – or la familia as it is in Spanish. Even though it is familiar, universal subject I could pin-point the instances where a child would find it hard to understand the vocabulary or even follow the class. However, after healthy criticism and feedback we were more aware of the pitfalls we’ll encounter and the importance off a logical, well-prepared, well-presented lesson. It was also made clear that we should not just rely on ready made classes or activities as they don’t always work. For example the group who presented ‘Likes and Dislikes’ used food flashcards and ended up saying that they like to eat jam, jelly and juice. Hang on… You drink juice, you don’t eat it! It wasn’t a serious mistake but you have to be prepared in order to prevent confusion or misinformation like that. Also, we have to put ourselves in the child’s own cultural and geographical position. This was obvious when nationalités were presented. The group used cultural icons which, although are apparent to us, may not be so for the children.

The only element which wasn’t presented was âge as Madame de l’ Inspectrice made an appearance and had to get her speech in before we wrapped up. She opened the floor up and it was awash with concerns about travel to and from schools, ambiguity surrounding the extent of written English we can use, problems with resources and refunds and Rodolfo’s rant about getting a car. Poor Rodolfo is in a fix. He was initially assigned to two schools near Marin but at Sainte-Luce one of the Spanish teachers stated that it was a pity her students wouldn’t have a Spanish assistant again this year… but they do now since Rodolfo now has that school. A few assistants have one school, the majority have two and some have three. As Madame de l’ Inspectrice explained, Spanish assistants are hard to come by so they use them as much as is feasible. Rodolfo’s concern is that with the considerable distance between his schools, combined with the lack of public transport around Marin and his challenge to find a decent, low-cost motor he will often be late for school and as a result be both stressed and financially penalised. Madame de l’ Inspectrice could only repeat that he was a precious commodity and that prior to coming here we were all made aware of Martinique’s transport issues. She wished him the best in his quest for a car and that was that.

I later found out that a Spanish girl had just returned home as she received a “better job offer” in Spain. Who knows if there was another reason behind her departure… I thank God I’ve only one school, and my two hour bus ride each morning doesn’t seem so tiresome now. I had been offered accommodation that’s a ten minute stroll from my school but apart from already having settled in where I am, living with my friend and not living under a family – structurally or otherwise, I would hate to be stuck in the town which shuts down at night with les rats qui pétent. And it’s not just smelly, sketchy Fort-de-France where assistants are reluctant to live in. Jill (USA) is located in Le François which is said to be a small, bay side fishing town rich with culture and horticulture. However, Jill feels so bored with the quiet life and so cut off from civilisation (as she knows it) that she is know moving to Schoelcher (West of Fort-de-France) which is on the opposite side of the island. She had been living in a hotel in Le François and so it is understandable that she wants company of some sort though the journey from Schoelcher to Fort-de-France to Le François, and back again, is bound to be a killer even if she gets a car.

Everyone who wants a car seems to be having some hassle. Sally-Jo (UK) is the only person I know to have wheels so far; her parents bought her a Renault Twingo. For many people it’s the fact that they’ll be driving on the order side of the road. For others it’s that they have to adapt to using ‘a stick’ (non-automatic). And if you’re non-European you could end up waiting a while for your Carte de Séjour to come through before finally filling out all the paperwork that goes along with purchasing a car here. For most, it’s the financial snags. We’re not all rich Europeans or wealthy Westerners like people perceive us to be. I’m sure many of us would rather spend our earnings and savings on travel and good times can on a clapped-out motor which has to pass various regulatory procedures before we buy it, and then again when we want to sell it. Then there’s insurance, traffic jams, parking and maintenance to deal with, not to mention fuel at €1.42 per litre! I don’t drive and even I know that’s extortionate.

Nicola and I are not in much of a rush to get wheels; due to a combination of the above, mixed in with the fact that we’re managing alright as we are. We’re lucky to have nice neighbours and a bus of some sort to drop us into Fort-de-France. Our Belgium neighbour, William is thinking about selling his car in November so we may just hold out for that. Apart from pondering his price of €1000 for his Kid car we also have four other options for finding a car; 1.) Check the petits announces in the supermarchés and shops. Check √. 2.) Word of mouth – Arlette and her mechanic already lent a hand. Check √. 3.) Look in the ‘Buy and Sell’ equivalent, 97.2 and 4.) Contact Martinique’s resident Dell Boy, Gilbert.

They say that if you need to have money to be mobile, but here in Martinique, if you want to have a mobile you need money. It’s the same price for me to call home on my Martinique number than it is to call someone here. That’s the reason why, after highlighting various ads in the 97.2 we decided to contact Gilbert. Why waste time, energy and effort (not to mention highlighters!) ringing and meeting possible dubious dealers when we can go directly to Gilbert? The word on the street is that if Gilbert does something for you, you’re expected to repay him… I’ve heard stories about girls going to the cinema or a bar with him, or even chancing a romantic meal. It usually takes one ‘date’ before he producing rings and necklaces or worse still before he’s nuzzling your neck! Nicola and I only rang him to see if he had a spare car going (he stocks up on cars each summer for the assistantes; note that’s the feminine form!). At worst we’ll go on a double date with him and his brother Filbert… Hee-hee!

Apart from being a Jack of all trades Gilbert is also a responable. He likes to think he’s everyone’s responsable but in fact Tara (USA) is his only assistante. Before we came here he got hold of some of our email addresses and sent introductory messages around. He tried to set Nicola up with a €600 a month studio in Schoelcher. Tara, his assistante is living with Angela (UK) who is only here for three months. Tara has another responsable who set her and Angela up in their present accommodation. At first the responsable told them they wouldn’t have to pay rent but they would live ‘under’ a family and have to teach the children English in exchange for free accommodation. However, once they actually got there they found they had to pay €200 each a month – which in itself isn’t bad, but the instant they return home the children are sent packing downstairs to them for the evening. Quelle surprise that they are being treated like a babysitting service. Into the mix they live in not-so-nice area, Tara is not too happy with her school situation and although both Tara and Angela get on they both very different individuals. It came as no surprise when Tara added that the owner told them they would have to move out in January as they have people coming to visit. So when Tara told Gilbert about her dissatisfaction with her other responsible and her growing frustration Gilbert offered to find her another place to live. He did. In Schoelcher. I’ve got a sneaking suspicion it’s the one he tried to fob off to Nicola. Even though Tara and Angela would be splitting the rent it all seems a bit suss. Angela will be gone after Christmas though Gilbert says he’ll pay her half of the rent once she’s gone. That gives him a foot in the door so to speak, and he could soon be Tara’s flatmate. The story gets more and more convoluted… Not only is the studio quite expensive, it is also unfurnished and dirty. Gilbert produced a list with all the cleaning agents the girls need to get. Somehow I can’t see Angela getting grit in her nails or grease on her hot pants any weekend soon. And Gilbert may be off being wined and dined so poor Tara may be made clean up. Although on the furnishing front Gilbert did offer to give the girls some patio chairs and disposable cutlery from his own house. How nice. I know Tara’s anxious to move out of Terreville (Terror Ville!) but I think that her desperation has blinkered her.

When our Stage finally finished Heather and I headed into Fort-de-France for lunch with some of the other assistantes. Tara and Sam (Canada) are the first to find us. Kyla (USA) and Claudia (Spain) also make an appearance. They live together in Le François on the east coast of Martinique. They, along with me, are going to Le Carbet to stay overnight with Heather, Paula (Bolivia) and Maria (Spain). It’s great to catch up with Kyla again as we had good craic in Sainte-Luce. Caitlin and Adelaide (USA) also join us after finally sorting out their Carte de Séjour applications.

We’re soon gossiping between mouthfuls of Quiche Lorraine and fondant au chocolat ;-) Over lunch I find out more about Gilbert’s Dell Boy antics; supposedly he only has two cars yet he is promising them to everyone. When I rang he told me he had a Renault Clio and a Volkswagen in the pipeline though apparently he’s holding for Karla (USA) and Sam to make up their minds before passing on the offer. I’m sure Gilbert’s weighing up other options too… Sam, who lives in Le Robert, was going to split the cost of a car with two others but once again Gilbert was up to his old tricks asking them to fork out an immediate lump sum rather than the initial, modest, monthly instalment he had quoted them.

We wander off to La Galerie Lafayette and while some browse in the expensive stores others pose for pictures outside the La Cathédrale Saint-Louis. By 17,00 Heather, Kyla, Claudia and I have said our goodbyes and are off in a TaxiCo to Le Carbet. It’s slow work getting through town and the roads in Schoelcher are jammed, but we soon swap roundabouts for dodgy bends and HLMs for beach huts. Some of the views from the bus are breath-taking (and not always for the right reason). But the pièce de résistance has to be the view from our host’s house at Morne au Boeuf; it overlooks the calm, sparkling Caribbean Sea with Le Carbet, Saint-Pierre and Prêcheur lit up all along the coast and Mont Pelée and the Pitons du Carbet glowing in the distance under the setting sun. Ailleurs, l’herbe est toujours plus verte (The grass is always greener on the other side). Even the house itself is perfect with a large veranda and well equipped kitchen and everyone having their own bedroom with plenty of extra room for guests. The only downside is that their landlady, Marie-Angie, was not too happy to hear they were having people over. Something about the “cost of water” was all Heather managed to make out while leaving the house this morning. When she calls upstairs she seems pleasant and content; though she does lose her temper when her little children throw my beach ball about. Little Antoine asks me if he can have the ball. Despite his big, brown eyes I tell him it’s not mine to throw away.

Heather, Paula and Maria have also had their fair share of housing problems. Madame Sandrine Reine (Heather and Paula’s responsable) had arranged for them to live in a one bedroom, two-room studio. An American assistante was also on the list with them and would also have been squashed in there if she had actually arrived in Martinique. By chance the girls were put up in their present abode for one night and they haven’t moved since. Although the house is perfectly perched above Le Carbet they will have to rely on their landlady and TaxiCos for travel. This may all be soon resolved with the purchase of a car. I’m nearly sick with all this car talk as they seem to go nowhere, however, this car is different; it has red seat covers with Chinese dragons on them. Deadly.

We dine on omelette, okra/gombo (piment végétarien) and sausage. And with the pineapple I’ve brought and some Ti-Punch we settle down for some girly gossip and cultural chats about unsavoury foreign males (branleurs), odd white ‘lab coat’ uniforms Bolivian school children wear and the surprising amount of assistantes who are attached. After our fine feast, and the relief of speaking in our own languages, we’ve tired ourselves out and head to bed in our various corners of this huge, high haven.