vendredi 17.11.06 The life of Reilly
I can’t believe how quickly the week has flown. It seems like no time since I was starting the day by confiscating scissors and diaries. Today however, starts on a happier note; Cherie FM is blaring on the bus. It plays mainly English songs so Nic and I are in our element as we sing along to cheesy 80’s tunes. Total Eclipse of the Heart gets us going and we’re in top form by the time we cruise into Fort-de-France while crooning away to Take my breath away.
My next bus journey is not as animated but I’m still humming away to myself as I enter Chateauboeuf. I spot Christophe in the yard but Aurore is in the classroom as per usual; she apologises for being absent-minded last week. Christophe’s class have prepared a display showing the different types of forest found in Martinique. It’s interesting though not aesthetically inspiring especially as blobs of green glue drip from behind the leaflets and leaves and others have fallen off.
I reuse yesterday’s lesson plan, though I only play one game of BINGO to allow ample time for the price exercise, and possibly a slot for foreign greetings.
Both Christophe and Dominique’s classes love BINGO, though one girl in Dominique’s class incorrectly yells out BINGO three times; even though I’ve called out neither 13 nor 30 she has them both marked off. Two of her classmates steal some Blutack and Dominique threatens to roast them over a spit at the festival. Her eagle eyes don’t miss a thing. I hadn’t even noticed, but since they only have white pâte à fixe here it sticks out well. We’ve a few minutes at the end of the class to run through some German greetings and Polish welcomes. I leave a poster with the phrases in each class room so the kids can practise; if only they took such notions as quickly as they take Blutack.
At the break I find myself doing more translations. I help Dominique with questions relevant to the class projects and Régine asks me to translate a text on costumes and carnivals. They’re both interesting pieces and should our visitors tire of searching for the answers I can always save them the hassle and give them the answers; for a fee of course or a pint perhaps.
Its back to step one with the younger children, as we try to get heels, toes and hand changing motions in sync with the music; it’s too fast for their tiny, faltering feet and fluttering fingers so I end up just shouting out the commands over the music. Madame Pamphile decides to choose the three best pairs in her class to dance but Madame Edragas wants to include her whole class; they can sort it out themselves as I’m done for the week.
Lunchtime is always a flurry of cars, chat and clatters and it’s hard to get away without spending a frantic five minutes on farewell formalities. I lightly tap Madame la Directrice on the arm and wish her a good weekend. Eduardo is just driving in the gate and I wish him likewise. Christophe pulls up at the bus stop and offers a lift but I’m mid-call and he’s not going into town so I wave him on, mouthing merci.
I’m between two minds whether to hang about to meet Nicola or whether to head home. In the end I decide to linger for lunch and I pass the time in Bibliothèque Schoelcher. I join up and take out two books: Life of Pi by Yann Martel and Le Chat qui cassait la Baraque by Lilian Jackson Braun.
Nicola had her first class with Edith, the witch woman. All went well with her but it was the class who were unruly. The lesson was about piercings and tattoos and it eventually drifted unto Pamela Anderson and Goths – which quickly dried-up as the students pointed-out that they couldn’t possibly become Goths (I think that rates with the previous “black-eye” class!!).
Eventually homosexuality rears its many heads. Nicola explains that sexual orientation and religion can usually be determined among men with pierced ears in Ireland; in Northern Ireland Protestants wear an earring in their left ear while Catholics wear one in their right ear. The reverse applies for straight and gay guys in Ireland. One guy has both his ears pierced. He has obviously picked up on certain elements of the lesson and justifies his look by explaining that he is both Catholic and straight.
Nicola has been asked many times if: a) she is married; b) she has kids; and c) if she has a boyfriend. When she replies in the negative they ask her if she is a gween, a lesbian. She tells them otherwise but adds that she lives with a female friend. The questions start-up again and they break into laughter and start nudging each other at the thought of two girls living in such close proximity. Even if some guys give in to the thought of lesbian action they are not at all approving of male mating.
These sixteen and seventeen-year olds believe that homosexuals should be burned, turned out of their homes, shot and exterminated. One of the teachers is so taken aback by their blinkered judgement and condemning comments that she gives out, defending a person’s sexual orientation. She then asks the boys how they can wear earrings, necklaces and braids; in her mind they seem to be contradicting themselves by taking on the appearance of girls while hating gay guys. She challenges them asking how they would feel if a friend or family member was gay. Their reactions are even more explicit. Although they don’t use this phrase they are of the opinion that “God made Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve”. The world turns but some people stay stuck in the shade. C’est la vie. That’s life.
The Life of Pi is far more absorbing and tolerant of different religions and lifestyles. I love how Martel’s mind works; it’s like an ever-turning kaleidoscope seeing the world’s ever-changing multiplicity. The long evening stretch becomes noticeably shorter as I soak up the story of this unusually-named boy and his life-buoy.
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