Edith has a heart attack - Mardi, 30.01.07

Mardi 30.01.07 Edith has a heart attack

Nic’s up at 5,30 which is strange considering she’s not due in school until 10,30. It’s not so strange to see Madame Arlette up at this time of the day but what is odd is the way in which she has perched herself on her veranda overhead. Nic smokes on our terrace but this morning Arlette’s gaze makes her uneasy and so she scuttles over to the side of the house. Arlette’s hawkish eyes stay glued to her and her glare burns Nic’s back just as the smoke must burn the back of her throat; Nic must have been dying for that fag.

Death and destruction seem to be the order of the day. I don’t like to pry but I like to be informed nonetheless so I ask Madame Edragas why Madame Bois will be out for so long. I presume I’ll get a diagnosis of some sort as I know she was in hospital but I’m told that apart from undergoing 2-hours of serious surgery last Thursday poor Dominique awoke on Friday to find out that her sister had passed away. Her sister had been ill for a long time and Dominique had postponed her own operation many times as each time she was due to undergo surgery her sister’s condition worsened and Dominique feared she would slip away without being by her side. The poor woman.

Mr Castor is subbing for Madame Bois for an unspecified amount of time. He reckons it’ll be a month at least. Mr Castor is an odd fish. He looks like a Black BeeGee. It’s the dark round-rimmed glasses and his slight frame which transform him into Robin Gibb’s shadow man. He teaches History and I find out that most primary school pupils here learn about Martinique’s history up to the abolition of slavery in 1794. In French history Louis the XVI is their main end page until they pickup with the rest of European history in secondary school. This present history lesson about execution may have sowed some seeds of sinister thoughts among this class as I intercept a note being passed between two girls. It reads: Have you heard today’s news? In green pen under this blue question is written: Oui. I ask if this news concerns someone or something. I don’t get an immediate reply so I take a stab and ask out loud if it involves a person. Affirmative. The girl is asked to put the letter in the bin and as she rises she puts her index and middle finger to her neck and adds that someone will be killed. Eleven-year olds mentioning murder is probably not uncommon in Martinique but I take it that something involving no bloodshed is brewing. I tell Elizabeth and she assures me that it’s just childish craziness.

Christophe’s class are their usual humorous yet wild selves. We have trouble with cows and snakes. My chalky handwriting makes cow appear as con to some children. Fortunately they don’t seem to notice that this cud chewer has turned into a silly cow! Qu’elle est con! Snake, although properly transcribed, is still taken down by many as snack. Martinique may be wild but I never knew people ate snakes here. A kid asks me what ‘smack that’ means. God bless Acon and Eminem and 50 Cent and Rihanna and Cassie and Co. I explain that, in times past, if I a child was naughty they usually got a smack on the hand or bottom. I smack myself on the ass and leave it at that. “What’s doncha?” Ah, the PussyCatDolls have been unleashed here too. Don’t you… Don’t cha… wish your girlfriend was hot like me? I have to stop myself from breaking into dance mode but the class do it off their own bat. I love these kids J

Madame Pamphile isn’t in so I take Madame Edragas’ extended class directly after break. We play lots of animal games. The Snake Team ends up winning 11 spiders while only 7 chicken hatch on the other side of the room. A new fish cut-out and an unusual colibri (hummingbird) are added to my animal collection by Yuri and Berthé respectively. I love these kids too J

Martiniquan males may be sweet as kids but they’re plain odd as men. My bus into town sees me seated beside a skinny middle-aged local. He’s clutching a tatty plastic bag and a radio. His radio isn’t on as another guy two seats up has his on so there’d be terrible interference if they were both blaring. However, my neighbour doesn’t hesitate in interfering with me. He points to the orangey mark on my navy three-quarter lengths. I tell him it’s a sun cream stain, which it is, and I show him the other one on my left hip. Not only do some local lads like to point out the obvious but they also seem to enjoy a bit of exhibitionism. I’m off one bus and on to another when I clap eyes on three young guys comparing wares – underwear. Thankfully the boxer shorts are clean. I quite fancy the red ones myself. For me though.

Nicola meets me at Rond Point and immediately launches into her latest tale about Edith. Edith cornered her in the computer room. Poor Nicola nearly had a heart attack when she looked over her shoulder to see Edith looming over her, spitting condemning questions and rash requests at a numb Nicola. Nicola’s frozen shock stance was probably the best defence tactic but the wrath of Edith is still etched on her brow. We go for lunch. Lamb Stew for me and Turkey for Nic. A coffee is order after Nic’s ordeal. We get a take-out and head to the IUFM. Nic has never been and has never seen David’s box room; it should take her mind of bigger boxing rings. David has no excuse not to have us. Well, initially he doesn’t. I had intended on this being a visit with no internet intentions but Nicola soon gets sucks into the minutiae of modern technology… Ireland at 84,421km² is 63.89 times bigger than Martinique while Scotland is 71.61 the size of Matinik. And in other news the Jameson Distillery is being renovated and will be open in time for St. Patrick’s Day this year. Cheers!

David has to go into town for teabags (that’s a good one!), Nicola has more classes lined up and I’m off home to bed with the remnants of the flu/Caribbean cold making me groggy. We meet Jamy, David’s Spanish teaching colleague and David briefly arranges to meet him for a cerveza before speeding off into get teabags in Cyber Délice. I think he got a Wispa too… hee-hee!