from an e-mail to a friend

(Excerpts and ramblings from an e-mail to Claire, but honest)

My heart sinks every time a chicken dies and I know we don’t have the
proper facility, but have to keep going for the other ones and to
actually teach the students. And somehow these feelings make me even
more emotional about the oil spilling out into the gulf and ruining
wild life and livelihoods. And that links to my ache for the world as
I work with people in Congo who don’t see a way toward peace until all
of the minerals are ripped out of their lands, but what do you do with
a formerly war ridden country with no natural resources for support
anymore. For some reason I feel the pain of these things being ripped
from the earth in a different way now, not because I am more of a
hippie- but because taking care of the chickens and being responsible
makes it all the more real.

My parents recently sent some movies over, as that is the only social
thing we can do without ending up talking about work or working for
the entirety of our lives with SHADE. We watched Australia with my
roommates and one of their sisters is visiting. IT struck a lot of
cords with me I think. The having little
idea what you are doing, but somehow being responsible for the people
that know what is going on or what needs to be done for the animals
and the systems. Balancing the humanity and human element of things-
which I don’t have to face as much. The stolen generation I can’t
even comprehend. But it was good to watch.

But at the end of the day we have always laugh, and I can go
barefoot at the office or in the garden, and now that it is cold my
friend Lucy convinced me to buy house slippers that I keep at home and
bring to the office and feel like Mr. Rogers changing shoes every time
I go outside or come back in.
Lucy was convinced it was because it was too cold on the tile floors-
(Cold because it is autumn, but instead of being like fall it was
just cold with too much rain and no heat or insulation anywhere.
Today is still cool- but its bright and some trees have different
colors- not like ours- but looking for the positive in the season and
starting to make soup and get good tea)

My desk is a whirlwind of graded papers and little notes or things to
remember, and vegetable inventories and receipts that need to be
accounted for and books to start planning lessons and a book of
poetry. And then the lists are even longer than that, but the papers
are there and growing just enough to get by, as the computer files
grow to start new little tasks we need done.
But I have gotten used to it and don’t really feel the pressure, just
do what I can and then try to listen when others are overwhelmed.

Chicken Farmers

In an attempt to demonstrate caring for the chickens, I stood in front of the students’ tea and biscuits for their tea break. I said "you can have tea once you go check on your chickens and make sure they all have food and water."

In general the class is very good at checking on their chickens. They have been divided up into five groups and each group is raising about 40 chickens. It is a lot more work than they expected, and in the last few months I have learned how much attention chickens need, especially when you have many other jobs to do. I had gone to check on the chickens while the student were in class this particular day, and was not pleased by what I had found, partly because the feed had run out.

Everyone checked on the chickens and then had their own tea. Later in the day I apologized for my abrupt attitude and the way I approached the situation. They all seemed receptive. Then as we were clearing the air one student said there was something else we need to discuss. She said they class was offended when I left them a note on the board addressed to Chicken Farmers to give the chickens their vaccinations.

I was a little surprised. And explained I had meant to uplift their work with chickens in a fun way. We began to discuss a bit more, because while she was offended by being called a farmer- I wanted to affirm the positive role of farmers in society. And in fact my whole department revolves around different types of farming. I went on to speak of the respect we should have for the work we are doing, but also any farmer as these are the people that ensure we eat. I tried to explain the friends and colleagues of my parents who work in agriculture and why it was important to me.

Still I receiver don’t call us farmers. I am still working to get to the bottom of it, because the histories of different students assign a different meaning to certain titles. Farmers were sometimes the oppressive people in society. I want to be respectful of this and had not thought about it writing this quick note on the board. But I have a fear that for some, the job is not considered worthy enough to them or that they are above being called a farmer. And knowing the lack of appreciation for farmers and farmworkers in the US, I would be disheartened to think it extended to my students who are trying to help lift their communities out of poverty.

We have powerful soil at the Centre

So my job is taking a toll on my clothes. And there is not enough bleach to make my socks white again, but I face washing them after every poverty alleviation week. Just got through the last batch.




When I blog about transportation I will tell you more about the toll on my clothes and fun with battery acid...

now the trick will be finding warmer shoes as the mornings and evenings get colder.