Thu 16 Jun 2005
I’m having my usual breakfast of labneh (which is a very creamy, sour yogurt) with olive oil, tomato, and cucumber. Ethan has trudged off to Starbucks to do some work, since overnight our IP once again blocked the port he needs to use VPN.
Yesterday I went on a field trip of sorts with the preschool/kindergarten that Association Najdeh runs. We went by bus from Chatila to a river (creek?) at the edge of the Chouf. Naturally, the river bank had been cemented in for maximum leisure access. The bus was crammed full with kids piled on top of each other, but no one seemed to mind. The bus driver blared Arabic pop music all the way there.
I had a great time, but it certainly would have been more rewarding if I spoke more than a few words of Arabic. There were about 6 teachers and at least as many mothers there, and only one spoke English. The kids never really understood that I don’t speak Arabic, so would just talk to me anyway. When I would speak to them in English, they would just kind of look at me. I think a few of them just thought I was weird. Most of them waded in the water, or had an adult carry them in deeper. None of them could swim, not even the older ones who were along, but they really loved (and were simultaneously terrified by) the water.
At one point, a kid had a grasshopper-esque bug on his neck, so I took it off and showed it to him. He was completely freaked out, and soon a crowd of kids gathered to look at the insect and marvel at the fact that I was holding it in my hand. They were shrieking with delight and wouldn’t get too close to it. I put it on a tree and a few of them stood watching it for a long time. Then the mother who spoke some English asked me if it was a frog that lives in the river.
Several of the mothers and one teacher swam, fully clothed, most still with the headscarf. They eventually enticed me to come in as well. It was such an interesting bonding moment to swim and joke around with these women who were so accepting of me without being able to speak or know anything about me. It’s amazing how much you actually can communicate without talking.
On the bus ride home, about half the kids passed out, music still blaring. Two of the teachers stood up and danced together the whole way back to Chatila while the rest of us clapped to the music.