stolen shoes
7/13/11
This morning when I was packing for school and the first day of clubs I discovered that my cleats had been stolen out of my room. It affected me in the strangest way, because I love my family and have only been locking my door when I wasn’t at the house, but I remembered my shoes being there yesterday and this morning they were gone. I tried not to cry all morning—and it definitely was not because I no longer have the $10 cleats I bought from goodwill 4 years ago. I knew this would change a lot about my household. I’ve been compromised. The space I’ve been working so hard to make my home is no longer comfortable and communal with my sisters.
Each night they’ve been coming in while I do my lesson plans and homework to watch my favorite anime movie on my ipod and dig through my toiletries basket using my nail files, fingernail polish and reading the toothpaste labels. After this morning, with Mama Lydie getting on the floor to search for my shoes under my bed, I realized that would no longer be part of my routine. I came home from school today and locked my room door just after dropping off my bag by my desk. Patricia has been hanging around the table just outside my door, but I can’t let her in. I have new rules for my room, and in my room I’m making new rules for my classroom. I’m over my Première students not respecting me because they have the power in the language department, and because I have the extreme opposite of an intimidating presence. I also was lucky that my computer and ipod were blatantly overlooked in the cleat theft, and need to start taking more precautions. As sad as it is.
Tomorrow is my first class teaching the sixième anglais class! I’m excited. It’s going to be completely different than my upper class IT class in french. Babies and english and a banana song for the end. 3 hours of teaching tomorrow. I hope I survive.
Kim, sorry to hear that you were robbed. I can understand feeling nervous about people being around your stuff. We were robbed by a machete and I felt shaky for a few days after. At that point, whatever they want is more important than you getting injured. My advice- try to not let your fear impede your relationships there, especially with your host family. I can understand completely feeling frustrated and that is your right to feel that way. Challenge yourself to look deeper than the materials that were taken. Challenge yourself to forgiveness.
Of all possessions a friend is the most precious.
-Herodotus
Yikes- being invaded is so awful! I’m sorry it happened. When things like this happened to me (and they did), it took a while for me to get over it too. One thing to think about- not that it is an excuse or anything- but think about the perspective of the people around you, even your host family. I remember so starkly a conversation with a man who lived in “my” village. I was friends with his wife and daughters and was often at his home. I felt like ‘familia’. Anyway, one day we were all planting rice. We were all hot and tired. He said to me (translated) “You are a bone. The government and the rich treat us like dogs and to keep us controlled they throw us a bone now and then.” I was shocked and sure didn’t feel like a bone (could have been that I was soaking wet from the heat). Anyway, that comment took so long to sink in. In a way, I was a bone. While I personally had no intention of such a role, in a sense, he was right. On the other hand, I was there from a true spirit of both adventure, desire to learn another culture, and yes, “altruism.” So, I think Herodotus is correct. Your space is your space and your rules sound pretty good; however, I would hope that eventually, you can open your heart to some forgiveness. One bad act does not make the person. Indeed if that were the case, I would quite the scumbag (and all in all, I am not!) Much love to you. May you find Peace.