This morning I woke up at 7:15AM. Upon looking out the window, I was met with a blue, cloudless sky with plenty of sun and a slight breeze -- the perfect conditions for hanging up laundry in Didi Digomi. On Thursdays, I teach an advanced reading class at 9:30AM, and so I knew that I'd have to put my sheets and towels in the second-floor community washing machine by 8AM if I wanted to hang the clothes on an outdoor line before I started teaching. What I didn't anticipate was having to fight with the shared office printer for a good seven minutes at 9AM. The toner has been low on the machine for about a week now. Until this morning, my colleagues and I have been able to trick the machine by giving the toner cartridge a good shake and then reinserting the cartridge back into the printer. On this morning, though, the printer wasn't having it.
By the time I worked everything out with the printer, it was 9:10AM, and I had only 5 minutes to get my wash hung up and set up my classroom. With my computer bag on my left shoulder and my wet sheets and towels balanced inside a plastic bin on my right hip, I had every intention of dumping my bag in my classroom, then rushing to one of the courtyards of the Bateli Center to hang up the wash. Instead, S, one of the nursing home residents (Did I mention that the Bateli Center is also a retirement home and that I'm living with septua- and octogenarians for all of this month?) saw me, and motioned for me to follow him. Thinking that he was trying to be helpful by showing me the way to the clothes lines (which is the opposite direction of the classrooms), I decided to be nice and let him lead me to the courtyard. Instead, he stopped in front of my apartment door, pointed at my door, then pointed at his apartment door, which is across from mine. At this point, I was a little frustrated because I had no idea what the connection between our apartments and my wash was, and I was worried about being late for my class. What he did, though, was go into his room and then come back out with a set of seven freshly cut roses inside a makeshift vase that used to be a plastic beverage bottle. Oh, he's giving me flowers to put in my apartment!
It took me about 20 seconds to unlock my door, put the flowers inside, lock my door again, and then say thank you to him in Georgian a couple of times. He then gestured with his hands for me to follow him outside to the courtyard, which I did, but not without a feeling of panic. Nice guy that he is, I was afraid that his politeness might extend to helping me put my wash on the line, and I hadn't yet separated my underwear from the sheets. As we stepped over the threshold of the exterior door, we ran into a guy whose name I don't know, but I refer to him as "80 year-old dude usually in his underwear'. As I stepped down the one step to get into the courtyard, the computer bag on my shoulder jostled and slipped down my arm. Underwear Dude quickly took the bag away from me, and gestured for me to keep walking to the clothes line. I thanked him in Georgian yet found myself feeling irritated because now I potentially had both of these old guys helping me hang up my laundry, which I foresaw as something that would make this whole process take longer than I wanted it to.
We made it to the actual clothes line, and I set down the green plastic tub with the laundry. Underwear Dude lifted up my computer bag and then proceeded to place the bag's strap over my head so that I wore the computer bag across the shoulder as if it were a messenger bag. He gave me a big smile and thumbs up. I, again, said thank you in Georgian, but was completely not in the mood for being nice because now, with the computer bag across my shoulder, it made things a little difficult to hang up the clothes. Meanwhile, S suddenly demonstrated that he knows the English expression, "What's your name?" I responded, "Monique".
S: Moni?
Me: Monique
S: Moni?
Me: Yes... Moni.
S: [points at himself] S_____
Underwear Dude didn't share his name. We all smiled at each other, and then they continued on their way to the exterior door of the dining hall. Relieved that they left me alone, I took off the computer bag, rested it against the clothes line post, and started clipping my towels and blankets with the wooden clothes pins that I got from the laundry area. Meanwhile, M, one of the caretakers, saw me hanging things up. She darted back inside the kitchen area and then came back out. In her hand, she had a package of 20 (new) sturdy plastic clothes pins. She pointed to the wooden pins on the line and then handed me the plastic pins. I interpreted her nuanced gestures as she doesn't have faith that the wooden pins will combat the notorious gusts of wind in Didi Digomi. I didn't question her judgment and took the pins from her, saying thank you in Georgian. She went back into the kitchen.
By this time, I had no idea what time it was, but I felt that I'm was going to be quite late for my 9:30AM class. It took me a few minutes to hang up the laundry that I don't mind displaying in public (towels, sheets), but I still had my underwear to deal with, which meant going back to my room to place those wet items on the drying rack. This took another couple of minutes, which meant that I had no other choice but to bring the plastic laundry tub with me to the classroom and use the break time to return the tub to the community laundry area. I grumbled to myself the whole walk to the classroom and was pleasantly surprised to see that the wall clock near the dining hall read 9:24. I brighten up a little but then felt deflated when another wall clock read 9:28. What?! Thankfully, when I entered the classroom, it was empty, so I was saved the embarrassment of walking into a room full of students with a laundry tub. I put the tub on an empty chair in the back of the room, then pulled my laptop out of the computer bag to start everything up. The computer clock read 9:22. What is going on?! I felt relief, irritation, and begrudging appreciation. Relief in that I had plenty of time to pull up the right documents to display for class before students arrived. Irritation in that micro time zones with disparate time definitions abound in this place. Begrudging appreciation in that I had to acknowledge that God was trying to teach me a lesson in all of this. My fixation on being timely and prepared was creating a lot of unnecessary negativity. God was giving me a time out by interrupting me with the presence of S, Underwear Dude, and M. They showed nothing but kindness and giving spirits, and yet I was so resistant to accepting this outpouring of love. They were God's way of showing me that even though this place is full of challenges, He is faithful and by my side.
It's not every day that I get flowers from gents. If a 70 year-old man decides to take the time to cut fresh roses from the bushes in the yard, stick them in a plastic bottle that he cut in half and filled with water, and then present them to a near stranger, I should not feel irritated. I should feel grateful and extend such kindness to others.
By the time I worked everything out with the printer, it was 9:10AM, and I had only 5 minutes to get my wash hung up and set up my classroom. With my computer bag on my left shoulder and my wet sheets and towels balanced inside a plastic bin on my right hip, I had every intention of dumping my bag in my classroom, then rushing to one of the courtyards of the Bateli Center to hang up the wash. Instead, S, one of the nursing home residents (Did I mention that the Bateli Center is also a retirement home and that I'm living with septua- and octogenarians for all of this month?) saw me, and motioned for me to follow him. Thinking that he was trying to be helpful by showing me the way to the clothes lines (which is the opposite direction of the classrooms), I decided to be nice and let him lead me to the courtyard. Instead, he stopped in front of my apartment door, pointed at my door, then pointed at his apartment door, which is across from mine. At this point, I was a little frustrated because I had no idea what the connection between our apartments and my wash was, and I was worried about being late for my class. What he did, though, was go into his room and then come back out with a set of seven freshly cut roses inside a makeshift vase that used to be a plastic beverage bottle. Oh, he's giving me flowers to put in my apartment!
It took me about 20 seconds to unlock my door, put the flowers inside, lock my door again, and then say thank you to him in Georgian a couple of times. He then gestured with his hands for me to follow him outside to the courtyard, which I did, but not without a feeling of panic. Nice guy that he is, I was afraid that his politeness might extend to helping me put my wash on the line, and I hadn't yet separated my underwear from the sheets. As we stepped over the threshold of the exterior door, we ran into a guy whose name I don't know, but I refer to him as "80 year-old dude usually in his underwear'. As I stepped down the one step to get into the courtyard, the computer bag on my shoulder jostled and slipped down my arm. Underwear Dude quickly took the bag away from me, and gestured for me to keep walking to the clothes line. I thanked him in Georgian yet found myself feeling irritated because now I potentially had both of these old guys helping me hang up my laundry, which I foresaw as something that would make this whole process take longer than I wanted it to.
We made it to the actual clothes line, and I set down the green plastic tub with the laundry. Underwear Dude lifted up my computer bag and then proceeded to place the bag's strap over my head so that I wore the computer bag across the shoulder as if it were a messenger bag. He gave me a big smile and thumbs up. I, again, said thank you in Georgian, but was completely not in the mood for being nice because now, with the computer bag across my shoulder, it made things a little difficult to hang up the clothes. Meanwhile, S suddenly demonstrated that he knows the English expression, "What's your name?" I responded, "Monique".
S: Moni?
Me: Monique
S: Moni?
Me: Yes... Moni.
S: [points at himself] S_____
Underwear Dude didn't share his name. We all smiled at each other, and then they continued on their way to the exterior door of the dining hall. Relieved that they left me alone, I took off the computer bag, rested it against the clothes line post, and started clipping my towels and blankets with the wooden clothes pins that I got from the laundry area. Meanwhile, M, one of the caretakers, saw me hanging things up. She darted back inside the kitchen area and then came back out. In her hand, she had a package of 20 (new) sturdy plastic clothes pins. She pointed to the wooden pins on the line and then handed me the plastic pins. I interpreted her nuanced gestures as she doesn't have faith that the wooden pins will combat the notorious gusts of wind in Didi Digomi. I didn't question her judgment and took the pins from her, saying thank you in Georgian. She went back into the kitchen.
By this time, I had no idea what time it was, but I felt that I'm was going to be quite late for my 9:30AM class. It took me a few minutes to hang up the laundry that I don't mind displaying in public (towels, sheets), but I still had my underwear to deal with, which meant going back to my room to place those wet items on the drying rack. This took another couple of minutes, which meant that I had no other choice but to bring the plastic laundry tub with me to the classroom and use the break time to return the tub to the community laundry area. I grumbled to myself the whole walk to the classroom and was pleasantly surprised to see that the wall clock near the dining hall read 9:24. I brighten up a little but then felt deflated when another wall clock read 9:28. What?! Thankfully, when I entered the classroom, it was empty, so I was saved the embarrassment of walking into a room full of students with a laundry tub. I put the tub on an empty chair in the back of the room, then pulled my laptop out of the computer bag to start everything up. The computer clock read 9:22. What is going on?! I felt relief, irritation, and begrudging appreciation. Relief in that I had plenty of time to pull up the right documents to display for class before students arrived. Irritation in that micro time zones with disparate time definitions abound in this place. Begrudging appreciation in that I had to acknowledge that God was trying to teach me a lesson in all of this. My fixation on being timely and prepared was creating a lot of unnecessary negativity. God was giving me a time out by interrupting me with the presence of S, Underwear Dude, and M. They showed nothing but kindness and giving spirits, and yet I was so resistant to accepting this outpouring of love. They were God's way of showing me that even though this place is full of challenges, He is faithful and by my side.
It's not every day that I get flowers from gents. If a 70 year-old man decides to take the time to cut fresh roses from the bushes in the yard, stick them in a plastic bottle that he cut in half and filled with water, and then present them to a near stranger, I should not feel irritated. I should feel grateful and extend such kindness to others.
2 comments:
Yes and they were roses, we all need to take time to smell them and and give thanks!
Next time, bring all your laundry to class. Students are always glad to help and many hands make light work!!
The adventuring life continues. Thanks for publicly posting.
Jones
Indeed, the adventuring life continues. I think you'll have a great time with Robin and her mother when they come visit you soon. Many stories to share :)
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