Sometimes I wish we had a video of our lives: a documentary available to capture the unique moments that fill each and every day; the hilarious situations and our faces not sure how to respond.
There are plenty of good reasons why this would be a bad idea as well, but this week, there were a number of wonderful events where our facial responses should have been captured.
Somewhere around Tuesday, I woke up early to go to the market before work. The mornings are crowded at the market, particularly on week days: some pedestrians, carts, motorbikes, and bicycles all among the crates of fruits and vegetables covered by huge umbrellas. As I walked through the market, I had my purse across me from one shoulder to the other hip while my hands were full of bags of vegetables and beans. I was squeezing through the crowds to locate my next purchase, trying to avoid the motorbike on my left and cart of raw, bloody chicken on my right.
I erred too far toward the motorbike, and her hand brake managed to catch my purse strap as she went by. I suddenly felt myself being pulled backward, and let out a few ah-ah-ahs in concern. A middle-aged Burmese woman turned to me–slightly annoyed that I was slowing her down with my yelps–and then saw that I was attached to her and didn’t even have a hand to spare to loosen myself.
Her face broke into a huge smile and laugh. And she’ll probably recognize me every time we pass in town, telling of the white person she nearly drove off with.
Our landlord visited this week as well. We see her every few months, but today she showed up with our electric bill. She had pulled it from our electric box just outside the gate, brought it in to us, and proceeded to tell us–for twenty minutes, in very broken English–how to pay our electric bill. Y’know, in case we hadn’t figured it out for the past twenty-five months of living here.
Another evening while I was out playing football, Stephen had some visitors. Mo Bya brought by a Karen high school student who had just moved down the road. We learned later that he claimed to speak Burmese, Karen, and English, but they didn’t understand his Burmese or Karen, so they brought him to us to speak English.
According to Stephen, he knew basic greetings, and the conversation didn’t get very far. It was over half and hour of drawing pictures and communicating, well, relatively nothing–with a smile!
And on Saturday, we kept the door closed through the morning in an attempt to catch up on things. As much as we love the kiddos that invade our lives, they are distracting! For all that needs to be done before we fly out this week, we took the morning to catch up.
Until I heard crying. There were kids playing on the porch, and one suddenly started to bawl. It sounded like an older child, which surprised me as it continued longer…I folded. I went to the door to check on them.
The crying stopped instantly, and five very clever little girls giggled in success.
They have learned who the weak one is, and where her weaknesses lie.