Speaking of Absurd

As I was sitting at the kitchen table writing out verb conjugations last night, Nona got a call and immediately gestured for me to put on shoes and follow her outside. We walked to the curb and stopped to wait. I asked where we were going but didn’t understand the answer, and it was a bit cold! I was just starting to wish that I’d brought my coat when Eka drove up. We climbed into the back seat and she introduced me to her friend who was sitting up front with her. Then she explained that we were going to his village. Cool. Sure. Why not!

A bit down the road, we stopped again and Nona gestured for me to move over. I did, and soon I found myself very much squished between Nona and a man whom Eka introduced as “bürgermeister of Oni municipality.” He would ask her questions about me in Georgian, she would ask me in German, I would answer in English and then fill in the parts she didn’t understand in German, and then she would translate back to Georgian for him. It was very silly. She also took the time to explain to me that these men are her friends but “they are not like American friends. They are Georgian friends…we are like brothers and sister…” I laughed and told her that I have American friends who are like brothers and sisters to me…in fact, that’s pretty much what friendship is. I wondered for half a second where this idea that Americans all sleep with all our friends comes from, and then I remembered walking by ads for that “Just Friends” (I forget who was in it) film this summer. Right. Thanks, Hollywood.

I fell asleep in the car on the way home, but once home I had energy for a quick phone call to share the absurdity with a friend and then for some yoga to stretch out after the afternoon’s sporting.

I’m glad it was so exciting, because today was decidedly unremarkable. It was rainy and sleepy and cold. The electricity went out a few times…I sat by the wood stove studying verb conjugations all day. After school, that is, where I caused much excitement by using colored chalk in a few lessons. I thought I rejoiced over small things; these kids were ecstatic and so were my fellow teachers! Also, I’m feeling a little guilty because I taught my ninth graders a game and when one of my shiest students (who’s very bright and good-hearted, actually) didn’t want to play. My co-teacher yelled at him until the principal came, then she yelled at him too. I just stood there…wondering that other students can fight and never do their homework and play with the woodstoves in the classrooms and not one of the teachers blinks, but here was this poor kid getting wrung out over such a small thing as refusing a game.

Kvelaperi kargad ikneba…