The Dog

On Wednesday, one of my students, Phyo Kyaw Kyaw, was given a dog. He put it in one of the unused classrooms of the Teacher Preparation Course next to the EIP Boy's Dorm.

Thursday was the student's last day of final exams. There were six students left to make their final speeches and four students left to complete their teaching practicum exam. In the afternoon, they all sat their last TOEFL exam. While the teaching labs were taking place, I went to the market with the school director, Paw Yu Lee. We were picking up some bits and pieces for the end of exams party that night.

We heard the commotion while buying batteries in one of the stalls. There was drumming and music and the sound of many people. We came around the corner to see a group of colorful dancing people. It was a monk initiation celebration. I could barely see the young monks kneeling inside one fo the market stalls, sweltering in the heat, decked out in artificial flowers and elaborate dress, fanning themselves with bamboo fans. Before they become monks, children first become princes, taking on all the worldly richness they can before shedding it all for monkhood. The crowd consisted mainly of older people. There was someone playing an electronic keyboard, another on tambourine, and several men with bamboo sticks for a drumbeat. Old women were dancing, and people in the market had gathered around.

At first, Paw Yu Lee and I stood to the side of the only path through the market and watched. But after awhile, we wanted to continue on our way. Seeing someone else worm their way through the crowd, Paw Yu Lee said, "I think it's ok. We can go." She started to make her way through the dancing people.

I tried to follow, but the moment I stepped out of the shadows of the market stall where we had been standing, people started to notice me. I am not hard to notice, being big and white. Immediately, one of the dancers, a very old, very short woman with bright red lipstick over very few teeth and artificial flowers in her hair, came up to me and grabbed my hands. She wanted me to dance with her. I obliged, laughing, and waved my hands in the air, doing my impression of Karen-style dancing. This seemed to make the old woman happy, so I turned and tried to continue on my way. I couldn't move. The old woman was holding onto my bag. "Ok, ok," I thought, "I will dance a little more." And I did.

I tried to turn away a second time, but she grabbed my wrist with a grip of steel. All the while, she was grinning at me with her few remaining betel nut stained teeth and reeking of alcohol. By this time, I had been picked up on the radar of every drunken dancer in the party. Clearly, I was not going anywhere. I looked around a little desperately for Paw Yu Lee. She was on the other side of the fray laughing uproariously. I disengaged from the old lady, still doing the hand moves, and made my way through the crowd. I was now thoroughly engulfed by the dancers, in the middle of everything. Two very old men now barred my way, grinning. "Ok, ok," I thought again. "A little more dancing won't hurt." Someone snapped frantic pictures on a disposable camera. "Look," they must have been saying, "the elusive dance of the great white girl!"

The trick was getting past the portable electronic keyboard and the line of musicians, but with a little force and a big smile and not a few hand waving and some time later, it was done. Hot, sweaty and unable to stop laughing, I grabbed Paw Yu Lee and marched her out of the market. "But Jen," she said, "you dance Karen-style very well!"

Our errands didn't take much time and when we were finished the baby monks and their entourage had moved elsewhere. We got back just in time for the TOEFL exam. When the exam was over, the cooking began.

The cooking took hours because there was so much food and also because most of the students went away to "beautify themselves," take showers, buy more snacks (as if we needed more food) and rest up after the rigors of exam week. I squatted down on the hard packed earth floor of the kitchen, pounding chilies and spices with the mortar and pestle and chatting with Paw Yu Lee, listening to the sounds of camp in the late afternoon. Somewhere, a dog was howling. It felt like cooking dinner with my Mum. Paw Yu Lee is my age, but she was explaining to me how to make the special curry we would prepare that evening.

The food was delicious. We had coconut rice, thick and creamy, and chicken and pork. The table was full of meat, something that never happens. After dinner, we hooked up the TV to the car battery and did some wild karaoke. Yours truly might have sung a few songs and done some dancing about.

When it was all over, seventeen students and their three teachers stumbled off to bed with full bellies and relieved minds, exams over, another year at EIP completed.

The next day, there was no longer a dog in the unused classroom.