Hmmmm. Well Part I and II do not work well for Mommies with Two Toddlers in Diapers.
It seems so long ago that now I wonder what was so crazy about Thursday.
Here is part two from a Monday's perspective.
We went to play in the graveyard. The usual huge elephant gate with its' tiny human door had a large blood covered sheet hanging above. We walked past the area of worship and burning incense to see the horses. We had two apples, two balls and lots of hope to feed the horses the apples and play with the balls. As we rounded the corner there were no horses but rather a trio of grave diggers covered in dirt but little else.
I was nonplussed and quickly herded us through another little gate into yet another part of the graveyard that leads to a religious school as is used more as a playground then a burial ground. It is more dirty and staying on the path is more important as it seems to be used as a bathroom area as well.
Abe busily removed large stones off the path as we plodded along. I was wrapped up in watching my conscientious son to realize the crowd gathering. I am used to the kids. Used to the crowds but due to vacation days this was more a mob. Numbers were exceeding 50. Abe was completely unaware. He had seen a goat and he was determined that one of the apple intended for the horses should be for the goat. Off he went.
Suddenly I could not see him. However when I called the sea of children parted and out came Abe, a little Moses. We puttered along till the Madrassa and then turned to go back our way blocked by the ever increasing crowd of children, toddlers and teens. Abe started to get flustered. He ran. A dozen or so boys ran about him but they were not touching him too much so I was not too worried. Then he got too far ahead and in the chaos could not hear me. He kept going through a gate and all I could see was him disappear and then a dozen boys go after him. Then I heard crying. I ran like a crazy lady yelling "Stop" at the top of my lungs. All cultural norms were off. I was getting to my boy if I had to jump hurtles.
Thankfully he did not fall in the grave.
Thankfully the boys did not hurt him (well they may have pushed him down and they were grabbing him by one arm but he was not offended.)
Thankfully he fell down which slowed him down.
Thankfully he had no idea how scared I was.
Thankfully I did not fall and Zana thought it was all a big game.
Abe wanted to do it again.
However I was ready to go home. Ready to shut the door of my house but to reach sanctuary we had to walk by the neighborhood hovel. We live near to a couple hundred very poor rickshaw drivers whose families live in tent like communes. I visit one of these large family groups but one of the family groups is not very friendly or careful with their children. They run around filthy and wild. They drag things through the street, they hit each other, they throw things, they are just altogether difficult to walk by but to get home one must go through them. So I hiked up Zana, grappled Abe and marched through that density of humanity and meanness, by the uncle who always demands to know where I am going and where my husband is, by the person visiting in the neighborhood who tried to literally grab Zana out of my arms as I was walking past her, through my gate, past Abe's best friend, through the mud, up a flight and a half of steep stone stairs through the door straight into the bathroom where I stripped and bathed both kids immediately.
Then I sat down and laughed.
It was better than crying.
Last night that same graveyard came alive with all the Male Shias of our city as they mourned by beating themselves with their hands, knives, glass and other sharp objects. We could not get home for awhile the procession blocked our road. Thankfully my kids did not know, did not see, did not understand.
I did not laugh last night.
I cried.
I think it was better than laughing.
It seems so long ago that now I wonder what was so crazy about Thursday.
Here is part two from a Monday's perspective.
We went to play in the graveyard. The usual huge elephant gate with its' tiny human door had a large blood covered sheet hanging above. We walked past the area of worship and burning incense to see the horses. We had two apples, two balls and lots of hope to feed the horses the apples and play with the balls. As we rounded the corner there were no horses but rather a trio of grave diggers covered in dirt but little else.
I was nonplussed and quickly herded us through another little gate into yet another part of the graveyard that leads to a religious school as is used more as a playground then a burial ground. It is more dirty and staying on the path is more important as it seems to be used as a bathroom area as well.
Abe busily removed large stones off the path as we plodded along. I was wrapped up in watching my conscientious son to realize the crowd gathering. I am used to the kids. Used to the crowds but due to vacation days this was more a mob. Numbers were exceeding 50. Abe was completely unaware. He had seen a goat and he was determined that one of the apple intended for the horses should be for the goat. Off he went.
Suddenly I could not see him. However when I called the sea of children parted and out came Abe, a little Moses. We puttered along till the Madrassa and then turned to go back our way blocked by the ever increasing crowd of children, toddlers and teens. Abe started to get flustered. He ran. A dozen or so boys ran about him but they were not touching him too much so I was not too worried. Then he got too far ahead and in the chaos could not hear me. He kept going through a gate and all I could see was him disappear and then a dozen boys go after him. Then I heard crying. I ran like a crazy lady yelling "Stop" at the top of my lungs. All cultural norms were off. I was getting to my boy if I had to jump hurtles.
Thankfully he did not fall in the grave.
Thankfully the boys did not hurt him (well they may have pushed him down and they were grabbing him by one arm but he was not offended.)
Thankfully he fell down which slowed him down.
Thankfully he had no idea how scared I was.
Thankfully I did not fall and Zana thought it was all a big game.
Abe wanted to do it again.
However I was ready to go home. Ready to shut the door of my house but to reach sanctuary we had to walk by the neighborhood hovel. We live near to a couple hundred very poor rickshaw drivers whose families live in tent like communes. I visit one of these large family groups but one of the family groups is not very friendly or careful with their children. They run around filthy and wild. They drag things through the street, they hit each other, they throw things, they are just altogether difficult to walk by but to get home one must go through them. So I hiked up Zana, grappled Abe and marched through that density of humanity and meanness, by the uncle who always demands to know where I am going and where my husband is, by the person visiting in the neighborhood who tried to literally grab Zana out of my arms as I was walking past her, through my gate, past Abe's best friend, through the mud, up a flight and a half of steep stone stairs through the door straight into the bathroom where I stripped and bathed both kids immediately.
Then I sat down and laughed.
It was better than crying.
Last night that same graveyard came alive with all the Male Shias of our city as they mourned by beating themselves with their hands, knives, glass and other sharp objects. We could not get home for awhile the procession blocked our road. Thankfully my kids did not know, did not see, did not understand.
I did not laugh last night.
I cried.
I think it was better than laughing.
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