I lost my temper with Joanna last week, and yelled at her pretty good. She cried a little and avoided me like the plague, which has made a comeback in Madagascar, by the way. Joanna was tearing the pages out of the books I got her in the U.S., and I nicely asked her to stop. She repeated the offense, but I stayed calm (like Phuong) and again asked her to stop rather nicely. The third time she did it, I lost my temper (unlike Phuong) and yelled at her, which is unforgivable with a 16-month-old girl. Phuong looked at me in horror. Joanna froze for a second, looked at me in horror, and ran to mommy's arms. Joanna didn't stop crying until I left the room. So I left the room, taking all the torn books with me to another room. I taped them back together and returned to Joanna. She was intrepid and smiled when I began reading the torn -- and subsequently repaired -- books to her, especially "My Dad is Beautiful." So, our spat lasted seven minutes, and everything is wonderful again. I wanted to kill myself after I raised my voice, but Phuong said that Joanna needs a dad for a few more years and suggested I wait until she's a teenager. Will do. I realize how unsavory my temper can be -- and I'm sure my first four children will attest to this unpleasant fact. Apologies now mean nothing to my kids, even though I am sorry, but I'm trying to control my temper. For me, temper is not a choice but a reaction. So, I'll accurately say that I am trying hard to control my reactions.
The credit goes to Phuong and all of her family, including Joanna, who seem to have a real understanding of me. They're sympathetic, but not judgmental, of my situation here (yes, here come the excuses). They know it's 94 degrees with miserable weather every day. They know I can't go anywhere here without difficulty of some sort: people waving their hands in my face; waitresses refusing to wait on me while being unwilling to try to understand my Vietnamese, and then staring, laughing and pointing at me with their co-workers; people riding their motorbikes at stupid speeds way too close to me; and kids and adults refusing to wait on me in bookstores and any other business catering to locals only. Sounds like I'm miserable, but honest to God I'm not. Phuong and Joanna keep me smiling. I've developed a small circle of businesses I can go to without inconveniences. I can walk at certain times of the day when people don't see, interact with, or hassle me. The food is awesome (thank you, Phuong). The fruit stand ladies look after me and some of the coffee shops actually understand me when I say "coffee milk hot" / cafe sua nong. Our trips to the park each day are wonderful -- the security guards there smile and chat with us, and the other parents always engage us in a pleasant way. Our Sunday tennis with Tai is a source of joy -- Phuong and I are starting to talk smack with each other again, Phuong's ground strokes are tough, and my game has improved to the point where I can give Tai a tussle and, once in a while, win a match.
None of these good times here would be possible without Phuong and Joanna. I'd be somewhere else, otherwise, probably teaching in Peru, Poland, or Ecuador. My family could end up in one of these places anyway if my country (the United States) doesn't wise up and let me move back home WITH my wife and daughter. Phuong and Joanna have so much to offer that any country unwilling to accept them would be making a big mistake. Right is might, and I'm sure my country will eventually do the right thing.
I'm still battling my sinus and lung infections, taking stronger drugs every day that make me extremely dopey and happy and depressed all at once. Still beats the world of employment, where authority means you're always right and never have to say you're sorry.
No comments:
Post a Comment