Today I taught my usual two classes as
well as a one-hour conversation class with a few of my Elementary
students. They seem to be enjoying the new vocabulary which is “much
more useful” than the vocabulary they get from some of their other
conversation teachers at other places around town. I'm slowly getting
them to come out of their shells. One monk, Jampal, has clearly
studied English before and is much more proficient and comfortable
with the language. He's serving as an “emergency interpreter” of
sorts when either I can't get my point across or the other students
can't sufficiently explain what they want to say. He's also a really
nice guy and a very good student. I'm enjoying having him in class.
After that I headed into McLeod Ganj to
meet up with Palsang for an English lesson. He showed me to a pizza
place I hadn't yet been to, but we only ordered tea. We went over his
homework, he practiced reading from a Tibetan newspaper he has been
carrying around for months, and we did a lesson on when to use
who/where/which in sentences.
From there I headed to the Green Hotel
to wait for the elderly man I'd agreed to help with “a few emails.”
Four and a half hours later, I'm finally sitting comfortably in my
own room for the evening. I figured it would take a little while, but
let me tell you, I am simply exhausted now.
Amram has lived in Dharamsala for the
last 5 years. Apparently, a few years back he was diagnosed with
Parkinson's Disease, which is why his hands shake and he needs a
full-time caretaker. He's in his 60s but looks like he could be a
decade older. He and his Tibetan caretaker, Rosie, showed up a little
later than I expected but it was ok; I got to catch up with some
Facebook messages while I waited.
They got situated at the table and I
set up my laptop. As it turns out, we had to compose an email seeking
funding and also a travel companion for a 6-month trip he wants to
take around India to document the country's Jewish communities.
Amram's hunched body sits rigidly in a chair, his hands always
shaking, and he speaks very quietly. After I read back to him a
couple of times what we'd written he asked me to speak more quietly;
apparently his hearing is still pretty good. We wrote and rewrote,
and then he had me go into his email account and send the message to
most of the people in his contacts list.
Then I had to go into his other email
account.
And his other one. And his other one.
In each, he had me read the names in
his contact list and he'd tell me – in that barely audible voice –
whether I ought to add the person to the list of recipients. I didn't
mind so much when there were only 30 contacts, but when we got to the
account with 92, I have to admit I had a moment of frustration. Oh
well, I figured, I'm invested now, I can't just leave him.
So on we went. Then he asked me to
compose another, shorter email to send to a select few people,
personalizing them just a bit for each one.
Rosie reminded him of the time and
asked him to hurry up. They argued a little; I stayed out of it.
Eventually we got through everything and they called a taxi to take
me home, which was really nice.
What's that saying, Julie, about doing
something for someone who can never really repay you? Not that
writing emails is all that earth shattering or anything, but
Dharamsala certainly seems like a place where there is no shortage of
people who could use a little help.
All things considered, I'm glad I'm
here.
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