a 'good' whipping.

My little buddy sat on the salmon-colored examination bench. He had
dropped his pants and they hung around his ankles as he sat bare
butted. His bandage was dirty and I peeled the grippy tape from his
little leg. The tape sticks SO well to dry skin. In fact, as I
peeled it off, the top layer of brown skin came off with it. Almost
healed was a clean slice about 3 inches long on his upper
thigh. The dressing change only required washing the healed wound
with bleach water and scrubbing some of the dirt from around the
edges. It really looked quite good. I asked him if it hurt as I
washed it. He said, "No, it's ok." As I put another piece of tape
over the wound, I asked him how this happened. I thought it was a
weird place for an injury like this. He said, "My teacher hit
me." Uhg. This kid had to come to the hospital because his teacher
hit him with a stick. The stick had cleanly laid open his his
leg. I felt ANGRY. I finished my shift and went home.
Showing up at home is usually such a joyful time because the kids
come running to greet me and there is usually food on the little coal
fire. Everyone is so relaxed and usually laying on grass mats just
talking. I love it. But today was different. Everyone was kind
of tense. I went and got my things to shower and walked towards the
little mud enclosure where we shower and pee....(the same
place...yes, I know). Right before I went in though, I heard some
commotion. I turned around and saw Izeedoor (remember he's one of
my favorites) and Tony (he's twelve and one of my other favorites),
arguing with eachother. Then out of nowhere, Jezue (the
oldest...he's married and just had the new baby) came onto the scene
and he was furious. I have never seen him like that (except one time
when he got into a fight with the neighbor). Usually he is so
kind; so compassionate and loving. So I was a little shocked. He
came out of nowhere with a long stick in his hand. He started
whipping both of the boys and yelling things I didn't
understand. His first hit broke the stick over Izeedoors
shoulder. My heart cracked. The next few hits made my muscles
tense all up. Tony escaped but Izeedoor got caught by the neck of
his shirt and dragged over under the central tree in our
courtyard. Jezue reached up and broke off another branch from the
tree with his one free hand. Izeedoor got the whipping of his life.
I couldn't watch. I knew I couldn't stop this. There were people
I respected alot that were simply letting this situation play
out. I just went into my hut and sat on the edge of my cot. I
just could not bear to watch.
I've sat on the edge of that cot many times after shocking
situations here in Bere. It's a familiar position now. When the
screaming stopped it was replaced by crying. Just sobbing. I went
out and walked over to Jolie, my mother here. I asked her why he
was treated like this. She told me that Izeedoor had insulted his
uncle...that he is little and needs to respect his elders...that it
was good that he got this beating. Uhg. I told her it was not
good for my heart. She nodded that she understood. Izeedoor stayed
hidden behind the tree for the next two hours. I wanted to go over
and just hug him, but culturally, I needed to let him stay there and cry.
Just because something is CULTURAL doesn't mean it's right. I am
learning that this is true. I am also learning that BECAUSE
something is cultural, you must understand the culture before you
pass judgment. Deep down...actaully....no, not even that deep
down...pretty superficially...fairly clearly...I knew this was not
right though. I hated seeing him hit so hard. I hated seeing such
unharnessed anger.
This last summer I worked at camp and we watched the NOOMA videos
(by Rob Bell) on Sabbath mornings for staff worship. One of them
was about anger. It said that anger is not bad in itself. It said
that God was angry at times and there were times when Jesus was
motivated by anger into some action. But it talked about how the
way that you channel your anger is what determines the purity of
it. Does it motivate you to bring about rightness and
goodness...bettering the situations that are wrong? Or does is
motivate you into simple revenge; perhaps hate, grudges or uncontrolled rage.
I have so much to learn and I was talking to Samedi (the dad of my
household and the head nurse at the hospital) this morning over
breakfast and I said, "Samedi, I have so many questions but I don't
have enough French to understand the answers yet." He laughed and
said, "You'll get there, Emily."