{"id":31,"date":"2008-11-12T13:41:00","date_gmt":"2008-11-12T13:41:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/deidremac.com\/?p=31"},"modified":"2024-04-01T16:34:43","modified_gmt":"2024-04-01T16:34:43","slug":"high-kick-trophy-and-bee-wine","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/deidremac.com\/?p=31","title":{"rendered":"High kick trophy and bee wine"},"content":{"rendered":"

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<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/h2>\n

It rained heavily in the night. We swerve to work on the back of the motorbike past water buffalo, swampy rice fields and pagodas. Many people are flinging giant nets across the water. In the staffroom the talk is of escaped fish. All families have their own fish pond. Banks have broken. There are more fish traders hawking their wares on bicycles this morning.<\/p>\n

I am team teaching with Phuong this morning. Phuong takes a mobile phone call mid lesson.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

‘Excu’ me. I must go. My cousin has caught a very big big fis’<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Uneven mud floor, open concrete windows \u2013bars, some of them broken. Beyond the bars, rice fields, eucalyptus trees. I am hot.<\/span><\/span>\u00a0 <\/span><\/span><\/span>I can hear many chickens. The sound of the slow steam train clatters into the classroom. The children repeat my phrases; an echoic chant reminiscent of<\/span><\/span>\u00a0 <\/span><\/span><\/span>Vietnamese car horns.<\/span><\/span>\u00a0 <\/span><\/span><\/span>I feel I must break out of this sealed Solaris sound capsule. Perhaps they can give me instructions instead of repeating what I say. Kitchen.. book, look. Kicking K. kicking K up on the board. I walk up and down the isle between them.<\/span><\/span>\u00a0 <\/span><\/span><\/span>Occasionally I do a high Monty Pythoneque kick and say Kicking K. Both the children and Mr. Thang look surprised. Then I walk slowly. I cup my hand to my ear.. and look invitingly around. One child starts tentatively\u2026 K..kicking.. kick. I smile. My left leg rises even higher in puppet fashion. Then I walk slowly. It comes again.. K..K.. K. They smile knowingly as they give their instruction. I know I am not a pretty sight. My hair is flattened by the motorbike helmet and sweat. My trousers are spattered with mud, but I smile too. The giant decorated drum is sounded for the end of the lesson. <\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Mr. Thang fixes me with his unwavering dark eyes and strides purposefully towards me from the back of the class. Am I to be transferred from class 6c?<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

‘Thi’ new Englis’ teaching.. you are so professional..so professional. I mu’t learn <\/span><\/span>more. <\/span><\/span><\/i>We meet, la’er? But now, you mus’ rest. You mus’ rest. Hm. Well, even I was impressed by the height of my kick, given the heat..and my age.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

I have a free period and choose to observe a music lesson. Mr Nam, the second English teacher, sits beside me at the back of the class. The children’s unified tuneful voices flow out through the open windows, across the flooded rice fields in a symphony with the swaying banana trees and slowly ambling buffalo. I feel strangely peaceful.<\/span><\/span>\u00a0 <\/span><\/span><\/span>Miss Yi accompanies them playing on an old Yamaha synthesiser. Ho looks down benevolently from the giant photograph above the board.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

My Nam gives me a cheeky look.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

‘Ick’l Yacksoo’<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

He says it twice, louder. I am concerned because he is disturbing the class with his repetitive, dreadful English. Then I realise.. Michael Jackson. What, surely he doesn’t mean Michael Jackson? No, it can’t be.. but maybe it is a Vietnamesed version of one of his more mainstream songs? I smile and knod. Of course it isn’t Michael Jackson. Mr Nam edges closer. ‘What you do la’er?’ This must be Mr. Nam’s way of getting to know me better.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Both English teachers approach me at the end of the morning to say they will be taking me back home on the back of their motorbike. I have never felt so sought after. But they don’t stand a chance. I have fallen for Uncle Ho; a case, I am sure, of primitive psychological imprinting. With his twinkly eyes, sensuous lower lip and jaunty neckscarf he gazes down at me wherever I go. Mr Nam wins me as a pillion passenger and hoots all the children loudly as we kick up the dust on the way home. It is possible I am a trophy but not, I am sure, as big a trophy as Phuong’s cousin’s fish.<\/span><\/span>\u00a0 <\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

When we arrive back home the extended family is assembled. Giant fish scales, like honesty seeds line the gutters. We share fish hotpot crammed with handfuls of herbs, spring onions and chilli. Uncle has provided something special. He bears a flagon of golden liquid with a dark murky mass at the bottom. What is it?<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

I’ bees. Dead bees.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

‘You like?<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Bees?<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

‘Is bee wine. Is two years to make.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

The bee wine flows freely.<\/span><\/span>\u00a0 <\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Next day I offer Peter a thimbleful to have with his yoghurt and fruit.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

‘Yes please. This’ll give me a buzz . Within ten minutes he is fast asleep.<\/span><\/span>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

It rained heavily in the night. We swerve to work on the back of the motorbike past water buffalo, swampy rice fields and pagodas. Many people are flinging giant nets across the water. In the staffroom the talk is of escaped fish. All families have their own fish pond. Banks have broken. There are more… Read More »High kick trophy and bee wine<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"neve_meta_sidebar":"","neve_meta_container":"","neve_meta_enable_content_width":"","neve_meta_content_width":0,"neve_meta_title_alignment":"","neve_meta_author_avatar":"","neve_post_elements_order":"","neve_meta_disable_header":"","neve_meta_disable_footer":"","neve_meta_disable_title":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[1,3],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-31","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized","category-vietnam"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/deidremac.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/31","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/deidremac.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/deidremac.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/deidremac.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/deidremac.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=31"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"http:\/\/deidremac.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/31\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":171,"href":"http:\/\/deidremac.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/31\/revisions\/171"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/deidremac.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=31"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/deidremac.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=31"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/deidremac.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=31"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}