Up On The Roof

The sun is setting and the heat of the day radiates up from the cement of the rooftop. There are two levels and from the upper level I can see a woman pacing to and fro without stopping. Above the wall of men there are guards standing about in small groups, some with arms folded, others pacing as well. I see the neighbor boys directly below; they spot me immediately and wave with a smile after I smile at them. A parked truck is loaded with carpets, blankets and other house wares; the peddler is doing his evening rounds. Red, yellow, and blue dresses hang from the back of his truck, a shop on wheels. A boy pedals hard up the hill on a red bike, it looks brand new, and then he tears back down the hill, hands in the air, looking quite triumphant. A very small girl with red trousers and yellow top watches him, standing in the middle of the street. A car comes by, maintaining its speed and steering around her. 

Our two remaining teachers spend time grading papers and then come out on the roof to have a cigarette. I am teaching class to the end of this week and then will work for the school in other ways until July 12th. I have developed a teaching technique that somewhat controls the kids and helps us manage to get through some of the book. Loud voice, asking direct questions of individuals, and giving lots of writing tasks. It works well for the early classes, the later ones are less responsive. I finish the five and a half hours with a sore throat and sweaty body. The kids who are the most disruptive give me the best hugs as they go out the door. I feel completely conflicted over what I am doing.

It is 7:20 and the call to pray goes out. AJ throws darts and Micca talks about how she misses her dog. We are together in this house, doing time, working hard, hoping for better times. I would like to go to the Rafah border Gaza sit in where some friends from the DC fast to shut down Guantanamo are now. But I have run out of steam and organizational skills to change flights. The Suli kids, and the Gaza kids. Last night I had a dream about some kids jumping from a bridge into a river; they had given up. Laughter floats up from the street as the nearby children play.