This afternoon, class had finished and I was walking out of my school. On either sides of me were streams of students happy to be done for the day. The men, as usual, were standing on the side of the doors at the front of the steps, smoking and conversing with each other. I turned to two of them, said hello, and continued down the steps. Several students saw me and shouted out a quick “Hello!” as they rushed out. All of a sudden I heard one of the male teachers I had greeted begin to yell something. I turned behind me to see who he is yelling at with such eagerness and excitement. He is turned to the right side of the school by the gate the director drives his burgundy Mercedes through each morning. It’s usually never open. Right then, it was definitely open. The teacher was yelling at a student close to the gate. The small boy runs towards it, feverishly swinging his backpack every which way through the air. And that’s when I see it. A cow was attempting to make its entrance onto the campus. As chaotic and nervous as the student was with his wild, almost delirious, movements, the cow was completely calm and gentle in its. It took a few steps past the gate, chomping on something as it entered, saw the boy and simply turned around and walked out.
Cows are everywhere in Neftchala. I saw two of them just lying along the big main street yesterday, just hanging out. They looked so peaceful. I wonder how their owners keep track of them. Usually they’re milling around the trash bins. The trash bins here are these two feet tall, stone walls that are built on the side of the roads. They are three walled and usually do not do a good job containing the trash in any fashion. The trash spills out in every direction. When the garbage truck comes to collect it, about half of it gets left behind. Cows, ducks, geese, chickens, cats, and dogs fight over their meals here. The cows are the most intelligent and ruthless. They can see you coming with new trash bags and immediately begin eyeing it down and walking towards you. The first time a cow started making its way towards me, I panicked, made a big yelp, threw it as far away from me as I could and RAN all the way home.
I used to notice the cows more. I used to notice every single one standing in the street, lying in front of buildings, and rummaging through the trash. I don’t any more. I almost walked into one a while ago. It was sitting on the small dirt road I take to school and was the same brown color as the path. It was a gloomy day, I was rushing to class, and I almost ran into it. Who misses a big cow? When I return to America, will I be just as aware about the lack of cows as I am unaware here of all the surrounding cows? I ask myself these kinds of questions all the time? “Am I weird?” seems to be the recurring one.
This time, friends, I’ll be home…
0 comments:
Post a Comment