Mozambique Letter #4

Hello! Hello.

It seems that the gulf between here and there grows with each passing day making it harder and harder to summarise things. And yet, here is a chance to tell you all, I'm in front of a computer screen at last, so here goes a spontaneous composition.

Am indeed ankle deep in this Mozambique stuff now.

I'm halfway through the second semester of three in teaching 11th grade English. This week, took off on Tuesday, with my colleague agreeing to cover my Thursday classes. I left for tourist heaven: Vilanculos, with my good bud Priscilla. It's Priscilla's last month in country before she leaves our town of Machanga for her home in Sao Paulo, Brazil. She is a Mennonite Volunteer living at a girls' dormitory in Machanga. Machanga's quite small and we're the two muzungus there. Besides circumstances, we've built a really nice friendship! Time is forever widening the gulf of circumstances between us - family and friends, but fortunately, there are always new souls, kindred spirits that come into the picture. And what a blessing they are. I am happy to introduce her to beautiful Vilanculos and to Camila who is another volunteer and friend living here. Camila and I have really hit it off as well, so I was really happy for these two to meet one another and for us to spend glorious time here, eating, watching movies, and so forth. Every time I come here I end up having dinner with someone from Argentina, Spain, France...Always interesting company. And Camila's home is beautiful. She and I have similar attitudes about food, that it a communal aspect of friendship and comfort. In short, it's always great fun coming here.

Yesterday was Priscilla's birthday. We paid 2000 mets. (70 dollars?) to take a boat out with two nice couples, on out to the islands around Vilanculos. There is a reef around one such island that we went snorkleing in. After a great meal made on the boat and served on shore, and Priscilla learned to relax in the water (her first time snorkeling) it was glorious. I felt I was inside the aquarium with the water flow and all. Every look down into the water revealed a new kind of fish. And there's one I saw in the guidebook! Three colors! I floated into a giant school of them, and their indifference made me feel like a large fish, in strange incognito. Strange how such delicate flowers grow on the hard corral. I got a circular cut on my arm (a souvenir) that bled bright red. Where else can one get a circular cut? I told Priscilla I feel like in Machanga I'm pretending to be poor and here I felt I was pretending to be rich. The company dispelled this feeling. The two couples and crew greatly added to the adventure. One was a cute couple from the Canadian Rockies. He is a mountain guide and she a cook for geological expeditions in the Ukon. They asked me what Romania was like, and after gushing about it for some minutes I finished. "Thank you!" I said. Being here, I really haven't had a chance to speak about my time in Romania. My friends there became extended family and the country thusly became very dear to me. An opportunity to speak about it was a great relief. I was writing some letters to friends there some months back and finished realized for some hours I was there in Romania with them. It's amazing how imagination, technology, and mail can have that effect. And yet, as the days pass by, children grow up. My cousins' kids will be 10 before I've had 2 conversations with them. My nephew is already a toddler, those infant years behind him. So, while we remain connected, and imagination and cell phones shrink distances, there is still the chasm of distance that leads my path further from the home and the friends I know. But, enough nostalgia and contemplation. Back to our trip.

The other two were a German couple who had spent 6 years living in Virginia and the last 6 in South Africa. He was a Science teacher there. One of their children was born there and has thus dual citizenship.

It's amazing how much of the world has a connection to 'my' country.

So, best wrap this up.

About the snorkeling: it was like being a star floating among constellations. The fish seemed drugged in their responses to what was surely an alien invader. As I bumped and scraped against the corral trying to make like a jet flying (all of one yard underwater) amongst deep corral canyons, I realized how ridiculous and ill suited I was made for this terrain.

About Machanga and school: kids are learning. Rediscovering levity as I get comfortable in my teaching style. I've been playing games again as I used to with my kindergardeners in Romania. Everyone it seems loves games and candy. It's especially helpful with my night class. They get awfully antsy as the sun sets and it helps to have something active for them to do.

I'm hoping to take a cue from Prisicilla and move into the dorm on campus and eat what they eat/ live their conditions some. Really, isolated as I am in the teacher's compound, I feel comparatively wealthy, which is not my aim. With the boys, I'll be eating corn meal and beans everyday and have less privacy, but as trade off, greater integration, comaraderie, and hopefully initiative to see projects through that benefit them.

I'll let you know how it goes when next I check in.

Until then,

yours sincerely,

M.C.

Mozambique Letter #3

Mozambique Letter #3

Ok...Hope you all got the photo links below available on my facebook page. All taken during Oct. -Dec. in Pre Service Training, time spent with my fantastic host family.


http://www.facebook.com/media/set/fbx/?set=a.10150167754442490.307739.510787489&l=c687f78f0e



http://www.facebook.com/media/set/fbx/?set=a.10150167748662490.307735.510787489&l=72db557cf5



http://www.facebook.com/media/set/fbx/?set=a.10150167712482490.307725.510787489&l=428a9e14ce



Since then, my camera and laptop have died. Sorry, but little I can do.


Well, what news, recollections, word play might I shoot out at this late hour?

Recollections from the month behind me.

1. Finally spent a weekend at the dormitory. They eat corn meal polenta with beans everyday. I asked one of my students as we passed - ¨rice and beans for dinner it seems!¨ His response: (in perfect English) "Everyday the same fucking thing!" It was tolerable for one meal. I can~t imagine it for lunch and dinner everyday of the week. Until this past week, they~ve been eating in the dark with no light bulbs for the cafeteria. At least the stars are pretty. On the upshot, they really appreciated my staying there. I headed with them in the morning out to the matu to chop wood and carry back. On Friday nights they play music and dance in the courtyard until it~s 9pm curfew and lights out. They~re very good dancers, cheering each other on.

2. Had a great time sharing games with the kids. They~re doing a talent show every Sunday now - which is essentially glorified Karioke, but you can~t hear their voices over the soundtrack. But, they dance and everyone cheers them on as they bustamove. People come up and put money in their pockets or fling packeted condoms at them that they got for free from the hospital. I heard about football players using condoms to hold their socks up. Rest assured. Mozambicans have access to condoms. Afterwards, I~m leading games - like hoops on bottles, frisbees at targets, knock the cans and limbo. The kids would answer a true or false question about AIDS and get to play. If successful, a candy their prize. Even something small and symbolic like this means a lot to them. These kids are very ready for a good time. Really, Mozambicans in general don~t get angry, and if they do, they~re always one break away from a laugh.

3. This past week was an all around success. I had one day that left me feeling like super volunteer. Up at 5 am to jog for 30 min. Home to sweep and mop out the dust. Pushups. Jumping rope. Meditation. To the garden to attack the enormous termite mound. Inside combs, like in a hive. I saved them. People asked - what for? I shrugged my shoulders - I don~t know! But they~re very cool. I had an audience as I whacked away at this five foot thing. Really, you don~t need to do much to attract an audience here. Later that day I got my peanuts (plentiful here) and sought out a neighbor with mortar and pestle. For 45 minutes worked at pilaring peanut flour. This requires sifting too. I am the integration king. And yes. It~s women~s work.~ Why don~t you get a woman to do that stuff for you? my neighbor asks? But, I did not come here to have servants. With no dependents, no maid, no money spent on beer, and little travel, my costs are low and I am left feeling in this poor community quite wealthy. I am going to try and start eating at the dormitory more and putting my money back into the school. With the kids I feel integrated; appreciated. The teachers have their own lives and duties. In the teachers community I can spend the whole day in my house, quite isolated. A visit can be bothersome. But, with the kids, I feel like I~m where I should be. We~ll see where this goes, but it~s already showing promise in my burgeoning relationships with my students.

4. Great classes. Getting my mojo back. In Romania in front of kindergarten classroom audiences I was a circus ringmaster, clown, and acrobat rolled into one English Teaching Machine. The children laughed. Applauded. I gave them stickers and candy and they loved me for it. On the streets, riding my bicycle they would call out, kids throughout many neighborhoods. Now I teach 20 year olds. Classes of 64/69. You can understand if I~ve lost some of my tap dancing confidence. Now that I know many of their names and can call them out when they~re running their yap when I~m trying to talk, I~ve regained some of that composure. I~m more cocksure. I can kid now that I can scold (effectively). Outside of class I~m having fun conversations with the high achievers and now, some of the lower achievers too. I~m beginning to reach more and more and it takes time.

Last one.

5. Food. No cheese, but coconut milk and papayas and peanuts galore. Everything is awesome with coconut milk in it. You grate the thing then pour warm water over the gratings and squeeze, squeeze, squeeze. Sooo good. Use it to cook in whatever. It~s good on wood shavings. Trust me. This past two weeks made tomato peanut curry with coconut milk and another night pasta with spicy peanut and garlic sauce. Mmm. Food. 11 year old Frisbee playing savant, Nandu who despite being the Superintendant~s son goes most nights without dinner, has learned if he hangs out long enough at my place, I~ll feed him. My revenge is I~ll teach the kid Englishuwhile I cook and maybe send him on an errand here and there. Good kid, that Nandu. And just nasty on the frisbee field. The kid doesn~t talk much, preferring pantomime when possible, but get him on the frisbee field and the kid~s all business taking on others twice his height and leaving them in the dust. Seriously. He~s better then me.

So. That~s the large and small of it.

Other anecdotes to come as they occur and internet access makes itself available.

So close this 140 am mass email. And off I to sleep.

Night all. Goodnight Jesse.

luv,

Micah

Doings of late and a bit of venting

I've not been able to write in my journal of late, and in a way I feel like I've been looking in anyways with the ever changing schedule I keep.

I had a good week and want to share. Being in Peace Corps, I have lots of leeway to define my schedule. At times, I pressure myself to be busy, busy, busy. I think to myself: I could be doing more ECO Clubs, I could be taking on more English courses, I could be visiting the village outside town and the hospital. It's something of a habit of mine: putting too much on my plate. But, motivation runs everything and I'm not a TEFL volunteer (Teaching English as a Second Language) so, why overburden myself with classes? I get to define my schedule, so why not use this to my benefit!

Many of my in the works projects are bearing fruit. This presentation at the American Corner Library fulfilled a long term goal. While in Cluj, I had lots of time with Sean, my former site mate. We ate Indian food he'd prepared, went to interesting coffee shops, and met up with other volunteers and friends. One night we met up at a mansion with many Americans. An interesting mix! Gays and Christians! At the clubs were groups of foreign volunteers. Being overseas you come into contact with all kinds of interesting groups - and our foreignness brings us together. I've never met so many Christians - American included - since coming out here. I've met Mormons, Pentecostals, visiting groups of Baptists and more. Not having known many Pentecostals and 'Non-demoninationals' before, I had only media stereotypes to work off of - and the stereotypes (as they often tend to be) were more negative then positive. I'm a bit embarrassed I've had so little contact before now.

So, while in Cluj I was able to visit the Gay Club. Nearly empty! But this allowed me time to finish a play I'd written and am now directing for a high school drama competition! I met today for the third time with my high school troupe and it's been lots of fun. It's really a great opportunity.

I had some great classes this week - out at the church and with the kindergartens. I envisioned a project to fund for the church. I work mostly with a woman named Carmen there. I've been training her to teach English. The kids are all very poor but very cute. Their community is very lucky for their Church. Their ministry is really alive - feeding the kids, giving after school programs, bible study, opportunity to learn instruments, sing, etc. These kids home lives are often very difficult. I'm lucky that I can help them with English. Kids without means to have a private tutor at home quickly fall behind here. So, starting them early and giving the teenagers extra help is important.

The Church driveway is mud and the backyard is also sticky mud. There are some pitiful looking play equipment there. I'm hoping we can get that backyard paved. Asking how much it would cost, Carmen estimated about 500 lei. It's not a large yard - about 10 x 8 yards. 500 lei is about 300 dollars. The driveway would be about double that. So, for about 700/800 dollars we could get the back and the driveway paved. This would save on cleaning when kids come and provide a place to play. Right now the community has no paved place to play. The bathroom is an outhouse with no lights. Carmen said they'd need tiles. I've really taken to the kids and to Carmen who is a real saint for the work she does there. I too, tutor Sergio the church's pastor in English and he too is a great guy. I hope I can help them. I'd love to leave the church with a finished play space and a properly outfitted bathroom.

It's an interesting contrast here. I work with these hyper fluent (in English) middle class teenagers in town, and then there's kids and adults who go through the dumpsters down my street. Teenagers who don't know how to spell their name. And they live in the same neighborhood as teenagers who can put computers together, dress fashionably, and will be successful college graduates: engineers, computer technicians, etc.

I'm happy for being part of the church to have some positive constructive contact with poor people and Gypsies (Roma) in particular. I have all but given up trying to educate my friend about stereotypes and simply settled to saying: 'Don't say it around me.'

Last night, her 5 year old teased us calling us: 'Gypsies!' I can't stand to hear this kid being taught this is okay. She explained to me: when he doesn't want to go to school I tell him: 'do you want to be one of those kids who goes through the garbage can? Those uneducated kids?' She (and almost everyone) constantly say things: 'Don't talk with your mouthful like a Gypsy.' 'I was all dirty, like a Gypsy.' 'I stole this thing from you, like a Gypsy.'

Such things are said with Gypsy friends around. My friend who makes such comments has a Gypsy colleague and Roma students. She doesn't go out of her way to be mean to anyone and there's one student of hers who she'll give food and odd jobs to. But then, she'll turn around and say: 'I think if I was a Gypsy and I married a Romanian, I would be proud.' (And if the marriage were to another Gypsy, this would not also be worthy of pride?)

This friend of mine is great in countless ways, is my best friend here in town, feeds me and my friends, is a good mother, is a great person. But hers and Romania's racism drives me absolutely crazy. Being in a different country, another culture really forces you to be open-minded and to fight judging others. Racism everywhere is ugly. Racists can be good people. Roma People have to be the ones to change and direct their destiny first. Their movement is very young. So...best to simply leave it to God.

So, after Cluj I had a great time with my meditation circle with friends Sorin and Adriana. Also in attendance - good friend Juba (Hungarian) and Carolyn (American.) I took a ride with Juba from Cluj. When I arrived at his place, I got the Romanian treatment. First was some bread and cheese and jelly which I filled up on not having breakfast. Then came soup. (uh-oh!) Already full and I'm at the beginning of a 3 course meal! This isn't the first time this has happened to me. But really! Would you ever drop in on someone unexpectedly and find yourself being treated to a three course meal of homemade food? This is the kind of thing I'll so miss of course with my friends who are for me, the face of Romania.

movie: 'Precious'

Today is Saturday. I've been trying to watch all the Oscar nominated films and just finished watching 'Precious.' The movie is produced by Oprah and Tyler Perry. Would this story have come to screen without these producers?

I'm writing this for two reasons today. One - about something that happened in the middle of my viewing; the other for a review I read.

First, about the movie: It's a hard tale from 1987, inspired by the book 'Push.' The director was behind the movies: 'The Woodsman,' with Kevin Bacon, and 'Monster's Ball.' Central to the director's life and Oprah's as well are themes of poverty, abuse, and rape - both things that these two have experienced in their life.

Precious is 16 years old and pregnant with her second child. She is a Republican's worst nightmare. Her mother, sits fat off the welfare system while she grooms her daughter for the same. Precious's mother tells her she wish she'd aborted her, that she's a dummy, and beats her. Precious has never had a boyfriend. Her children are from her father. Her mother we find is so terrible to her because she resents her for 'stealing her man.' Grim stuff. Believe it or not, that's not the worst of it, but I don't want to give any more away.

The story follows a somewhat predictable story arc of redemption through education and the entry of people who -for once in her life - give a damn. She begins learning to read, finding friends in her small GED class, and manages to get away from her mother.

It's a tough story, but one that needs telling - and it shows how dreams can shelter us. Mention the word 'dream,' in front of some people, and you'll face snickering. One critic (in the minority) felt he'd take the air out of the good reviews:

"Daniels (the director) doesn’t really have subjects — they’re pawns, campy cut-outs at best — and even then he’s so readily bored by them he allows screenwriter Geoffrey Fletcher to saddle them with clichés and platitudes."

"Equally embarrassing: every second Lenny Kravitz appears on screen. That casting alone identifies Precious for what it is: an extended group-hug, a chance for slumming posh celebrities to show how 'real’ they are. The only problem? There’s no 'real’ here."

Now contrast that with these words from the director:

“One of my earliest memories is of being put in a trash can,” he says in a quiet voice. “I was 5 years old. My dad was playing cards with some of his friends. I put on my mother’s red high heel shoes because they looked pretty to me. He saw me and he got furious. He said I was gay and would never amount to anything, and he threw me in a trash can. And I remember the only way I could deal with it was to escape to a fantasy world. That’s what gave me the idea for the fantasy scenes in the movie, which were not in the book.”

I think this critic gave such a negative review because he doesn't trust the director; the artist. I know a lot of people don't like abstract art - they don't understand where it's coming from and fear they're being manipulated. Many people distrust religion for the same reason - I'm being manipulated. They turn off the news - 'they're trying to scare me.' They're getting angry at their friends: 'You're condescending to me.' They write blogs about politics with vitriolic anger at the other political side. What if we were to open our hearts and trust? I think many fear we would be moved to compassion, and that would put us in a weak position.

I think that most people's lack of trust - be it in the director of this movie, or in friends, teachers, family, or in music, abstract art, intellectuals, or others - comes from a fear of being open to feeling. Such detachment - in review a movie, responding to beggar's, or tuning out other's quiet pleas for help, lead us to avoid being compassionate in our lives; perhaps doing things a different way.

Halfway through watching this movie, my doorbell rang. I wasn't expecting anyone. It was a woman who has visited me before. Last time she asked for food as she was this time - for her two children. I gave her half a loaf of bread. She came back again a few minutes later - I was sure to ask for more; money perhaps. She'd recieved an open container of soup upstairs and wanted to know if I had a container with a lid. I told her to wait; took the soup, closed the door.

My friend once quoted Jesus to me: (to paraphrase) "Don't throw parties and invite your friends, and feed them. You'll receive back from them in time. Invite in the poor and hungry to your homes, for you'll find your reward in heaven." (I'll work to update this quote properly)

Thinking about this, I returned to invite her inside. We spoke in my foyer as I placed the soup into containers for her. I learned she is expecting a third child, has no husband, and that her oldest child is three. She asked if I had diapers as her child was wetting the bed and that she had resorted to using cellophane. Undoubtedly, she and her children sleep in the same bed.

I put on my coat and we went to the store to buy pampers. I encouraged her to see the church in town who can help, and when kindergarten begins next year, to send her oldest child. I asked her if she went to kindergarten. She told me she couldn't remember. She said she didn't have the conditions to go. She told me she could do odd jobs - beat my rugs and clean. Thinking of this very pregnant woman beating my rugs breaks my heart. It reminds me of when I meet the very old in the States at the cashier register - they forced to work despite being 70, 75. Why don't we care for one another? We parted ways and I returned to finish watching the movie.

I was moved to compassion by this movie. I recently watched 'The Blind Side,' as well and was similarly moved. I wonder how one person can take on every difficulty which one encounters. We can't take in every stray cat. We can't always give to the hungry. I need money for traveling around Europe - I can't give to Haiti. These are always excuses that I use to not do something; to put off being compassionate. Compassion is never as easy as apathy.

I only hope that hearing this, you who's reading this is moved to act compassionately towards another. This probably means continuing what you're doing - loving your children, brothers, friends, coworkers as much as possible. Or maybe it means you have to try harder - to give the next time someone asks for help. Or volunteer. Sometimes the person most in need is ourself, and we're not giving enough to our own self. What matters is that we feel compassion and reassurance. Then we, like the character from this movie can stand tall and encourage those around us to do likewise.

My cats

So, of all things to report - that would seem important to blog about - 2 birthday parties for my 30th, getting into Mozambique, upcoming projects, what I'm signing into write about tonight is my first quiet night home in a while. I finished reading 'Charolette's Web,' which is plain nice. I have these two cats right now whom I've really bonded with. I'm caring for them until they're adopted out. They were hand raised after being saved from a dumpster by another volunteer. They're so friendly they'll sit on my chest while I read. I'll find myself drowning in cat. They're siblings -a boy and a girl. The girl and I talk. She's very cute. The boy is intense - doesn't make eye contact like the girl or speak - but if I'm sitting for more then a moment, he's in my lap rubbing against my face. A little much. So, tonight I took a bath. And he jumped up and was pawing at the water. I realized he was trying to dig the water like he's accustomed to his litter. How strange that despite his digging it never got deeper! Of course they have a bowl of water available them all the time, but never a full bath tub! It was so pleasant to watch him experience the phenomenon of water for the first time and made me appreciate it more. He dipped his paw in the water, shook it out, dipped again, licked his paw, and went back to trying to dig the water. Such is the life of a cat under house arrest: extremely sheltered.

Merry Christmas!

I am really quite poor at posting on here, but hey - I'm good for one every four months or so. Usually, like letters and poetry, it becomes glaringly apparent my need to write.

Today, this need to write made itself known after a visit from a friend and colleague. She called to bring me many homemade cakes, a can of beer, a pot of soup, and some fruit. For some minutes we went over how I should heat the soup, let it cool on the balcony, and tomorrow eat it. Did I mention she brought me a homemade cozonac? (fruitcake)

This came tonight after an overnight in Cluj. My friends' friend put us up. Dana and Adina are old childhood friends. Adina like Dana has a young child. Raluca is in kindergarden and is slightly older then Andy who is still in preschool. Raluca was very excited to have an American visiting. She asked if we Americans were responsible for the financial crisis.

We had a great evening dancing to Christmas tunes with the kids, eating dinner and cakes. It is really a beautiful thing to see parents so in love with their children.

Today we went to the mall. The kids got to go on a carousel, play in the kiddie gym where are ball pits, mats, and such. Afterwards, a lunch at McDonald's with Happy Meal.

We left Adina's returning home. At Dana's she heated me some vegetarian sarmale (stuffed cabbage leaves) that was left over from our Christmas dinner to take home.

I am just so humbled by the warmth and generosity of my Romanian friends. Romanians are so giving it's incredible. If you want homemade food, copious amounts of it, homemade brandy and wine pushed on you, warmth and cheer, come to Romania.

I love Romania.

Merry Christmas, everyone!

Happy Talk Like a Pirate Day

Great pirate talk to impress your friends!
An excerpt from Moby Dick: Stubbs exhorations to the crew as they pursue a whale in their first lowering in the long boats. Stubbs is my favourite character. Something about walking that fine line between insanity and joy...

Pull, then, do pull; never mind the brimstone --devils are good fellows enough. So, so; there you are now; that's the stroke for a thousand pounds; that's the stroke to sweep the stakes! Hurrah for the gold cup of sperm oil, my heroes! Three cheers, men --all hearts alive! Easy, easy; don't be in a hurry --don't be in a hurry. Why don't you snap your oars, you rascals? Bite something, you dogs! So, so, so, then; --softly, softly! That's it -- that's it! long and strong. Give way there, give way! The devil fetch ye, ye ragamuffin rapscallions; ye are all asleep. Stop snoring, ye sleepers, and pull. Pull, will ye? pull, can't ye? pull, won't ye? Why in the name of gudgeons and ginger-cakes don't ye pull? --pull and break something! pull, and start your eyes out! Here! whipping out the sharp knife from his girdle; every mother's son of ye draw his knife, and pull with the blade between his teeth.
That's it --that's it. Now ye do something; that looks like it, my steel-bits. Start her --start her, my silver-spoons! Start her, marling-spikes!
Stubb's exordium to his crew is given here at large, because he had rather a peculiar way of talking to them in general, and especially in inculcating the religion of rowing. But you must not suppose from this specimen of his sermonizings that he ever flew into downright passions with his congregation. Not at all; and therein consisted his chief peculiarity. He would say the most terrific things to his crew, in a tone so strangely compounded of fun and fury, and the fury seemed so calculated merely as a spice to the fun, that no oarsman could hear such queer invocations without pulling for dear life, and yet pulling for the mere joke of the thing. Besides he all the time looked so easy and indolent himself, so loungingly managed his steering-oar, and so broadly gaped --open-mouthed at times --that the mere sight of such a yawning commander, by sheer force of contrast, acted like a charm upon the crew. Then again, Stubb was one of those odd sort of humorists, whose jollity is sometimes so curiously ambiguous, as to put all inferiors on their guard in the matter of obeying them.
Sing out and say something, my hearties. Roar and pull, my thunderbolts! Beach me, beach me on their black backs, boys; only do that for me, and I'll sign over to you my Martha's Vineyard plantation, boys; including wife and children, boys. Lay me on --lay me on! O Lord, Lord! but I shall go stark, staring mad: See! see that white water! And so shouting, he pulled his hat from his head, and stamped up and down on it; then picking it up, flirted it far off upon the sea; and finally fell to rearing and plunging in the boat's stern like a crazed colt from the prairie. Look at that chap now, philosophically drawled Stubb, who, with his unlighted short pipe, mechanically retained between his teeth, at a short distance, followed after -- He's got fits, that Flask has. Fits? yes, give him fits --that's the very word -- pitch fits into 'em. Merrily, merrily, hearts-alive. Pudding for supper, you know; --merry's the word. Pull, babes --pull, sucklings -- pull, all. But what the devil are you hurrying about? Softly, softly, and steadily, my men. Only pull, and keep pulling; nothing more. Crack all your backbones, and bite your knives in two -- that's all. Take it easy --why don't ye take it easy, I say, and burst all your livers and lungs!

I love it.