Contagious: adj: capable of being transmitted by bodily contact with an infected person or object... used, in English, to reference only two things: disease and laughter.
I rubbed my chilled hands together in vain before I stuffed them between my legs and the soiled bus cushion. The only seat remaining on the bus when I hopped on that frigid morning was the one where you must sit back to the windshield, face to everyone else on the crowded bus. The two middle school students wrestling in the seat and stretching their oft worn uniforms to the limit. The chain smoker who paused only to hack a thick wad of discolored spit onto the bus floor. The butter-smelling nomad grandmother with long braids tied at the back of her head whose wrinkled hands gripped the seat in front of her like the bus was a terrifying roller coaster. The teen girl next to her plugged in to her mp3 player and tuned out to the rest of the world. The grandfather with lopsided hat and one likely loose tooth sitting directly opposite me at the back of the bus and grinning as though he had been waiting all this time to catch my eye... his eyes sparkled, and I nearly burst out laughing.
I arrived at my student's room only to find her in a drowsy haze due to too much medicine and a ferocious cold. In the bitter chill that was her room I, at her request and against my better sense, decided to stay and peeled and chopped potatoes with the cheerful neighbor grandmother who had offered to whip up a bowl of cabbage and dried yak soup for lunch. While my student rested and puttered around I chatted with the grandmother, not a small feat for someone who is only familiar with the Lhasa dialect of Tibetan. At one point she said "ketsahla ribe?" (_______ isn't it?) knowing only that she had asked a question I replied "ketsah nga ngo shinkimendu" (ketsah I don't know) at which she nearly fell off the tiny wooden stool laughing... turns out "ketsah" means "strange" in Tibetan... which was funny because I know exactly what strange is, being so strange myself. The grandmother was so delighted at what she was sure was a joke she stuffed my pockets full of walnuts when I headed out the door.
Later I stood at another crowded bus stop cautiously eying the old man wheezing some mucusy substance into his glove and hoping that he wouldn't be on my same bus. Just then I was greeted by a Tibetan girl that I recognized but couldn't place, we chattered on in Tibetan a while and discovered that we were waiting for the same bus. Relieved to have company while riding on a human sardine can I offered her some walnuts which she received from my pockets as though it were the most natural thing in the world to walk around with lumpy pockets full of walnuts.
When I arrived at the dusty edge of town to visit my friend I felt that chill that creeps into your feet when Lhasa winter sets in. Soon forgotten, as we spent the next few hours in her tiny room, making noodles, singing Tibetan and English Christmas songs, trying on her clothes to both of our wild amusement. When I slipped into her Tibetan coat that smelled exactly like the sheep it was made out of I couldn't help but burst into giggles which we both shared until the walls themselves were practically shaking. Come more she said as we parted.
At home the, now becoming quite familiar, tap tap at the door signaled my tiny five year old neighbor had dropped by for a visit. I let her in to my house and noted immediately that she carried with her a tiny plastic bag of all the drawings she had ever made at my house which was considerable as she unfolded each of them to remind me, coughing in my face all the while. I let her draw some more and we watched 'The Emperor's New Groove' together, a movie which makes absolutely no sense whatsoever if you can't understand what they're saying. She made the movie funnier than ever in her endless imitations of the characters' expressions and continued to cough so hard that her tiny body shook and I wondered about her health and the movie went off and I took her back to her house.
The classroom the next day felt more like a meat freezer to me than a classroom where nearly fifty live human being sat waiting to be taught. I walked into it anyway and was greeted by a sniffle and cough from my co-teacher who handed me the lesson for the day. I made the wise decision to keep my jacket on and buttoned up which made writing notes on the board a little awkward to say the least. Needing more room on the board, I reached for the eraser which promptly fell apart in my hands. Escaping from my mouth was a Tibetan phrase 'kadre chenson?' (what happened?) which caused riotous laugher from the students and one plucky boy piped up and said You know it's made in China Ms. Kelly. I almost had to cancel class I was laughing so hard.
So this week I've had an abundance of merriment, I've also come down with a cold you wouldn't wish on your worst enemies... it's just contagious.
