This blog, with the title STRANGE CONVERSATIONS, will be used to post some of the weirdest talks I've had with the natives. Now, I know that maybe they may not be weird to you, but hell, they sure are to me. It just seems like these things that are said or done, only seem to happen to me. Why? I guess I just have one of those faces. The natives either like or hate my ugly mug.
- A few years ago, I was working at this school in Føllenslev. It was my second job in Denmark. I know I must have been a sight-to-see for the kids. I was the first American to ever work there and the head mistress made sure to announce this to the whole staff as well as the kids. Eeek!!! So you could imagine, every time I came out of our cleaning room, with my cleaning cart, I had kids following me, but at a safe distance.
Some months passed and being seen on a daily basis, the kids realized that I was not a dangerous predator from the deep jungles of Africa, I started making friends. Most of them were from 0 to 4th grade. (The school had kids from 0 to 9th grade. For my American readers out there, I believe that the kids that are in 0 grade are about 7-years old.)
Anyway, one day, as I was trying to scrub out very dry liver pate off a wall, one of the kids from 1st grade came up to tell me that his mom just had a baby. (At this time, my Danish was still choppy and on the rocks with a slice of lime and salt, but somehow with kids, I could understand what they were saying.) So, we talk about his new brother, school, and Cartoon Network, he reaches over and grabs my hand. He's examining my fingers, turning my hand over and examining my palm, and starts rubbing my skin very lightly. (I'm starting to feel weirded out because I have one of those "space issues", plus I didn't want the teachers to think that I am some kind of freaky deaky pedo.) I pull my hand away and offer him a piece of gum. Then I realize that that's what pedo's offer their victims before they pounce. I get up quickly and start putting my cleaning things back into my buggy, hoping to come back and clean, when the kids are gone. As I am about to leave, the kids tells me that he's noticed that everytime his mom feeds the baby, the milk from her "patte" (Danish version of "teat") was white. Then with an inquisitive look on his face, he asked me if my milk was made out of chocolate, because if so, he wished he was my kid because HE LOVED CHOCOLATE MILK.
I was burning red from embarrassment. WHAT CAN I SAY? I was new to the school. New to working around kids. From the U.S. where parents are so paranoid about sexuality and the Cucuy.
Yeah. I was so guilty that I felt that I had to report the incident. After telling the head and walking out of her office, I felt even more silly. She could not stop laughing. I was assured that everything was o.k. and that they kids were encouraged to be open.
Encouraged my ass! A LA CHINGADA!