September 1st, 2009
“For gods sake turn the light off!”
Originally printed in Good Teacher Magazine: Term 2, 2008, pages 28 – 30
“For gods sake turn the light off!” I hiss to Lomlf*. She hurriedly turns the light off in our decrepit garret of a flat in the middle of Goreme. We’re on the second floor and I’m hiding behind the curtain watching a man across the road who seems to be doing nothing. But he has been there for over an hour now. He’s dressed in a long raincoat and dark glasses for goodness sake, even though its night. It looks like the same guy who has been there for 4 days. He seems to be just hanging about there waiting. What for, we don’t know, but it’s getting right up our collective noses. Lomlf seems to think that he‘s also been following her to school. There has been a rumour going around the neighbourhood of a stranger in the area and we have come to the decision that he is a stalker and has targeted Lomlf.
It’s really quite scary and there doesn’t seem to be anything we can do about it. We can’t go to the cops because they’d just laugh and say, “you have to stop wearing those provocative clothes… and you too madam.”
The neighbours while being nice are also very conservative and keep to themselves a lot. So we wouldn’t get any help from them.
It’s really at times like this that you start to think of the security of Newzilde and long for the comforting embrace of the Helenanny state with its unemployment benefit, sickness benefit, accommodation allowance, DPB, etc. etc. However back to reality and the man across the road. What do you do? Who do you talk to? How do you manage in a police state when the police can’t or won’t help?
Lomlf and I have spent the last 4 nights curled up in bed like 2 bananas in a small bunch terrified that this madman is going to break in and do god knows what to us. Luckily up to this point he has been content to stay outside and watch but our nerves are being stretched to breaking point. I honestly don’t know how much more we can take. Lomlf and I have looked at our options. You can’t get a gun and shoot him as that would be murder. We don’t want to run away as we’ve both got jobs and we’ve made some good friends. We can’t just ignore him as you can’t tell what he’ll do next.
One thing that Lomlf came up with was to expose, humiliate or ridicule him so that he wouldn’t be a threat any more. After a lot of discussion and some rather heated moments we decided that this was the only way to go.
The Plan.
Next morning (Monday) I convened a meeting with our newly appointed war council in the war room previously described as my classroom. The war council consisted of me, taking the place of Prime Minister Churchill, and my kids who were loosely described as the war cabinet.
To ensure that secrecy was maintained all windows and doors were taped up to guarantee no conversation escaped. After two kids fainted due to excess heat one window was opened and the largest, but not the brightest, student was placed outside the window to ensure our planning was not overheard. All kids were told to swear and write an oath in their own blood not to tell anyone about our plans. After one child was rushed to hospital with a large cut to a finger (only 3 stitches) caused by his pocket knife I supplied a pin.
Objective:
Organise ambush on as yet unknown assailant. Humiliate assailant to ensure that he leaves area.
Method.
Ensure kids have plentiful supply of ammunition and are aware of target.
Kodak (budding photographer) dispatched to wait outside our flat and get photo of target.
Organise battleground to ensure that we have the upper hand.
Planning.
Discussed with kids what we could use as ammunition.
Ammunition types were
• Old eggs.
• Rotten spuds
• Tomatoes
• Old oranges
Discussion was undertaken on how the soldiers would carry ammunition. Plastic bags were suggested. This was adopted with the suggestion that the plastic bag was threaded through the belt holding up trousers, skirt etc.
Kids were asked to stockpile said ammunition in classroom, in boxes provided.
H day (Humiliate day) was set for Wednesday night. Kids were told to tell their parents that we were having a field day (night).
Tuesday afternoon arrived and the amount of ammunition was accumulating nicely.
Kodak had pretended to be an urchin (he was) and had asked the target if he could take a photo of him for a fee. Target paid the equivalent of $US 1 for the privilege.
Kodak had blown photo up and it was now plastered all over walls of the war room.
Soldiers (war cabinet) now aware of target.
Meeting held on Tuesday afternoon to discuss battleground.
It was decided we needed to get target into the open.
Best place, it was decided, was the middle of road.
It was also discussed… how to get target away from wall.
Moses (no relation to the late great Charlton Heston who’s main claim to fame was his comment on seeing George Bush walk by – (“Where’s a gun when you need one?”) – came up with the idea of one of Lomlf’s students running down the road and being bowled by one of my students on his push bike. Hopefully the target will come away from the wall into the middle of road where he can be bombarded by other kids appearing from doorways.
Positions of children in doorways was ascertained. Timing was… after school and before Target arrived in area. Kids encouraged to act like homeless waifs. It was suggested that they use the loo before they leave school to cut back on inappropriate leakage.
Wednesday afternoon arrived finally though not quickly enough. Lomlf and I had been watching the target outside our flat each night. Our undercover agents had noted the target following Lomlf to school.
Wednesday afternoon and the ammunition was shared out. Most was given to the strongest and most accurate throwers.
It was decided that the throw would be controlled by an order from PM Churchill (me).
Wednesday evening. Dusk. The team are waiting outside our apartment. In disguise. It all looks very real. PM Churchill waiting behind door to flat. Door slightly ajar. PM Churchill watching through crack in the door.
Target seen walking slowly down the road. He looks a little suspicious. Approaches war zone. PM Churchill texts Lomlf to release first child to walk around the corner and down the road.
PM Churchill texts Lomlf to release the next child with its bike.
Bike with child and small child collide convincingly.
Small child lets out a scream as does the child with the bike.
Target looks across. Sees the distressed children and walks into the middle of road. PM Churchill thinks great, nothing could go wrong from here. Screeches FIRE in best Churchillian way. A fusillade of rotten produce appears from doorways and strikes the Target. Target shudders to a halt. Sees children. Sees PM Churchill now exposed from behind door. Sees Lomfl appearing from around corner.
The Target reaches into inside jacket pocket. PM Churchill recognises that target is going for his gun.
FIRE he repeats. Second fusillade of rotten produce hits its target. Target’s rain coat now dripping egg yolk and encrusted with orange and other interesting melange of product. Still keeps advancing toward PM Churchill. Target stands in front of PM Churchill and utters a despairing word as he holds out his wallet showing a warrant card. ………..
“IMMIGRATION” he says.
“Bugger”, says PM Churchill.
It appears that we have overstayed our visa and must leave the country immediately. I ask whether there is a chance of leniency. “Not much”, he says as he spits out an orange pip.
So to round up the nights action. The ambush was a great success.
The young child knocked over by the bike, One broken leg.
Child on bike, 2 grazed knees.
Target, absolutely pissed off.
Lomlf and I, asked to leave country.
Fun had by other kids.
Priceless.
The next day we were summoned into the headmasters office. With a huge grin he told us how unhappy he was to lose us but he had to comply with the government requirements. However he had a friend who ran a school in Florence. Would we like to go there. “Yes please”, said Lomlf without even consulting with me.
Well we start there in 2 weeks so need to finish this and start packing.
Look forward to catching up with you again from the sunny countryside of Tuscany.
All the best
Travelling Teacher
* Lomlf = Love of my life fiona
For privacy reasons all photos are merely representations of the people mentioned in this story.
The Editor takes no responsibility for the Travelling Teachers meandering mind!