Monday, August 3, 2009

Animal City

Shatila camp
Sunday - August 2 - 2009

Facilitator: Lina

After finally antagonizing the lion enough to see him roar (mission accomplished), the kids were ready for the ultimate grand finale: bumper cars. I’m not sure why whoever invented bumper cars made them as two-seaters, because inevitably there will always be disagreements on which of the two kids gets to sit behind the steering wheel. To prevent disputes, we decided to have a “switch break” mid-way between each go-round so each kid could have a turn to drive. Fair and simple.

I noticed a bit of a scuffle between two of our girls after one of our switch-breaks. Though even in the passenger seat, after already having her turn to drive, her hands were outstretched and on the wheel, smushing aside her poor friend, who was supposed to be the actual driver. Ultimately, her friend didn’t allow too much of this for too long, so, the alpha girl got up out of the car, and went off and pouted.

I asked her to come sit next to me, and I was surprised, she did. I pinched the bottom of her neck with my thumb and forefinger, just above the shoulders, where if you do it right, one can’t help but to not coil up the shoulders a bit. I don’t know why, but I always feel the need to give a little pinch of love to a pouter. I feel they need a dual message that says, “yeah, I know it seems unfair to you, and I feel for you a bit, but… get over it.” Usually both messages are well received through the neck pinch.

My whole "speech" to her was in English. And her whole speech back to me was in Arabic. Though I didn’t fully understand what she was saying, I knew exactly what she was saying, just from her furrowed brows alone. When I spoke, I kept my fingers on her neck, hoping she’d realize that my thumb pressing down on her was of love, and my finger, one of challenge.

After we both said what we needed to say in our own languages, I retreated my hand, and we both sat there.

Silence.

Trying a rather lame attempt to make a conclusionary statement in Arabic, I silently muddled, “Ruui, Habibti, just Ruui.” (Relax, Dear, just relax). Because I always pronounce the “Ruui” so wrong, she didn’t smirk until she first rolled her eyes at me. I knew I had her now. So, I repeated, even a bit more silently, more dramatically, “Ruuui, just Ruuui.” I saw teeth in her smile this time. I pinched her neck again. She put her head on my shoulder for a tiny moment and looked up at me an smiled.

We both continued to sit there, watching the other kids drive the bumper cars. She gently kicked my foot...

... And I knew exactly what it meant.