The next day Hannah and I hung until 3:30 when we got out 14 basket balls Charles had bought for the kids and attempted to teach some games to 240 kids who couldn’t speak English.

“Ok, everyone in lines.” Screams from crazed kids.

“is there an interpreter?” more squeals.

“Yes” says one lady.

“Can you please put everyone in a line?”

“Yes” we sat around content as the ‘interpreter’ kept looking at us smiling.

“Today is January?” I asked.

“Yes”

“Ok charade’s it is.” So we had to act out what we wanted. It was mostly a disaster. The kids seemed to have fun though and we had fun.

Tunnel ball turned into everyone run around screaming and grabbing balls and throwing them and screaming and throwing balls.

Up and over turned into everyone run around screaming and grabbing balls and throwing them and screaming and throwing balls.

In fact every game turned in into everyone run around screaming and grabbing balls and throwing them and screaming and throwing balls for that matter.

I made some friends and they taught me a game involving throwing shoes at you, stacking rocks, running around and lots and lots of screaming. One thing I learnt was those are good at throwing shoes. Good practice for marriage I guess. At first I was thinking, your only a little girl I can have some fun with this, and danced around taunting them from a distance of 5m.

CRACK! Smack! A shoe slams into my right eye. Girls squeal and scream and dance and clap. The next round I danced around from a distance from 10m. I bet even I could hardly throw a shoe that far and poked my tongue out at the girl with a shoe. She smiled smugly. I danced.

CRACK! Smack! A shoe sails serenely through the air and smacks into my left eye. My eyes were now getting real red and swollen. The girls laughed and danced some more. When it was my turn to throw the shoe I tried to smack the cheeky right eye hitting girl but she just twirled and danced around me laughing at my vain attempts to return the eye favour and stacked rocks.

I started thinking about the whole marriage thing to a Mukti girl and when you would be having a fight.

“I am sorry darling!” you would plead.

“That’s it. I am throwing the shoe at you!”

“It’s a high heel you will poke my eye out!” Desperation.

“with luck!!” and no matter how far away you are the shoe would come hurling along and poke your eye out.