Last week, I got sucked into Teachers' Day at one of my schools - I popped in to visit one of my mentees, and she suddenly recalled that there were to be no lessons that day. Oops. Oh well, a day of games and makan-makan (eating) it was, then. Life is hard.
I was immediately dragged onto the quad to take part in Coconut Bowling, which is, as you may guess, bowling a coconut at ten plastic bottles - a marvellous and eco-friendly version which I am definitely taking back to Africa for future family gatherings. As soon as I walked out, children flooded the quad from all over the school, bearing cameras, and I was terrified of accidentally killing somebody with my poor aim! The problem, actually, honestly, is not my aim (honest) but the shape of the coconut - it's like a built-in probability-quantum-thingy. With all the little knobs and bumps on it, you can aim all you like, but it (almost) entirely depends on how the coconut falls, and at what angle. I didn't do too badly - got 5 bottles over three throws - which was apparently enough to put me among the top few teachers, so thank goodness. Once all the children had taken an acceptable amount of photos of the orang putih chucking a coconut about (and not, thankfully, committing any unintentional manslaughter), they disappeared back to their mysterious preparations, and my mentee demanded her own photo of me taking one final (and illegal) turn.
Once all the teachers had taken part and had their score recorded by one of the Year 6 pupils, we moved into the open-air hall (you can see it behind me in the photo above), where the kids demonstrated their amazing skills in planning, organising and executing a whole ceremony to honour their teachers.
Although they didn't do all the work... We were all called up to sing the national Malaysian Teachers' Song - I did my best, reading off my neighbour's song sheet, but fear I did worse than I would have had I known the tune. Or any of the words. Nonetheless... The kids all watched and clapped and took photos.
Then it was cake-cutting time; as is becoming usual in my life, I was asked to have the honour of making the first cut. I managed to persuade them to let me do it with the headmaster.
After cake-cutting, the students awarded certificates and presents to each teacher - awards like Smartest Teacher, or Most Easygoing Teacher, or even Cutest Teacher (she was...)
And then there was the gift-giving, when each teacher gave a present to another. Of course, I hadn't been warned, and had no gift to give, but the ever-generous teachers magically found one for me, leaving me embarrassingly short-handed - but next year I am determined to always carry around a store of little presents that I can pull out suddenly when the occasion demands it, earning myself title of Most Prepared Teacher (Orang Putih Division).
And then, finally, it was time for makan-makan, which is an essential part of any gathering/ceremony/awards-giving/celebration/party/first day of school/last day of school/day the orang putih attends our school/any old day... I love it, I have to admit, now that my teachers have gotten used to my vegetarianism. I always get mothered, with teachers asking me if I'm on a diet when my plate is only half full of rice - "Why not proper portion Emily? You don't like rice?" - invariably leading to a discussion on Africa's staple food, and expressions of sympathy that it's not rice. Makan-makan is not just eating, for Malaysians, it is a part of the culture, a part of their innate hospitality, their desire to take care of you. In that respect, there is a strong link between them and the people of Zimbabwe, making me feel more at home in this strange place!
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