Stitch comes to Church (01/11/10)

As you may have figured by my having to post all my blogs at once, the internet is not very good where we are. The high school has wireless, but there is no method as to when it’s working. I would guess it works about 3 minutes of every hour- which has made communication a bit difficult so far.

There are plenty of dogs here, and while most seem harmless, others bark and growl in warning to protect their property. I was pleased to find upon arrival that we have our own WorldTeach dog named Stitch. And by our own dog, I mean WorldTeach volunteers usually take care of him, so he obliges himself to follow us everywhere serving as protection. He follows Morgan into both class and church! I’d never had a dog that wasn’t the traditional “pet”, and now I’m starting to see their true use. By the end of the first day, as Stitch was walking us home from a neighbor’s in the dark, I felt compelled to pet him though his fleas, ticks, and sores swayed me otherwise. It’s hard not to feel bad for him, as he walks us everywhere on a wounded (probably broken) leg from a dog fight. I felt compelled to ask my mom to send some dog treats for him.

Last night was my first Sunday here, and both Marci and Morgan have joined local churches to play a role in the community. The three of us went together to a catholic mass, performed by a constantly smiling and jovial Indonesian missionary. I don’t think I can describe his perkiness in words. Stitch followed us in, unwelcomed, and sat by our sides.

After the mass, everyone gathered for a pot luck dinner. Chatting with local women, I saw the plates were being prepared and delivered to each individual. I saw the heaps of food on each plate and my mouth dropped. A second later I realized that each person was getting TWO of these mountainous plates. Anxiety crept over me as I stared at the amount of food staring at me. One plate contained piles of rice, coconut rice, pineapple (with mayo?), green beans (with mayo?), breadfruit, ramen, pasta, and desert. The second plate (dibbed the “meat plate”) held pork, turkey, chicken, a fish, sashimi, ribs, and octopus.

As I finished eating everything I knew I liked (not much), and was pondering where to start next, Stitch popped over, clenched my meat plate in his jaw, and made a run for it. My shock and anger was quickly overcome with hidden glee, as I would not have to make an excuse for not eating the rest of my food (there is no way I could bring myself to eat octopus).

As the scene lost attention, I was quickly brought a SECOND meat plate, to replace my stolen one. I started in on the chicken and realized Stitch was under me eating a bone that he suddenly mistook my sandal for. I felt his gnawing and moved in reaction. Stitch jumped away, bumping the bench that was serving as a table, and my meat plate yet again went flying to the joy of Stitch. The first time was partly funny, the second time I was entirely embarrassed. I was the new person in town, and I’d let my dog get my plate not once, but twice. My affection towards Stitch quickly diminished for the day.