10-5-09

Before the tsunami, I had a long list of things I planned to write about. I didn’t get around to most of them, or only got partway through. Some that I deemed worthy of mention before feel irrelevant in light of the event’s of the past week. But, since we were instructed not to actually teach this week and we’re going to have half days every day, and my class (which is made up of three students today) is next door in the 3rd Grade classroom watching a live-action Dragonball Z movie after my Planet Earth DVDs got outvoted, I’ll get started.

September 1, 2009

Ruta, Dog Warrior

Yesterday I was witness to one of the more astounding things that I’ve seen since I got here. Steve and I were at school working in our rooms at dusk. I heard several dogs barking outside by the basketball court, which was nothing out of the ordinary. A group of five or six dogs from the house next to the school regular patrol campus looking for handouts from students or the cafeteria workers. This time was different though. The barking soon mixed with a high-pitched, pained squeal. I got up from my desk and walked out toward the sound.

The first thing I noticed was five dogs up against a fence in the open area of campus between the school buildings. I quickly realized that the squealing was coming from one dog that was being attacked by all the others. As I jogged over, not really sure what I would do when I got there, I saw Ruta, one of our students from the house next door, running up, picking up rocks as she came. She got there before I did and immediately went to work on the attackers. Keep in mind that this is girl can’t be taller than four feet and was probably the sweetest kid in fifth grade when I was teaching them social studies.

The biggest of the dogs was the main attacker. He has a tan and white coat with shiny black eyes set into a broad, scarred face that reminds me of a tyrannosaurus. He was latched onto the squealing dog’s throat. The other dogs leapt around barking and nipping. I hit the big dog in the ribs with a fist-sized rock and it backed up for a moment, but when it went back on the attack, I was at a loss for what to do. Ruta ran in, throwing rocks at the dogs on the sides, and then charged the big dog. She hit it with a rock and started kicking its neck and head with her foot, wearing nothing but sandals. The dogs never turned on her, I suppose because they all lived around her house and knew her.

Afterwards I realized that at this point I just leaned against the fence and watched. It was clear that she, a ten year old girl, had the situation fully under control and did not need assistance from me, a grown man. I could do nothing but gawk at her fearlessly trying to save one of her dogs. Eventually the attackers backed up and the battered victim ran and hid. Ruta looked up at me and Steve, who had come outside part way into the fight, and smiled. “Sorry teacher,” she said as she trotted back to her house. Steve and I turned to each other and broke out in amazed laughter. The kids here might not be up to academic standards, but they can sure as hell fight dogs.