Dust Settles.

Things can change quick. Day to night. Health to sickness. Hot to Cold. Wet to Dry. Plans change. Peace changes to lack of it. Discontent changes to anger. And anger to violence.

This morning I find myself sitting in the yard with a change of plans. Yesterday began like any other Monday. Wake up. Set the table. Cut the bread. Prepare the eggs. Eat. Lesson Plan. Get dressed. Bike to school. Saluer my colleagues. Print exercises. **yelling and shouting in the street** **students running in a cloud of dust** **get inside** **shut the doors and lock the windows** **rocks, fists, and rage hit the building** Dust settles. Close the school. Leave the bikes. Rides with friends on motos. Get home.

What began as a typical, busy, school week is now a week with three days off. All schools in Moundou have been shut down until Thursday because of the student riots that happened yesterday.

In the French school system all students must pass the baccalaureate exam...or more simply, the bac...before the end of their schooling. Without it...you can’t do anything. Yesterday at “Lycee Abdou Douala,” the biggest high school in Moundou, the list of students to take the bac this year was posted. Many students did not find their name.

It’s hard to get a straight story. Everyone has their own version of the events...and why a list of names can turn into a violent “manifestation.” But somehow it’s a combination of corruption and politics and miscommunication. Students who had already paid the fee were being told to pay again...an exorbitant amount...that they don’t have...and so the riots began.

I heard stories of students jumping out of windows, jumping over walls, fleeing from the sudden outbreak of violence. I witnessed a friend and co-worker instinctively and worriedly shut and lock doors and windows, and I read the concern on a University student’s face as she hid inside the office with Rose and I. I’m told that this year the “manifestation” is not too bad...that the last time this happened, people died.

Here I find myself in the company of people who have lived through war....people who have an instinctive reaction to violence. Time after time the subject of war comes up in English class. “Write a dialogue” ends with “where will you go when the war starts?” “I will go to Cameroon.” And “write about a childhood memory” recounts the time that a student hid in the bush with his family for a year because it was not safe to be in town. And yet life goes on. Today really feels no different than yesterday or the day before. Life happens and continues to happen. The dust settles.

But the dust can rise again. And one person’s anger can set it off. Mob mentality can prevail. And anger can change to violence. And the inequality and inaccessibility of resources...or in this case, opportunity...will teach children that one only gets what one can take. And so people will continue to take. And we will take until we are taken from. And violence will break out again.

OR--

“Do not resist an evil person. If someone strikes you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also. And if someone wants to sue you and take your tunic, let him have your cloak as well.” We can seek peace in the face of violence...give when we are taken from.

“Do not store up for yourself treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” We can put a check on our amassing of resources and greed...our contribution to unequal opportunity...even if sometimes the repercussions happen halfway around the world.

And we can pray for peace.

Things can change quick. Night to Day. Sickness to Health. Cold to Hot. Dry to Wet. Plans change. Dust settles. Discontent changes to thankfulness. And anger to joy.