A day in the Outpost

Jod pierced her nose a couple of days ago. A colleague went out for coffee with her this morning. She noticed the stud (in her nose). She was shocked. In her own words:

“I had no idea you were that kind of person! What does your husband think of that?”

During lunch time, on a talk show about depression, a list of symptoms (e.g. abnormal sleeping and eating patterns) were given as causes of depression. By a non-specialist.

Jod then went to this government training seminar she is attending. A colleague presented the psychology teacher and the class with a question in the form of a case: a mentally disabled guy in her neighbourhood got married to a less severely mentally disabled woman. They have three children, all suffer from some form of mental disability. “Why does the State (she means the Principality) allow this? Sure disabled people have rights, but should the State not prevent them from procreating?” Some people agreed and there was calm debate on the matter. Jod was very close to laughing hysterically (her hysterical laugh typically signifies not being at ease or even fury) but focused on something else.

“Hasn’t anyone told them about Hitler?” I commented on our way back from the gym. “He was the man with the solutions.”

Another colleague saw the stud (in Jod’s nose): “What do you want that for? You are a teacher after all.”

A ray of hope. In my five years in the Outpost, tonight was the first time I saw an immigrant referred to by her name on a news report, not as Ausländer. The story was about the house she was a tenant in, which collapsed this morning. Spontaneously.

Behold: all things come to me. I am close to attaining Nirvana, now.

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