Sprigger T the Phone Thief

Months ago, I had my typical cohort of children playing games and coloring on my living room floor. Since I moved into my own place, my afternoons have been blessed with the smiles and laughter of my neighborhood children. On this particular day, Dexroy Springer, one of my grade 5 students, was walking home from the playing field, saw children at my house and asked if he could join in. I have a strict policy of “Everyone’s Welcomed” so I invited him in. He made a place for himself on the floor and joined the exciting round of Candyland. All of us that grew up playing this game can surely remember just how exciting it can be. I left the living room for a total of two minutes to do something in another room and all of the sudden, my neighbors, Sariyah and Jeziah, are rushing towards me with “Miss! Miss! Miss! Sprigger T thiefed your phone!” Well hot damn, I have known to be aware of thieves in St. Vincent but I didn’t expect it to be in broad daylight by one of my students. I rushed out of the house to shout him but he had taken off down the road at lightning speed with my phone in tow.

At this point, I am beginning to feel a bit panicky. I use my phone a lot down here—not only to chat but also as a number keeper and way to coordinate errands, rides, etc. Also, you can probably already guess this but the Peace Corps salary doesn’t leave much wiggle room for a candy bar ($3 EC) at the end of the month, let alone a new phone ($200 EC). To top it off, I have a phone that you use and then pay for at the end of the month. Most people here have phones that you buy credit on, “top up,” so if you don’t have money then you don’t have a way to call out (novel idea!). My phone can actually top up other’s phones and it is added to my bill. Again, the more I thought about it, the more fear grew in my heart, not only had he taken my phone but he was walking around with endless credit for anyone who was smart enough to figure it out. The phone had been providing the illusion of control in a world and experience where everything seems so beyond my control and here it was, stolen right out of my house by a nine year old that weights no more than fifty pounds that I welcomed through the front door. I would have bet a thousand dollars to say that the first person to rob me would have been a scary man, at least six feet tall and weighing in at two hundred and fifty pounds. Funny how life can take your expectations and turn them on their heads.

In typical Vincy fashion, I headed out to the street, kids following at my heels and anxiously told my neighbors that my phone had just been thiefed by Dexroy. “Sprigger T?” said my neighbor Elvia, “I think he lives in Pashar Hill (a neighborhood in Layou). Let’s go look! We will find him.” So we set off through Layou, asking everyone if they had seen him pass and if they knew where he lived. Layou is not a big town so every person we met brought us closer to our target. Finally, three dark alleys, two barking dogs and one wrong turn later we arrived at Dexroy Springer’s house, a small 2 room clapboard home dangerously balanced on cinder blocks, a small light at the end of a dark walkway. Elvia called out and a woman came towards us to hear the explanation of how this Layou outsider had just had her phone stolen by Dexroy. His grandmother quietly explained that he had just arrived home a few minutes earlier but she had not seen a phone. In my head, I am screaming at the top of my lungs, just another twist in this Peace Corps path that I am already struggling along. Suddenly, I see a small light coming from around the corner and Elvia notices it too. It is Dexroy, huddled in the corner of the yard, desperate to finish the last game he may ever play of Digicel football (soccer on the phone). His grandmother calls him, he rushes into the house and hides in fear, she heads in after him. As mad as I am, I still don’t want him to be physically punished so I anxiously cross my fingers, hoping for a peaceful reunion with my Digicel gold. After about two minutes, his grandmother returns to the path with phone in hand. She places it in my palm and without another word, turns back to the house. Elvia and I head back up the hill to our block. As we are walking, I look at her and say “Thank you and could you please explain why you call Dexroy Sprigger T?” She looks at me, curiously, “You know, spaghetti, like the noodles? We call him Spaghetti because he is skinny like a noodle.” I laugh out loud, partly with relief and partly in gratefulness to whatever God is watching over this and smiling. Originally, I would have ended the story here with some anecdote about how it is great to live in a small community where everyone is willing to join together to help you get through the struggles but that would be selling the whole situation short. Gyal, it turns out that the word spaghetti was not the only thing at risk of getting lost in translation.

Just last week, Dexroy’s grandmother shows up during lunch at the school, ready to rip him a new one because he has gone and spent his $1EC lunch money on cookies during break time (DUH!! Who wouldn’t choose delicious crème filled sandwiches over rice and chicken) and has been telling her that the school is refusing to give him food.. The ever gracious teacher, who runs the feeding program, gently explains to her that this is all part of the process of growing up, deciding how and where to spend money. Dexroy’s grandmother accepts her defeat. A few minutes later, I run into her again at a shop across the street as she is sharing the stresses of parenting a 10 year old child who is trying to figure out who he is and how he fits into the world. As soon as she sees me, she launches into the story of the day my phone made its way to Pashar Hill and how ashamed she feels, “Here, this white woman is here to teach and help and Dexroy thiefs her phone. I don’t know how to turn him against all of this evil.” Her head hangs low and her shoulders slouch forward. I’ve been working on getting bolder so I look her in the eyes and say, “You know what, for Dexroy and me, taking my phone was the very best thing that ever could have happened. Sure, it was hard to deal with the fact that he had violated my trust in him but he made it up. He came back to class, offered a sincere apology and has been the most improved student since. Honestly, I am able to teach him better now that we have lived through this together. In fact, I really love having Sprigger T as one of my students.” She looked at me curiously as if she couldn’t believe that someone had been able to get over being thiefed by someone they had welcomed into their home. I smiled, put my shoulders back and said, “Lawd, if people hadn’t forgiven me for all the chaos I have brought into the world, I wouldn’t be able to be standing right in front of you. We all deserve another chance.” I grabbed my soda off the counter and headed back to the school, knowing that the job ahead of me as a teacher is much more than the ABCs. The work of every person who participates in the life of a child can only begin to be explained as a continuous act of love, forgiveness and faith that everyone is capable of being the best noodle they can be.

the man. the myth. the noodle.