Column | Don’t squash that scream

Let children express their anger, says Phuphee, only then will they learn how to tame it

A few months after my little boy turned three, we went to stay with Phuphee for a few weeks. He loved playing in her garden and we would go on all sorts of adventures in the apple orchard that sprawled behind the house. It was a wonderful time, or so it seemed until he would have a tantrum.

It would start with something insignificant like him dropping a ball, and from there on it would snowball into hours of crying and screaming. What frustrated me most about the situation was that no matter what I tried, nothing would help or soothe him. Sometimes after hours of trying to distract him, I would begin to get frustrated with myself and end up scolding him. At times, it worked, and while I was grateful that it did, something about the way it ended didn’t feel right. But, I knew of no other way to console him and dealing with that failure on my part was probably harder than dealing with his emotions.

We had been at Phuphee’s for about a week and a half, when one morning a young woman with a child around the same age as my little one walked in. We were having breakfast. Phuphee had made malai tchot (malai roti), which my little boy loved. She asked the woman to sit down and join us, and then asked what she could do for her.

‘Yemis maeynyis bachas haz chu jinn tchaamut, shaayad ches nazar. Amyis deetav taeveez, ye gatchihaa theek [this little boy of mine has been possessed by a jinn, or maybe someone has given him the evil eye. Please give him a taveez so he can get better],’ she said.

Phuphee asked what exactly the matter was. The woman explained that he never listened, got angry about the smallest of things, and generally behaved like a rogue dictator. Phuphee smiled at her and asked her to come into the orchard, where I could see her talking to the woman and picking apples at the same time. After about half an hour or so, the mother and son duo left with a dozen red apples.

When Phuphee returned, I asked her what taveez (spiritual prescription) she had given them because I felt that I could probably do with one, too.

‘I told her to try making malai without boiling the milk,’ Phuphee replied.