Tuesday, August 31, 2010

This kid is beyond hilarious. I can't get over it.

First, he replaces his "r" and "l" sounds with "n". Our English classes have been interesting - we learned about fnogs, honses, nions and enephants, plus the various colors of gneen, yennow, ned, onange, bnue, and punpne. Oh, and I am generally referred to as Nesho.

I have also been teaching him some random slang, just for kicks. Now, every morning when I come in, I say, "Jamesi! Wassap?" To which he will reply, "Nathin!!!" Sometimes he welcomes me with cries of "Nathin! Nathin! Nathin!"

James' eating habits are also a bit different. He likes to dip whatever he's eating into whatever he's drinking. This works with tea and pancakes. It does not work with bananas and water.

Today he tried to get some rice for me from the pan on the stove. It didn't go well. I ended up turning a blind eye to the chickens that snuck in to peck at the rice spilled all over the floor.

Thursday, August 26, 2010

Me: "So, what do you eat?"

Faith: "Kenyans eat posho and beans and chicken and mutton and pork and - "

"What do other people eat?"

"The Karimojong eat porrige and greens. And cow."

"Yes, but what about the mzungus? What do they eat?"

After some thought: "Cookies!"

"Yeeesss....but what else?"

Another pondering moment.

"Chocolate cookies!"

I wish.

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

I'm learning Kiswahili, slowly by slowly. Wadio wadio. Pole pole.

Today we found out the one-legged chicken is named Trixie.

For Creative Art class, we were talking about different types of songs. For religious songs, we sang Cast Your Burdens and Father Abraham. For National Anthems, I sang the American national anthem. The kids told me it was "nice, but too long". I was surprised I even remembered it.

The scene was a strange one. Me, sitting in the plastic chair, screeching "Oh Say Can You See" over the blaring radio and squawks of Trixie, while my two charges watch in wonder at this weird mzungu.

Monday, August 16, 2010

I am now teaching/tutoring Faith, the daughter of some of our clinic staff. She is a fabulously hilarious child. Our conversations today were enlightening and entertaining. Her little brother, James, climbed all over me and exclaimed loudly in Kiswahili, which Faith had to translate for me. We had all sorts of interesting classes and extracurricular activities, which included


- Science, during which we laughed at the chicken with one leg.

- English - we discussed the differences between wazungu and East Africans. (I say that because Faith is not, in fact, Ugandan, but is from Kenya.) James repeated every English word I said, no matter what it was - a promising student. Although, saying "Okay" about forty million times won't get him very far.

- Math, during which we danced to Wakka Wakka and Waving Flag. Both of the kids amazed me with their skills, James in particular.

- Christian Religious Education, which resulted into a fascinating talk about compassion.

We also had break. Faith informed me that we were to "eat a very delicious pancake."
We did. We also chased the various dogs away (and the chicken with one leg). We watched James wash his face for half an hour. We chatted in Kiswahili/English/Ngakarimojong with the slashers. We drank tea. And I think we all learned something. I shall return tomorrow.

Saturday, August 7, 2010

I was visiting an HIV support group up in the hills of Moni, a suburb of Mbale. We rode pikis up the steep slopes of Wanale to reach a small brick-and-iron-sheet house beneath a mango tree. A group of women came running out to greet us, smiling and waving.

We wazungu entered the front room of the house and were seated on the chairs they had gotten for us. The rest of the women sat on mats around the room, each talking in various local dialects - Sabiny, Luganda, and Lugisu. Thankfully, we had a translator.

Each woman told her personal story of how AIDS had affected her life. Some had been rejected by friends and family members, forced out to live on their own. Others had been thrown out of their villages. They each told a story of sorrow and loss, each with a huge smile on their face. At the end of each, they would tell of how God had provided for them, whether that be through a friend or a stranger, miraculous or ordinary. For some, He had provided the means to get medecine. For others, He had used a friend to encourage them and take them in when everyone else rejected them.

At the end of their sharing, they asked us to introduce ourselves. I told them that I was living in Karamoja, etc, but forgot to mention my name. They asked what it was and I, embarassed, told them. "Rachel" is generally too much of a mouthful for most non-English speakers. I've tried "Raquel", "Rache", and many others - there's just something about those sounds that is difficult to pronounce.

The ladies decided that I needed a Luganda name. They seemed to pick one at random - that is, until I realized that one of the women there was giving me her name. Nelima. It means "when the fields lie fallow" or "hoeing". When I told them that that's what my Ngakarimojong name means, they laughed and said it must be God's will for me to be named that.

This brings me up to a thrilling total of nine names, birth certificate names included. Six Ugandan, three English.
 

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