The kids in my neighborhood all know my name now. And patches of kids on my regular route to and from work do too. The younger school kids, age 7 to 10 or so are the ones most likely to start conversations with me, but they are the ones I see less often because of my work schedule.
The other day I worked on a grant at home and then headed to work around 2, so the kids were walking home from school. I walked a bit with a young girl who was the ring leader of my gang from a few weeks back, the one who asked me with all seriousness, “how much money is enough?” She was also the one who told the younger kids not to call me “lekoga” so I like her. She had her brother and two cousins in tow and we walked along for about 15 minutes.
She seemed determined in that time to teach me as many Setswana words as she possibly could, averaging I think somewhere between 5 and 1000 words a minute. It was hard for me to tell and impossible for me to keep up, obviously. She would say a word, tell me what it meant and have me repeat it. Then she’d correct me and say it again. Then we would go on to the next word and I would promptly forget the proceeding one.
She told me the words for small and large rocks or hills, the word for grass, words for three or four different kinds of fencing (which all looked pretty much the same to me), words for various plants along the way. It reminded me of when I lived in Germany as a teenager and my German mother walked me through her immense garden, telling me the words of various plants and trees and asking me what the English words were. She would look at me oddly when I couldn’t name every plant in English. I didn’t think I looked like a botanist (whatever that would look like) and clearly she felt our US school system was useless. For years after that I would only know the German names of plants, but now I am back to not remembering them in English or German. This kid felt I should know the English words for all these different fence parts and types. I failed her too. We talked about the fire on Otse Hill the night before and she gave me the words for lightning and thunder. In one ear, out the other, I am afraid. Without writing things down, I haven’t a chance.
I am happy to say that any words she told me that I already knew I recognized and could properly repeat, showing that in just under 7 months I have managed to actually learn a few things, but not enough to impress anyone her age. The rest of what she taught me is a big fat blur.
We came to Erto’s house and I stopped to wave at him and his family. He now smiles at me, even from afar and does this little half wave, half beckoning motion with his cute little hand. I am sure he doesn’t know he is doing both – it is his cute signature wave- and it doesn’t really matter. He can wave and/or beckon to me all day long as far as I care. I was able to tell my tutor that “ke ditsala tsa me” which means, “these are my friends.” I think she was duly impressed. God, I hope we can raise the money needed for this sweet boy.
Speaking of money, as I continued along with my walking Berlitz of Botswana, my personal Rosetta Stone of Setswana, I was aware that these kids and the other ones who know me and see me every day don’t ask me for money anymore, though after this tutorial she should have demanded something for her effort. But if her pay was based on my rate of retention, she would go broke.
Next time I will pull out the pen and paper and be a better student. I would also then have proof of how hard I worked on my way to work, in case I am ever audited.
No comments:
Post a Comment