Mango Ubba

I think not being able to communicate much with the people around her has really started to bother Elsa. She seems to sense that she doesn't know the right words to say to be able to make her way around here. Considering how much she loves to talk, I can only imagine how much it irks her to not be able to understand all the other little kids.She's not laying down and playing dead though. Elsa has just decided to combine any Daasanech words she's picked up and put them together, even if we can't quite figure out what it is she is trying to say. Her newest phrase is "Mango Ubba!". She's taken to yelling this at anyone and everyone who comes close, and essentially it just means 'and mango!' or 'also mango!'. I can't imagine what the people think of this little 3 foot high blonde girl yelling 'and mango!' at them. But she's trying. She's trying hard. And she doesn't care what people think of her or what mistakes she's making in the process--she's communicating. And so I'm taking a page from Elsa's books...attempting to take a stab at beginning to learn Daasanech, and to just yell out the words I think I may know. A few times a week the kids and I go back to a house in the village and sit with the main leader in our church (and however many other people may be packed into the house), and I try desperately to figure out, through a little English and a little Amharic and a lot of confusion and miming, what it is they are talking about. I don't know how successful it is, but it's been good for us to at least make a start. So here's to becoming child-like and not being afraid to try...here's to Mango Ubba!

See How The Ferenji Kids Play

Last week the main Daasanech health worker, Girma, was over to our place early one morning to head out with Donna to do a clinic downriver. It was about 7:15 am, the time of day my kids are running around outside, enjoying the cool of the morning, typically dressed in nothing more than that night's sagging diaper. Girma was watching Ezra as he pushed his Tonka truck up and down a sand incline, and Elsa as she ran in circles swinging her arms around. Caleb, who was starting work for the day, overheard Girma as he said to some other Daasanech health extension workers there, "See how the ferenji (foreign) kids play, Daasanech kids only think about their stomachs." How true Girma's words. My kids have the luxury of a childhood, something we think of as a right to a child, while this community of Daasanech parents send their children out at 4 and 5 to watch the goats, haul water, work in the garden, and mind the younger children. A child here has the responsibility of an adult. The thought of the gross discrepancy between the lives of my children and the children all around us has been on my mind over the last few weeks, because I've spent a lot of time lately trying to figure out which kids are closest in age to Elsa and Ezra. I can't figure it out. The ones that look about the same size have eyes beyond my kids' years, and tell a story of an experience far beyond my own 2 year old's life. I don't fault my kids for having a childhood. In fact, I love it, and I want them to have a childhood for as long as possible. And I don't necessarily feel sorry for these Daasanech kids either. I think they have a joy living here, in this community where they know their mothers and fathers and grandfathers and grandmothers, all their cousins and siblings and aunts and uncles, and all live together from birth to death in the same community. I would not impose myself to say that the way my own kids grow up is better than the way that they do.
The gardens are being planted as we speak. Sorghum is the main crop in this area, and because we did not have a full flood this year of the Omo River, the crop will be smaller than it should. We have had rain in the past week, though, unseasonal rain, and it should help their gardens start to take off. Pray for these gardens. Pray for the women as they work them, and the children, too. Pray that there will be a bountiful harvest, so that maybe Girma's words will ring a little less true this year...so the Daasanech children can cease to think about their stomachs, and play like only a child can...arms swinging and bellys full.