Thursday, April 29, 2004
This week's visit was chaotic and yes, fun. Khadija was gone - eventually we learned that she was at the hospital with the baby. Couldn't quite figure out if the baby was actually sick, although the neighbor Safia was incredibly amused by my attempts to explain "really sick" and a "little bit sick" which involved varying degrees of sneezing and writhing around the floor in mock pain.
Names. I feel so bad that I keep asking the neighbor and her kids what their names are every week. The neighbor is Safia. Safia, Safia, Safia. Her oldest daughter, who looks about 7, is just beautiful and smiles all the time. I don't know why she doesn't go to school. Her name is Isha (don't know how to spell it though). The neighbor has two other kids whose names I forgot within seconds after hearing them, a little girl and an older boy who we just met for the first time this week. Apparently earlier he was in the hospital with malaria. Yeah, malaria.
Bollywood. When we got to the apartment the kids were just chillin', watching a Bollywood movie from the '80's. We have got to get these children some English videos or they will grow up speaking Hindi.
Light on, light off. Repeat ad nauseum. I tried to teach Noor the concept of on/off today. The topic came up when I picked him up and he became tall enough to pull on the light cord. I got all excited and took him to the bathroom, where we tried to relate on/off to the water faucet (which was running when we came in, although we don't know why.) I think the main thing he got out of it was "water is fun". Every time I think about language I'm totally amazed that I managed to learn one. They teach this stuff to babies! And it actually works!
I like to eat, eat, eat apples and bananas... Grace brought some apples and bananas for the family, since World Relief has asked us to eat fruits and vegetables in front of the family so they understand that Americans don't attach a stigma to fruits and veggies. (Apparently among the Bantu in the refugee camps vegetables are poor people's food... so some families have stopped eating them here now that meat and starch is more available.) I feel like a bad public service announcement - fruit is cool, kids! - after eating almost a banana and a half. The kids ate little pieces when they were offered, possibly just to humor us. Truthfully, the banana wasn't that good and if I were them I too would be skeptical of my intense banana-related enthusiasm.
I gave Noor the last bit of the second banana; he very seriously used the can opener to squish it half (and didn't eat it, I might add). Kids are HILARIOUS.
Money. One of the kids came home with a note saying he needed $6.50 for a field trip; the oldest Ali needs $22 for a gym outfit. I don't know where they will get the money. I want to help them out but know we are not supposed to, and I'm always afraid that if we help them with one thing they won't understand when we can't help them with something else. This is the worst part about working with refugees. There is so much need, and I feel guilty in my relative wealth, yet helpless to do anything.
Names. I feel so bad that I keep asking the neighbor and her kids what their names are every week. The neighbor is Safia. Safia, Safia, Safia. Her oldest daughter, who looks about 7, is just beautiful and smiles all the time. I don't know why she doesn't go to school. Her name is Isha (don't know how to spell it though). The neighbor has two other kids whose names I forgot within seconds after hearing them, a little girl and an older boy who we just met for the first time this week. Apparently earlier he was in the hospital with malaria. Yeah, malaria.
Bollywood. When we got to the apartment the kids were just chillin', watching a Bollywood movie from the '80's. We have got to get these children some English videos or they will grow up speaking Hindi.
Light on, light off. Repeat ad nauseum. I tried to teach Noor the concept of on/off today. The topic came up when I picked him up and he became tall enough to pull on the light cord. I got all excited and took him to the bathroom, where we tried to relate on/off to the water faucet (which was running when we came in, although we don't know why.) I think the main thing he got out of it was "water is fun". Every time I think about language I'm totally amazed that I managed to learn one. They teach this stuff to babies! And it actually works!
I like to eat, eat, eat apples and bananas... Grace brought some apples and bananas for the family, since World Relief has asked us to eat fruits and vegetables in front of the family so they understand that Americans don't attach a stigma to fruits and veggies. (Apparently among the Bantu in the refugee camps vegetables are poor people's food... so some families have stopped eating them here now that meat and starch is more available.) I feel like a bad public service announcement - fruit is cool, kids! - after eating almost a banana and a half. The kids ate little pieces when they were offered, possibly just to humor us. Truthfully, the banana wasn't that good and if I were them I too would be skeptical of my intense banana-related enthusiasm.
I gave Noor the last bit of the second banana; he very seriously used the can opener to squish it half (and didn't eat it, I might add). Kids are HILARIOUS.
Money. One of the kids came home with a note saying he needed $6.50 for a field trip; the oldest Ali needs $22 for a gym outfit. I don't know where they will get the money. I want to help them out but know we are not supposed to, and I'm always afraid that if we help them with one thing they won't understand when we can't help them with something else. This is the worst part about working with refugees. There is so much need, and I feel guilty in my relative wealth, yet helpless to do anything.
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