Haven't You Always Wanted a Monkey?

Sadly, this entry has absolutely nothing to do with its title. But wouldn't it be fun if I moved to Africa and really did have regular contact with monkeys? I'll have to settle for my 2 year old host sister instead, I guess. She is probably much cuter and smarter than any potential monkey, anyway. And probably throws her own poop around at least a little less.

One of the reasons I love spending time with Azora so much is because language is tends to be a non-issue. The two of us speak roughly the same amount of siSwati, but we seem to understand eachother perfectly anyway. She usually wants to play, sleep, have a drink, or avoid a bath, so we relate well. We also have our language lessons togehter: here is my head, my nose, my eyes, my hands, etc... (I have also taught her to say nose, mouth, spaghetti, and obnoxious in english. Each time she points to her nose when I ask where it is, I am convinced that I live with the most brilliant child in the world).

There are also certain key phrases that she has recently picked up due to having reached the potty-training stage of her career, and these I've had to learn with a certain amount of rapid necessity. So when she informs me that "ngifuna kaka!" I know that its time to get her off my bed and into the pit toilet. (There's also a certain sense of bizarre comfort to know that some words don't change no matter what culture or language you're in. Kaka means exactly what you think it does.) The trip to the pit toilet is accompanied by much commentary from both her ("unuka!") and me ("yeah, it does smell. Don't look down, friend, pit toilet rule 1! Azora, I love you but I am not fishing you out if you fall in." etc...) and finished up with her ordering me to 'sula!'

Any hint that I might have been succumbing to maternal instincts tends to end right there. No matter how much I may adore this child, I firmly believe that in the end we just all need to learn to wipe our own rear-ends.




(I really was planning to write something at least a little insightful up there, but sometimes you just have to give into the bizarre instead. Next time.)