Family Time

I love going over to Auntie Esther’s house.  Between Charity, Auntie Esther, Valentina, Lovelyn, Kwame, Ema, and Elvis, there is always someone to play with or talk to.  Lately, when dinner has been finished and we are relaxing outside, I have ended up in deep conversation with Ema, while Elvis commands the attention of everyone else with his antics.  Ema is seven and, like any seven-year-old with an imagination, can absolutely talk your ear off.  Lately our conversations have covered everything from Christmas to thunder to Spiderman to outer space to food to cartoons.  Last week, we started off talking about thunder, progressed through bodies cracking in half and God and Jerusalem and lightening in there somewhere, and ended up on Christmas presents that he would receive from us early before we leave on December 7^th.  I couldn’t even tell you how this progression occurred, because the conversations consist of 99% Ema and 1% Ally.  I nod along and ask “really?” and “what’s that?” at the appropriate times, but other than that, the floor belongs to him.  Erin and Hannah asked me how I can stand to listen to this seven-year-old chatter endlessly when we can’t even understand what he is saying half the time, but it hadn’t really struck me to be annoyed or bored when a little kid is explaining what an airbender is to you.  It’s clear that Ema has too many words to say-he can’t get them out fast enough, and I can see his brain working a mile a minute as he talks.  I’m excited for him that he has so much to share, and the other night I suggested something to him that seemed to get him thinking even more.  In the middle of a discussion of racecar games and wireless internet, I asked him how he thought of all of this stuff.  He shrugged, as you might expect, and said he didn’t know.  I told him how cool it was that he had such an imagination, and asked if he knew where the stories in books came from.  He had been reading a book called the Ugly Duckling to us all week, and I referenced that-“where do you think that story came from?”.  Again, he said he didn’t know, and I said “someone with an imagination just like yours thought it up and wrote it down.”  His eyes lit up in disbelief.  I said that someone, somewhere had an idea that came from a crazy imagination, wrote it down, and it became a book, or a TV show, or a movie.  I saw dawning realization in his eyes as he understood what I was getting at, and he bashfully grinned at the suggestion that one of his crazy stories was worth writing down.  “Writing something down makes it even easier to share with people,” I told him, and especially to him, that seemed to ring true, especially since I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t be sharing all of this if he didn’t have us as an audience each night.  “What if you wrote down what you tell me-could you write it in the notebook I saw that’s for school?”  He shook his head no sadly…”but I could write it in another notebook I have!”  Two seconds later we were off on another conversation involving how far the sun is from the moon and what an esophagus is, but I was glad we had gotten a chance to talk about him-he’s clearly very smart (he just got moved from class 2 to class 3 in school), has a lot to say, and needs to share it, so maybe writing some of these stories and thoughts down will be a way for him to do that, especially when his obruni audience goes back home.

Speaking of smart kids, Elvis, who is three, recites his ABC’s, says his two times tables up to 2x12, and traces capital and lowercase letters for homework every night in his little school notebook.  All this without watching Sesame Street everyday or having dozens of books that would helpfully reinforce colors and numbers and letters.  He has one alphabet book that he is fiercely protective of, and hilariously points to C with a cat as the picture and says “pussycat!” as all one word in his funny little voice.  His other trademark phrases, pronounced crystal clearly, include “where is your camera?” “put this in your bag” “let me do the zip” “did you eat all?” “I’ll miss you” “I love you too” “I’m giving you an injection!”*

*this last one comes with its own story-he found a syringe cap in an extra room in their house where mothers can stay (Auntie Esther is a midwife), and proceeded to run up to us and do his best to plunge it into our arms before we realized what it was.  Needless to say, the cap was confiscated quickly and he got into some trouble for that one.   

Having these kids around is great, and to have a family here is even more of a positive thing than I originally thought it would be.  Lovelyn and Charity smiled with pride when we told them that none of our international health classmates in other countries have a host family, so we are lucky to have them.  Lovelyn asked me if they tell us where to go abroad, and I said no, I had heard from last year’s girls about how great it was in Dodowa with her family, and asked in my placement interview to come here.  Charity told us how she has a “Georgetown University Mom” t-shirt from another year’s group, which couldn’t be more appropriate.