There’s no doubt that malaria is an unpleasant experience, but by Wednesday my illness had taken a toll on my spirits. I confided in Mama Thea, the Cross Cultural Solutions country director who diligently checked on me and ensured I had all I needed, that I was quite sad – mostly missing my kids. I thought, they don’t know why I’m not at school, they will think I abandoned them. As I teared up she told me that it wasn’t uncommon for kids to sometimes visit if their teacher is ill, she said she would see what she could do.
Thursday morning I managed to keep down breakfast – two pieces of toast and an egg – but felt quite tired and returned to bed. A few hours later, around 10:00, there was a knock at my door and Didase (CCS staff) said “hurry now, they are here!” Half asleep I wandered out to the front yard in hot pink pajama pants and a giant baggy tee shirt wondering who he was talking about.
To my total surprise and delight, all of my kids were sitting in the front yard at CCS singing to me. Of course in my weakened state I started to cry, my kids are absolutely the sweetest things. The teacher I assist explained to them in Swahili that I had been sick with malaria, and that class today would be time to visit me and cheer me up. My kids responded “Pole Sana Mwalimu” which means “very sorry teacher” when they heard I had malaria. I can only imagine how many of my kids have also had it, strangely I felt this connection to them, unspoken, but how they must be able to relate to my feelings.
Adrenaline kicked in for a while and I played a few games with them: paka paka simba (which means cat cat lion – it’s their version of duck duck goose haha!). Also we sang a few songs – Jinereza, jinereza which is the “introduce yourself song” and Bingay bayo which is a dance song. For jinereza, this is what you say:
Jinereza, jinereza, jinereza jinereza mama (everyone)
Mimi apa ni Dana
Mimi mama angu ni Quenta
Mimi baba angu ni Larry
Jiyeresha sasa
So this is what I say – my name is Dana, my mom is Quenta, my father is Larry, this is how I introduce myself. Then everyone sings the chorus and the next person introduces themself and so on.
The second song is absolutely hilarious when the kids do it – it’s a dance song. I’ll post a video when I’m back in the US because it is priceless. They say “Bingay bayo bingay bayo tu namtaka na Dana tu muonay, ni boyaka… bingedee bingedee baca ching! Basically they fill in the name and when your name is called you go to the center of the circle and when they get to the end bingedee bingedee baca ching you basically break it down – do a little dance and baca ching means you pop to the ground then back up. Of course to see my little 4 and 5 year olds do this is hysterical – they can move their little hips and they’re totally uninhibited!
As their visit wore on I became more tired. As a treat for them, in Tanzania when you have a visitor it is custom that you offer them a drink. So my kids got a soda each! They were totally excited about this – a lot of them had orange Fantas and proceeded to stick out their orange tongues at each other. In this way (and so many others) they are just like American kids.
Their visit lifted my spirits – and my teacher was kind to take some photos of us playing. I look sick of course, but hopefully my happiness translates through the pictures. My kids are the light in my life here, they keep me centered and I know why I’m here, what I’m learning to hopefully improve the hopes for their futures. Mama C, my program coordinator came out and asked them what they want to be – mwalimu (teacher), doctor, policia, and they shout “mimi apa!” when they hear what they want to be. My thoughts, my prayers, my energy will continue throughout my life to make their dreams a reality.
Strangely enough, this day where I was stricken with malaria and feeling so low, suddenly became a day I will not only remember as one of my best days in Tanzania, but one of the truly happiest moments in my life – to see my kids singing to me and running to hug me and make me feel better. They are beautiful, unselfish, absolutely incredible little tiny people who I love dearly.
Thursday morning I managed to keep down breakfast – two pieces of toast and an egg – but felt quite tired and returned to bed. A few hours later, around 10:00, there was a knock at my door and Didase (CCS staff) said “hurry now, they are here!” Half asleep I wandered out to the front yard in hot pink pajama pants and a giant baggy tee shirt wondering who he was talking about.
To my total surprise and delight, all of my kids were sitting in the front yard at CCS singing to me. Of course in my weakened state I started to cry, my kids are absolutely the sweetest things. The teacher I assist explained to them in Swahili that I had been sick with malaria, and that class today would be time to visit me and cheer me up. My kids responded “Pole Sana Mwalimu” which means “very sorry teacher” when they heard I had malaria. I can only imagine how many of my kids have also had it, strangely I felt this connection to them, unspoken, but how they must be able to relate to my feelings.
Adrenaline kicked in for a while and I played a few games with them: paka paka simba (which means cat cat lion – it’s their version of duck duck goose haha!). Also we sang a few songs – Jinereza, jinereza which is the “introduce yourself song” and Bingay bayo which is a dance song. For jinereza, this is what you say:
Jinereza, jinereza, jinereza jinereza mama (everyone)
Mimi apa ni Dana
Mimi mama angu ni Quenta
Mimi baba angu ni Larry
Jiyeresha sasa
So this is what I say – my name is Dana, my mom is Quenta, my father is Larry, this is how I introduce myself. Then everyone sings the chorus and the next person introduces themself and so on.
The second song is absolutely hilarious when the kids do it – it’s a dance song. I’ll post a video when I’m back in the US because it is priceless. They say “Bingay bayo bingay bayo tu namtaka na Dana tu muonay, ni boyaka… bingedee bingedee baca ching! Basically they fill in the name and when your name is called you go to the center of the circle and when they get to the end bingedee bingedee baca ching you basically break it down – do a little dance and baca ching means you pop to the ground then back up. Of course to see my little 4 and 5 year olds do this is hysterical – they can move their little hips and they’re totally uninhibited!
As their visit wore on I became more tired. As a treat for them, in Tanzania when you have a visitor it is custom that you offer them a drink. So my kids got a soda each! They were totally excited about this – a lot of them had orange Fantas and proceeded to stick out their orange tongues at each other. In this way (and so many others) they are just like American kids.
Their visit lifted my spirits – and my teacher was kind to take some photos of us playing. I look sick of course, but hopefully my happiness translates through the pictures. My kids are the light in my life here, they keep me centered and I know why I’m here, what I’m learning to hopefully improve the hopes for their futures. Mama C, my program coordinator came out and asked them what they want to be – mwalimu (teacher), doctor, policia, and they shout “mimi apa!” when they hear what they want to be. My thoughts, my prayers, my energy will continue throughout my life to make their dreams a reality.
Strangely enough, this day where I was stricken with malaria and feeling so low, suddenly became a day I will not only remember as one of my best days in Tanzania, but one of the truly happiest moments in my life – to see my kids singing to me and running to hug me and make me feel better. They are beautiful, unselfish, absolutely incredible little tiny people who I love dearly.
This is a beautiful post, Dada Dana. I'm so glad you got a bright moment in your malaria recovery. You are doing great things and I can't tell you how jealous I am that you get to keep influencing these kids' lives for many more weeks! Also THANKS for posting the lyrics to those two songs! I've been trying to remember them since I got home - I want to teach them to my day campers this summer. Miss you!
ReplyDeleteSuch a wonderful experience for such a wonderful person! I must admit to being a bit jealous, but I comfort myself knowing that you will teach me these songs, which I will then pass on. So hundreds of kids (you will never meet personally) will also learn from your experiences.
ReplyDeleteAin't this a cool world?