On my first night at Alabanza, I remember being very confused. It seemed to me that everyone was speaking in a different language and my head began to hurt as I feared I would never be able to communicate with any of these people. In the few days that followed, I learned that there was only one other language being spoken that night (beside English and the sign language for Mary), and that it is called Afrikaans (“Ah-fri-kahns”). It is a mixture of several languages, and is the youngest language in the world. I think some of the components are German, Dutch, French, and some indigenous African languages. It sounds like German a lot of the time, and they make all kinds of funny noises that my mouth cannot quite figure out, but I’m trying. Several of the South Africans teach me phrases, and I love learning them! It’s been a blast, and they are excited that an American is taking interest in it.
But last Tuesday night while several of us were hanging out at Claude and Mary’s house (Mary received Betty Crocker mix in the mail from the States and made us all cookies!), Mariet taught me a few lines in Afrikaans I will never forget. I told her that Dawie (“Dah-vee”) asked me to say something nicer to him since he didn’t like my new phrase: Are you insane?! So she told me one phrase and I turned to him and recited it. Dawie raised his eyebrows and then smiled. He seemed pleased. Mariet promised to tell me what I had said later, and then gave me another phrase. I turned and sputtered through another phrase, but this reaction was a little different. Several heads turned our way, and Dawie seemed speechless (quite a feat if you know Dawie). He threw up his hands and replied “Yes!” And thus, I was engaged to a South African. That’s right—my new “friend” Mariet had me tell Dawie that he was very cute, and then I asked him to marry me. Of course, in a small community like this one, the joke could not end there, so now there is at least one comment every day about me and my fiancé. That’s what I get for trying to assimilate.
But last Tuesday night while several of us were hanging out at Claude and Mary’s house (Mary received Betty Crocker mix in the mail from the States and made us all cookies!), Mariet taught me a few lines in Afrikaans I will never forget. I told her that Dawie (“Dah-vee”) asked me to say something nicer to him since he didn’t like my new phrase: Are you insane?! So she told me one phrase and I turned to him and recited it. Dawie raised his eyebrows and then smiled. He seemed pleased. Mariet promised to tell me what I had said later, and then gave me another phrase. I turned and sputtered through another phrase, but this reaction was a little different. Several heads turned our way, and Dawie seemed speechless (quite a feat if you know Dawie). He threw up his hands and replied “Yes!” And thus, I was engaged to a South African. That’s right—my new “friend” Mariet had me tell Dawie that he was very cute, and then I asked him to marry me. Of course, in a small community like this one, the joke could not end there, so now there is at least one comment every day about me and my fiancé. That’s what I get for trying to assimilate.
Me and my "fiance," Dawie, at our Alabanza Roman Dinner Night
1 comment:
After Ashley was taught to say "beyinim yok" to anything she didn't understand, I'm surprised you were so quick to repeat what you'd been told. You haven't watched "My Big Fat Greek Wedding" lately, have you?
~Megan
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