I'm ready to leave. I sit on the floor struggling with the buckle on my sandal. I say my good byes to the children. I love you Lion.
"Damoo momma".
What sweetie?
"Damoo momma".
He clearly is waiting for a response but I have no idea what he is saying. I love you too buddy.
"No! Damoo momma."
He is frustrated I cannot understand what he believes he has so clearly stated. He tries so hard, but still, after a year, I cannot make out most words.
Boys talk later than girls. He's still so young. It will come. I know that. I have been assured by a therapist that there is no delay. I know it will come but there are times it is not fast enough for either of us.
"Damoo momma!!" his frustration growing.
English is his third language. I imagine at times he is speaking Kembatinga or Amharic, languages that live in his memory, in his soul.
The first words he heard were uttered softly in Kembatinga. I love you, my son, a voice so familiar he thinks it could be his own. He heard children singing and telling stories as children often do. Stories of his people, the Kembata, were music to his ears.
He heard a quiet man choked with grief say I am sorry, she is gone. The man struggled to explain the unexplainable. I love you. I will miss you. Remember that.
"Damoo momma."
He heard women's voices trying to soothe his fears and quiet his cries. It will be all right. Voices trying to explain the unexplainable. I am sorry. He is gone but he will always be with you. These voices gave good news too. You have a family. They are coming for you. You are loved. He heard children's voices singing and telling stories as children often do. He heard stories of hope.
"Damoo momma."
Another city, another language. This time women's voices spoke in an unfamiliar tounge, Amharic. Welcome. We will care for you. It will be alright. A special voice sang to him. It was her voice he sought out when he was scared. Ishi ishi. It will be alright. Your family is coming. You are loved. He heard children singing and telling stories as children often do. He heard stories of family.
"Damoo momma."
Strangers came. They spoke a strange, unfamiliar language. Words of comfort offered none. They spoke of love, of home, of family. It will be alright. We are together now. He came home, to his new home, filled with these unfamiliar voices and unfamiliar language. He heard children singing and telling stories as children often do. He heard stories of home.
"Damoo momma!!"
Slowly these voices grew familiar. He understood. He knew about hope, about family, about home. He yearned to add his voice to the chorus.
"DAMOO MOMMA!"
I struggled. I turned to my husband for help. He is saying he loves you to the moon. Oh, of course, how could I not know that.
To the moon buddy?
He curled into me, finger in mouth, hand stroking my ear. "Damoo momma".
I love you to the moon buddy.
"Abahome"
And back home.
Knowing he had been heard, he untangled himself and ran to the living room. There he joined his sister, singing and telling stories as children often do. They told stories of love.
Showing posts with label language. Show all posts
Showing posts with label language. Show all posts
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Monday, September 8, 2008
Ni hao li shu
Shen Lao Shi said "Ni hao."*
Li shu said "Ni hao lao shi."*
Does she remember? Do the tones evoke memories of the nannies, of her foster family, of her first mother?
Was she too young to remember? Or has she become too American over the past two years that she cannot remember China?
These were the questions running through my mind as we walked into the Cricket Academy. Bunny was there to start Mandarin classes along with nine other two year olds.
Seven of the nine, plus nine more from another class, were girls just like her who were born in China and had come to live with their forever families 7,000 miles away in Milwaukee, Wisconsin.
These girls are all so different. Some are shy, some are outgoing. Some are short, some are tall. They are from different regions all across China.
But they are also the same. They share a common bond. They will all know what it is like to grow up half way around the world from where you were born. They will all know what it is like to not look like your parents. They will all know what it is like to live in a culture so different from that of your birth. They will all have questions. They will all face obstacles and difficulties.
But they will be sisters. Their shared experiences will bond them. They can turn to eachother. And that in some small way will help them through.
Bunny is lucky. One of her new sisters is from her same orphanage. They share the same early history. They were cared for by the same caregivers. They had the same experiences. They are sisters.
This is one of the greatest gifts that I can give my daughter. To let her know her sisters. To learn the language and the culture of her birth country. To let her know that she is part of our family but also is a family with her sisters. She is not alone.
*Teacher Shen said "Hello".
Bunny said "Hello teacher."
Li shu said "Ni hao lao shi."*
Does she remember? Do the tones evoke memories of the nannies, of her foster family, of her first mother?
Was she too young to remember? Or has she become too American over the past two years that she cannot remember China?
These were the questions running through my mind as we walked into the Cricket Academy. Bunny was there to start Mandarin classes along with nine other two year olds.
Seven of the nine, plus nine more from another class, were girls just like her who were born in China and had come to live with their forever families 7,000 miles away in Milwaukee, Wisconsin.
These girls are all so different. Some are shy, some are outgoing. Some are short, some are tall. They are from different regions all across China.
But they are also the same. They share a common bond. They will all know what it is like to grow up half way around the world from where you were born. They will all know what it is like to not look like your parents. They will all know what it is like to live in a culture so different from that of your birth. They will all have questions. They will all face obstacles and difficulties.
But they will be sisters. Their shared experiences will bond them. They can turn to eachother. And that in some small way will help them through.
Bunny is lucky. One of her new sisters is from her same orphanage. They share the same early history. They were cared for by the same caregivers. They had the same experiences. They are sisters.
This is one of the greatest gifts that I can give my daughter. To let her know her sisters. To learn the language and the culture of her birth country. To let her know that she is part of our family but also is a family with her sisters. She is not alone.
*Teacher Shen said "Hello".
Bunny said "Hello teacher."
Friday, May 30, 2008
On Language
When your child speaks their first word, you are overjoyed. Hearing her say Mama is music to your ears. You can't wait to hear what they will say next.
But then after the age of two, your child won't shut up. Then its not so cute. She will repeat everything and I mean everything you say (hence the spelling from my earlier post) so you have to be careful.
When we first adopted Bunny we assumed she would be a late talker because she had heard nothing but Cantonese for the first nine months of her life. But she started talking right on schedule so no problem. And then she kept right on talking and talking and talking.
Bunny is definitely a very verbal child. She loves words and the sounds they make. She will make up words because they sound funny. She also loves to say what the big people are saying even if the words are difficult. She now knows she lives in Waukee Milsconsin. When I tried on a new pair of sunglasses and pronounced them rockstar sunglasses, she put hers on and repeated rockstar sunglasses for a good 15 minutes.
The problem with a child like this is there are times (especially while driving) that you really need to swear. Now you don't want your child thinking its acceptable to drop the F-bomb even if you were cut off by the lady driving the blue minivan.
So what do you do? You make up words just like your child does. Bubs has taken to saying "Son of a Bee Sting" and phrases like that. It works for him but not for me. So my new word of choice in those situations is Focaccia. Say it out loud "Focaccia!" You can put the emphasis on it just like you would with the F-bomb and its just as satisfying. If your child picks it up, it is an innocent word. However, they may be confused if someone actually offers them focaccia bread when they've only heard it muttered under your breath or yelled at a passing motorist. So use it with care.
But then after the age of two, your child won't shut up. Then its not so cute. She will repeat everything and I mean everything you say (hence the spelling from my earlier post) so you have to be careful.
When we first adopted Bunny we assumed she would be a late talker because she had heard nothing but Cantonese for the first nine months of her life. But she started talking right on schedule so no problem. And then she kept right on talking and talking and talking.
Bunny is definitely a very verbal child. She loves words and the sounds they make. She will make up words because they sound funny. She also loves to say what the big people are saying even if the words are difficult. She now knows she lives in Waukee Milsconsin. When I tried on a new pair of sunglasses and pronounced them rockstar sunglasses, she put hers on and repeated rockstar sunglasses for a good 15 minutes.
The problem with a child like this is there are times (especially while driving) that you really need to swear. Now you don't want your child thinking its acceptable to drop the F-bomb even if you were cut off by the lady driving the blue minivan.
So what do you do? You make up words just like your child does. Bubs has taken to saying "Son of a Bee Sting" and phrases like that. It works for him but not for me. So my new word of choice in those situations is Focaccia. Say it out loud "Focaccia!" You can put the emphasis on it just like you would with the F-bomb and its just as satisfying. If your child picks it up, it is an innocent word. However, they may be confused if someone actually offers them focaccia bread when they've only heard it muttered under your breath or yelled at a passing motorist. So use it with care.
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