The world needs more female cashiers. Is anyone willing to march with me on this? Sometimes I want – nay, need - to buy things that I do not want to hand to a young man. Especially when cashiers and guards may jokingly ask “So what are you getting me?” as they're ringing in and packing up your purchases.
I silently dared the bespectacled young man behind the counter to say something as I pulled packet after packet of feminine hygiene products out of my basket. Solely out of shame, I'd also bought cookies. I can't help if he now thinks that one of God's plagues on Egypt is soon to hit our city, but I cannot do this often; it's better that I buy them in bulk and never do it again. I inwardly jitterbugged in the desperate hope that this would make him put them all into a bag faster, but – to his credit – he was entirely professional, methodical, and blessedly, gloriously silent.
I went through that whole day in the desperate fear that my bags would be searched for food, or that they would fall open in the middle of my Bible study (consisting mainly of – surprise - young men) and I would immediately be sent to hell – do not pass Go, do not collect $200.
Part of this is my upbringing, part of it is myself. It's easy to say that you shouldn't be ashamed of your body (I'm not), but I... just... I don't really want to open this discussion, or even think of this topic, with strange men.
Thankfully, Butters is not a (very) strange man.
I got home earlier this week to have him proudly present to me and Timbit his contribution to our herd life: his cellphone company had sent him a message regarding how to keep track of his menstrual cycle!
After chuckling about this together, Timbit tried to pretend Orange was offering to organise our monthly schedule.
Cycle menstruel seemed pretty clear to me, but I debated letting her continue in innocence.
...Then I clearly specified that it was definitely an offer to track our periods (as in, the week once a month wherein sneezing is devoutly to be avoided - not the dot at the end of sentences).
And this is how we're settling in together – Timbit is calm and quiet and complains less than me about the water situation (FYI, this is no great feat), and the buckets in the bathroom I share with Butters are always magically full – it's a daily miracle! I have no control over the water situation (even though my brain continually provides me with dire statistical graphs regarding the fact that it is the rainy season and yet our water tank is empty), but we have two large storage bins of water and I'm determined not to think about it.
(Until I find myself unable to wash my hair on an appointed Hair Washing Day. On that day, there shall be much wailing and gnashing of teeth.)
There are some things I wish I could ask Butters (for example, the origin of the mysterious schwinnggg-g-g that usually occurs early in the morning, but may be heard at any time during the day), but I'm afraid he will provide an irritatingly rational answer in an irritatingly smug fashion (“It's the sound of a baby peeing. How do you not know this?!”)
But most of the time I feel like I fit in; knowing common local phrases helps.
Aiko ville / Njo ville / Sinjo
Swahili
lit. That's it / Isn't it
An Expresspost, all-expenses-paid invitation to agree with the speaker.
E.g. You will get married to a Congolese, njo ville.
*
Aushangale! / Ashangale!
Swahili
lit. You are / She is not shocked!
Easily translatable for Indians: Do you/they have no shame?! Incredibly versatile, especially for conversations between friends, this can be used as a response to anything from a funny story to an insult to a colleague showing up to work in a full-sleeved top, jeggings, and a short skirt (may be accompanied by a pat on the behind, to the everlasting shock of said colleague).
*
C'est pas facile / C'est complique / C'est difficile
French
lit. It is hard
Basically the ending point of any conversation on politics, education, family, culture, money, social life, marriage, etc. Usually indicating disagreement with the practice under question, but a firm committment to it nonetheless.
E.g. I don't understand why people have ten children when they can't support them, but... c'est difficile.
*
Il faut comprendre
French
lit. It would do to understand
See C'est pas facile / C'est complique / C'est difficile
*
Nous sommes ensemble / Tuko pa moja
French / Swahili
lit. We are together
May be used as a question or as a statement to acknowledge physical proximity (e.g. sharing space or planning to meet) or a determine a similar understanding of a concept. This phrase demonstrates this culture's obsession with closeness and relationships.
*
On va voir
French
lit. One will see
The most vague possible way to say No without that epithet ever passing your lips. (note the lack of use of a personal pronoun). Usually in response to any question/situation that has a snowball's chance in hell of fruition. Foreigners may confuse this with the similar We'll see, which actually indicates the possibility of moving forward in some way at some point. Foreigners are silly.
E.g.
Q: Can you fix my laptop?
A: On va voir.
*
Present
French
lit. Present (adj.)
This may be used as a statement to confirm presence (e.g. in a classroom). However, it is most often used to indicate total, blind incomprehension of anything just heard. To ensure ultimate politesse, it must only be used at the very end of any explanation.
I silently dared the bespectacled young man behind the counter to say something as I pulled packet after packet of feminine hygiene products out of my basket. Solely out of shame, I'd also bought cookies. I can't help if he now thinks that one of God's plagues on Egypt is soon to hit our city, but I cannot do this often; it's better that I buy them in bulk and never do it again. I inwardly jitterbugged in the desperate hope that this would make him put them all into a bag faster, but – to his credit – he was entirely professional, methodical, and blessedly, gloriously silent.
I went through that whole day in the desperate fear that my bags would be searched for food, or that they would fall open in the middle of my Bible study (consisting mainly of – surprise - young men) and I would immediately be sent to hell – do not pass Go, do not collect $200.
Part of this is my upbringing, part of it is myself. It's easy to say that you shouldn't be ashamed of your body (I'm not), but I... just... I don't really want to open this discussion, or even think of this topic, with strange men.
Thankfully, Butters is not a (very) strange man.
I got home earlier this week to have him proudly present to me and Timbit his contribution to our herd life: his cellphone company had sent him a message regarding how to keep track of his menstrual cycle!
After chuckling about this together, Timbit tried to pretend Orange was offering to organise our monthly schedule.
Cycle menstruel seemed pretty clear to me, but I debated letting her continue in innocence.
...Then I clearly specified that it was definitely an offer to track our periods (as in, the week once a month wherein sneezing is devoutly to be avoided - not the dot at the end of sentences).
And this is how we're settling in together – Timbit is calm and quiet and complains less than me about the water situation (FYI, this is no great feat), and the buckets in the bathroom I share with Butters are always magically full – it's a daily miracle! I have no control over the water situation (even though my brain continually provides me with dire statistical graphs regarding the fact that it is the rainy season and yet our water tank is empty), but we have two large storage bins of water and I'm determined not to think about it.
(Until I find myself unable to wash my hair on an appointed Hair Washing Day. On that day, there shall be much wailing and gnashing of teeth.)
There are some things I wish I could ask Butters (for example, the origin of the mysterious schwinnggg-g-g that usually occurs early in the morning, but may be heard at any time during the day), but I'm afraid he will provide an irritatingly rational answer in an irritatingly smug fashion (“It's the sound of a baby peeing. How do you not know this?!”)
But most of the time I feel like I fit in; knowing common local phrases helps.
Aiko ville / Njo ville / Sinjo
Swahili
lit. That's it / Isn't it
An Expresspost, all-expenses-paid invitation to agree with the speaker.
E.g. You will get married to a Congolese, njo ville.
*
Aushangale! / Ashangale!
Swahili
lit. You are / She is not shocked!
Easily translatable for Indians: Do you/they have no shame?! Incredibly versatile, especially for conversations between friends, this can be used as a response to anything from a funny story to an insult to a colleague showing up to work in a full-sleeved top, jeggings, and a short skirt (may be accompanied by a pat on the behind, to the everlasting shock of said colleague).
*
C'est pas facile / C'est complique / C'est difficile
French
lit. It is hard
Basically the ending point of any conversation on politics, education, family, culture, money, social life, marriage, etc. Usually indicating disagreement with the practice under question, but a firm committment to it nonetheless.
E.g. I don't understand why people have ten children when they can't support them, but... c'est difficile.
*
Il faut comprendre
French
lit. It would do to understand
See C'est pas facile / C'est complique / C'est difficile
*
Nous sommes ensemble / Tuko pa moja
French / Swahili
lit. We are together
May be used as a question or as a statement to acknowledge physical proximity (e.g. sharing space or planning to meet) or a determine a similar understanding of a concept. This phrase demonstrates this culture's obsession with closeness and relationships.
*
On va voir
French
lit. One will see
The most vague possible way to say No without that epithet ever passing your lips. (note the lack of use of a personal pronoun). Usually in response to any question/situation that has a snowball's chance in hell of fruition. Foreigners may confuse this with the similar We'll see, which actually indicates the possibility of moving forward in some way at some point. Foreigners are silly.
E.g.
Q: Can you fix my laptop?
A: On va voir.
*
Present
French
lit. Present (adj.)
This may be used as a statement to confirm presence (e.g. in a classroom). However, it is most often used to indicate total, blind incomprehension of anything just heard. To ensure ultimate politesse, it must only be used at the very end of any explanation.
E.g.
“I went to Amigo and I was looking for a rolling pin, but I couldn't find it there, so I went to La Beaute, but I couldn't find it there either, so I'm wondering if I can find it in one of the shops along the main road. Do you know where I can find one?”
“Present?”
*
Vous êtes là
French
lit. You are there
May be used as a question or as a statement to acknowledge physical presence (e.g. seeing a friendly face) or assess comprehension of a concept. No; I'm gone - the instinctive response of sarcastic foreigners - is inappropriate.
E.g.
“Stigmatization of vulnerable populations affects their security and independence. Vous êtes là?”
“I went to Amigo and I was looking for a rolling pin, but I couldn't find it there, so I went to La Beaute, but I couldn't find it there either, so I'm wondering if I can find it in one of the shops along the main road. Do you know where I can find one?”
“Present?”
*
Vous êtes là
French
lit. You are there
May be used as a question or as a statement to acknowledge physical presence (e.g. seeing a friendly face) or assess comprehension of a concept. No; I'm gone - the instinctive response of sarcastic foreigners - is inappropriate.
E.g.
“Stigmatization of vulnerable populations affects their security and independence. Vous êtes là?”
“Oui, je suis là.”
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At the risk of sounding desperate - PLEASE WRITE TO ME!