5/10/08 Goodbye Party

This afternoon, we had a “party” to say our official farewell to our village. All of our family members were invited, plus there were a few crashers. As parties go, it was very, very chill. Everyone was sitting on one of the cushions along the wall – men on one side of the room, women on the other – and the only people moving around the narrow room were in the process of serving food. I took a few turns making rounds with beverages and snacks, as did all of the female PCTs and a few women from the village. There was no music, because there was a death in the village yesterday, so music would have been inappropriate. So basically, it was people sitting down, snacking, and chatting with the folks within earshot.

At B**'s prompting, I gave an impromptu announcement, letting folks know who has been assigned where, so that everyone would know where we were leaving them for, and then I reiterated the invitation (which they’ve all received hard copies of) to our Swearing-In Ceremony next week (inshallah). Other than saying the date wrong – I treated it like it was in the 20s or 30s instead of in the teens – it went well. Lhumdullah.

Stupid epiphany of the day: It’s really hard to understand someone when they’re speaking a language you don’t expect. At a party this afternoon, I was talking to someone across a room, and he answered me in French. I’d asked the question in Tamazight, and was trying hard to understand him over the noise of the intervening conversations, but just couldn’t figure out what he was saying. When he finally reduced his answer to a three-word sentence with one-syllable words, it penetrated. It gives me more compassion for villagers who will be expecting me to speak French, like most of the Westerners they encounter; when I speak in my shaky Tamazight, they’ll be trying to recall the French they learned in primary school.