Lekol

“Come on, I need your assistance if I’m really going to help you learn anything. What are some words we use every day?”

“Well, good morning is something.”

“Yes, it is, you’re right.  For bonswa? Do you know how to say that?”

“Good… afternoon.”

“See, I’m telling you, you know how to speak this language. Now how about nouns – like things or objects that you talk about every day?”

“Well, I don’t know…”

“Ok, I’ll give you a few examples. House, that means kay; clothes means ràd, food means manje, bed means kabann –“

I pause, looking up from the little list of words I’ve prepared for our English lesson to find Guerline in a fit of giggles. “What?” I ask her, “What is it?”

“Oh, Chris, I don’t have one of those. I sleep on a piece of carpet.” She’s laughing hysterically.

Taking her cue, I begin to laugh easily as well. “Well tapi is carpet in English, dear.”

“Caaarpet,” she repeats slowly, still holding the ‘r’ in the back of her mouth, as is habit for a Francophone such as herself. Her laugh dies off, but her huge smile remains.

I’m happy when she turns her head down towards her notebook for half a second; it gives me a little time to release the embarrassment I’ve been hiding behind my eyes as I glance at my own paper. And, after the brief moment, we continue.

“Desk,” I say, “that means biwo. School, you know that already. It means lekol.”