By any other name

I met three new young’ins at the gate today. Two boys, maybe 9 or 10, and a girl, maybe 8. The girl only spoke French, the boys spoke French and Kinyarwanda. We exchanged the things I know how to exchange with kids–hi, how are you, I’m fine, what’s your name. These kids had some extra spark, and I wanted to keep chatting, but my Kinyarwanda still sucks.

So I pulled out something I thought might make them laugh….

“What’s your name?” the older asked me in Kinyarwanda.
“My name is Jina,” I answered in Kinyarwanda. Then I switched to Swahili. “Do you speak Swahili?” I asked.
“Yes,” he answered.
“Jina langu ni Jina,” I told him—My name is name.
“Jina lako ni Jina?” he echoed, in disbelief.
“Ndiyo,” I said. Yes.
“Hapana!” he said, his eyes huge. It means No but the way he said it was more like, “Get out!”
“C’est vrai, mon ami, c’est vrai,” I told him, and they laughed almost more than I usually do.

I kind of like the idea that there are little kids wandering around, wondering why in the world white people name their kids something so obviously inane.

1 Comment

  • Sarah says:

    Huh. That’s kind of like how “ana” in Arabic means “I”. It caused some serious confusion re: my roommate in Egypt (Anna.) Actually, also my roommate in Yemen, Jenn (jinn = “spirit/ghost”). And my friend Abby (abi = “my father”) or her friend Bess (bes = “enough!”). How does this happen with such alarming frequency?

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