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.
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?