Calling it like we see it

My vocabulary here is rapidly expanding, though not as quick as I'd like. To be fair to myself, sometimes the difficulty in understanding people is due to the accents. We have people from all over the world, so "English" isn't as uniform as I'm used to. Other times, words are completely different or foreign.

For example, when a nurse asked when I'd like to go for tea, I stared at her unsure how to answer. I mean, what, we get tea breaks here? I didn't remember that from orientation... but then again there are a number of things I don't remember in those Lariam days. Anyway, "tea" apparently means "supper." I'll be sure to pass along the other funny ones at a later date.

And then there are the words we make up, unique to living in this microcosm. My favorite one by far came from today's shift. Yovophobia. "Yovo" is the term the Africans use here for us white folk. It doesn't seem to be discriminatory in a bad way, and anybody whiter than black is certifiably Yovo. While I don't think it's derogatory, I don't think it's exactly a compliment either. Kids on the street sing a little song to us as we pass by.

Yovo, yovo

Bonjour!

Cava?

Bien, merci!

It's apparently supposed to be all of the words Yovo's know. I'm proud to say I know more than that, but I'll be quick to point out I'm also pretty sure I'm making up words and using the past, present, and future tense in each sentence. Also, I've noticed some Spanish slipping in now and then... even though I only speak about fifteen words in the language (most notably numbers and "tiene dolor?").

Anyway, Yovophobia.

The kids here have a fascination with us Yovos. Most will just watch from a distance, singing the song in a playfully taunting way. The kids on the ship are a different story. We're not a curiosity- we're sometimes a perceived terror in their lives. We poke, prod, speak, and act in ways beyond their comprehension. Sadly it's virtually always also beyond their parents' comprehension as well, but they are the strong, brave adults who have the faith to entrust to us, foreigners with a poor or no previous track record, the lives of their children.

Let that settle for a moment.

Despite our best efforts, we cause pain and anxiety. So really, how can you blame the kids for being terrified of us? It seems like most of them come around eventually at least to some degree, though. Our little screamer today finally started sticking his tongue back out at me- the universal language of two year olds. And when I touched my tongue to my nose (a peculiar talent of mine), he giggled. A child with positively edible Burkitt's cheeks here for chemo laughed at me, my tongue, and my pathetic French. I was on top of the world.

My job here is done.

Only it's not really because it's never ending and heartbreaking. It's too easy to focus on the kids who don't get over it- their illnesses, their cancers... their Yovophobia. There's still little Fred* in the corner who shrieks and screams when you come near. His mom is overwhelmed with the task of his complex care and questionable future. She practically drowns him with water and juice in an effort to keep him hydrated like we ask. She took "push fluids" to the extreme, this time to our horror. But you have to understand, she believes if she does it well, then maybe that's one less encounter her toddler will have with us Yovos.

And that is hard for all of us.

*For real. I kid you not. *snerk* pun unintended