"Angale"/English

I once made Demba a worksheet about the word “dude.” All the ways which one can use the exclamation. Frustaration: “Dude!” Disbelief: “Duuude.” In greeting: “Dude.” Little stick figures voicing the versatile one-syllable slang.

Harouna uses beautiful English. Words like “aloof, engaging” and “to make a long story short.”

I hear “Good morning!” at night. “How are you fine,” in typical Pulaar greeting fashion of simply talking, without pausing for responses.

I call Ballyl’s new baby “Chubby Cheeks” and say “bless you” after people sneeze.

“OK” was the hardest English for me to eradicate from my speaking habits. I learned the Pulaar verb “to be unable” just so I could use it in reference to my inability to stop saying OK.

People trip on “sh” sounds, so I tell them my last name is “Smit.”

I remember the moment when I realized I could think about something other than the situation at hand. I was at the well. Greeting other women, discussing lending my water-fetching bag, hauling water from the depths of the ground. But in my head I was tallying objects I needed to buy in Nouakchott for my Paris trip. What I needed to pack before I left Kaedi. I was thinking about things other than my Pulaar grammar and every single word others were throwing at each other, yet I could understand all actions that were occurring. I rejoiced internally at this realization. What freedom to be able to transport ones thoughts elsewhere without detracting from one’s participation and understanding in the current moment. What a gift to not have to be painfully, consciously, intently, processing each moment as it passes.