The local kids are fascinated by my very exotic kids. I was walking ahead with the three kids, Buttercup on my back, and some schoolchildren walking by darted in to tag Emerson. They had probably dared each other to touch the white boy, giggling and poking each other. Emerson hunched in his shoulders and looked quietly upset, but not totally surprised. But Hibiscus hasn't been walking with us all summer, and the grab and the sad face brought out her little mother bear.
She wheeled on the boys and immediately demanded, "why you for beating my brother? Is for nice, you hit him like dat? .... No, is not for nice. You no more beating my brother!"
I was amused how her first instinct was to address her fellow children in English, which they certainly didn't understand much of, although actually since we had travelled across the country they were of a slightly different ethnic group and would have understood Luganda even less. But I think it is clear that English has come to the forefront of her thoughts in many ways. I also liked that she paused to give them a chance to agree that they weren't being nice!
But more than that, I was proud of how her immediate instinct was to defend Emerson and call him her brother.
No comments:
Post a Comment