The boys don't often talk about it. At most they remember friends from school with fondness, but I don't get a sense they miss the country in the same way I sometimes think I do. (I'm still trying to determine if I really miss it or if it is all part of the settling into a new city phase.)
In the last few months, however, Nabih has shared his thoughts in a way that makes me proud. On more than one occasion his responses to an activity in school have resulted in him presenting a sort of mini-history of Congo to the class. I am impressed when I hear him speak so knowledgeably about the past political scene and the present implications. I am impressed with his ability to make connections and use his past experiences to inform his present learning. Maybe I did something right after all.
This past Friday we went out with a few of his friends to celebrate his birthday. Although our first intention was to go karting, when we arrived they were in the midst of remodeling. We took our cake and our carful of boys and headed over to the bowling alley.
It was a first for Nabih and he had a lot of fun. We had the place to ourselves, which often seems to be the case in terms of African entertainment. There was no customary changing of the shoes (what fun is bowling if you don't have the inconvenience of wearing someone else's ill fitting shoes!!??) and the bumpers were up, but none of that took away the pleasure of hefting a heavy ball down the lane and watching it knock over a bunch of pins with crashing success.
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| A real bowling alley...complete with chain smoking Lebanese grandma running the place |
When it came time for cake, Nabih insisted his friends sing happy birthday first in Lingala. He taught them the words and then listened with a satisfied smile as 3 eleven year old voices sang slightly off tune. Next came the French version, followed by the English. Not to be outdone, one of his friends insisted on singing the Dutch version. It was all topped off by the completely bizzare, "Attieke, poulet, frite" version which I have never heard. Maybe it was their on the spot tribute to Ivorian food favorites.
Nabih had also insisted at Mbalia's birthday that we sing the Lingala version first and he is always ready to speak to her in whatever Lingala he knows, sometimes asking for the right way to say something. Often he reverts to this when he feels like she is not listening to his command in French or English. As if she has some deeper understanding of Lingala that will inspire her to obey his command.
It's quite heartwarming to me and leaves behind a bit of hope that maybe those Kinshasa years weren't as hard on him as he'd led me to believe.
