9 /9/05

I'm on my way back home from the market with Ertchey, making my way down the dirt road, through the gauntlet of children chanting Nasarra gal kay/ Anina Salté! Whenever I do something as amazing as walk down the road, children stop what they're doing, and gape open-mouthed as I pass. After I'm safely past, the chant starts, from the boys who sing/shout it in perfect unison, to the toddling little girl who hasn't learned yet, and simply yells Nassar! Nassar! Nassar! frantically. I jokingly look at my arm.

"Je suis blanc?" I ask Ertchey. Am I white? He looks at me suspiciously, like he's not sure how to answer. "Oui," he says hesitantly. Obviously my attempt at sarcasm is lost on him. Strange, considering that Chadians are masters of stating the utterly obvious, (Tu es la? C'est maintenant? Are you here? Is it now?) I would've thought he'd get the joke. Of course, without trying to sound hurtful, Ertchey isn't exactly the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree, or to put in a Chadian context, the brightest cheap Chinese lantern.

We're almost back to my house, dodging cow manure and motorcycles buzzing by, when a teenage-looking boy flags me down.

"Monsieur, J'ai une lettre pour vous." Sir, I have a letter for you. It's in a brown paper envelope marked 'REPUBLIQUE DU TCHAD, REFERENDUM 2005,' addressed, "To see Mr: Nathaniel (American) at Gounou-Gaya." I open it. It's from a student of mine, not Jonas, who wrote me before– last I heard, he'd joined the Gendarmerie. This one is from Dang-Sou Zonsou Toulna, who was in my Seconde class last year.

"Allo Nathaniel (Americain)

Good Morning

Mr! I have a beautiful weather that may me to write you a little bill concern my billetin that day.

Before all, I don't forget on you.

How are you?

When at me, I carry very well in the DJARAO BORO I.

Also let me think that you carry well, and I till you the new of my work last year 2004, 2005.

Dear my teacher

Good, I have gone up (1ere L) I thank many God who is with us always for next year 2005, 2006.

Concerned my grade I have seventeen in the billetin if no I went to find eighteen.

With all, without problem.

Who are going no?

If God want, we would meeting the next year 2005, 2006

Thank

At last your affectionate

Dang-Sou Zonsou Toulna (In Djarao Boro I)"

Dang- Sou was my best student last year.

Of 300.

I'm not sure, but I think he's asking me to inflate his grade ("Who are going no?"). His letter is so incomprehensible that I can't tell. If that's in fact what he wants, it's probably good that his letter makes no sense– not only would I not change his grade, but he'd be in serious trouble.

Dang-Sou comes to visit me a few days later. Over the next 15 minutes he tries to speak English with me, which poses a dilemma. Speaking English, he's just as unclear as when he's writing it– I don't want to hurt his feelings, but how do I tell him he may as well be speaking Moussei, as much as I understand him. Do I tell him, "I know you want to speak English with me, but of every 10 words you say, only two of them are understandable?" We struggle along in an uneasy linguistic truce, as I respond to his questions in comically slow and simple English, and if I actually want to tell him something, speaking in French. Eventually he seems to realize we're not making much progress.

"Bon. I you am leaving– haveagooday," with the last four words running together in an insane jumble of syllables.

What do I do? I want to encourage him to speak English, but when he does, it makes no sense. He was one of two students last year to earn a perfect 20/20 on one of my tests– if his English level is any gauge of the Chadian educational system, am I doing anything here but wasting my time?

Later in the evening, I'm helping Hibé, the director of the theological seminary translate his résumé into English, to apply for a Doctor of Divinity program in the US. I don't mind doing it, but I do wonder if he realizes that any course he takes in the US is probably going to be in English. I don't say anything though. We're going line-by-line, and we get to 'Languages Spoken: "Moundang (local language)- Complete Fluency," "French- Complete Fluency," Arabic (Chadian dialect and literary)- Average," "English- Average."

Hibé speaks English about as well as Dang-Sou. If he speaks English at an average level, than I speak the following: Arabic (Chadian and Literary), Chinese, Danish, Dutch, English, French, German, Greek, Hebrew, Italian, Japanese, Moussei, Ngambaye, Norwegian, Polish, Russian, Spanish, and Swedish at an average level, which is to say that I know at least a word or two in each. I don't know if Hibé really thinks he actually does speak English any more than Dang-Sou does, but if either of them really want to, it'll take a lot more than anything I can do.

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