Mong, Mong

Well the Scotlands and the Lobwaya Canadians have gone, along with Chris "black bull" Machar, who has been visiting us for a few months. Now it is Lydia and I as the reprentative kewajas in town. In 3 weeks we too will be leaving-- Lydia to the U.S., and me to Kenya.
I have started running again, although I am nursing that stress-fracture. It seems that it is hard to shake it with all the walking that I have to do around here. At home, I'd be dong a lot more driving and would probably wear some kind of boot, but here you walk or die (that sounds dramatic, but in the end, that’s true). I am only running 6k every other day so that my foot can still heal, but I can start my training for the half marathon I will be doing in October. I used to only run to the air strip and run the air strip and run home, but Lydia has introduced me to the idea of trying new things. So, lately I have been running down to a seasonal river and then running to the Catholic compound, and then back home. I hope that the fact that I am running in sand will mean that I'm way faster when I return to asphalt and sub-80 degree weather.
On my runs, I have learned the secret to greeting people along the way. Before I was gasping out the very breathy "Salem!", but recently have discovered the use of the local language greeting "Mong, mong!"
"Mong" is a lotuho (lotookoh) or lokwah greeting that is usually followed by 5 more "mongs" and then "Nguy" or "Ngola" or "detally". Nguy means "how are you?" in which you respond, "Ngiita" or "ngiita be be," which means "good" or "very good." So a typical conversation would involve an old lady or old man (because the younger generation speaks more in Arabic or English) holding your hand with 2 hands and saying "Mong, mong, mong,mong mong, nguy?"-- me: "ngiita."-- them: "aywah!" (meaning oh, that's good-- pronounced "eye-wha." When I'm running I usually forget the whole handshaking part and just throw both hands in the air like "don't shoot!" as a sign of respect as I gasp out "mong, mong!"


(road I run on towards the river)
The older people that are out walking in the morning seem to enjoy that I can speak the local greeting and I am also happy because it is easier to say. Even Callum, who is just about 2, can say the local greeting when someone enters the compound.
Since I have returned from Kenya, it has been hard to find anyone to help me with getting water from the borehole, so for the past two months I braved putting a jerry can on the back of Jordan's bicycle and ride to get water. Last Christmas when I tried it with a different, more large, bicylce, a six year old had to come to my aid! On Friday I attempted 2 jerry cans on the bicycle, which resulted in the reinactment of the Wright Bros. first take off. However, I didn't fall despite the rocky (literally) beginning and made it all the way to the church compound where I slowed down to get into to the gates and the jerry cans fell off right outside my compound. I was pretty proud of myself for making it that far. So, these days there are no 6 year olds in need to save me.
At the borehole there is usually a congregation of women and children no matter what time of day. This is usually a good time to practice juba Arabic and socialize with the other ladies. Sometimes they call me "Uma Lumuuno" who is Andrea, in which I have to clarify that I have no children and then that brings on more conversation. Why don't I have any children? Am I married? Why not? Those are very important questions that have to be asked every time (and you thought it was bad in the U.S.).
Usually when I arrive at the borehole the women tell me to bring my jerry can and cut in line, so to be fair (and to sleep at night)I offer to pump, or as they say, "doogoo", one of theirs-- sometimes 2. This is also an alternative form of exercise. If you put your arms out like to do a push up, and then bring one leg back and pump as fast as you can until each 20L jerry can is full, then you have done the equivalent to a bench press for the day. I feel like I'm at a church picinic some days, playing that game where you place your head on the handle of a baseball bat and then spin around until your dizzy and then run around the baseball diamond. That's what it feels like to pump 3 jerry cans quickly and then jump on the bike and ride off. :)

(Callum eating lunch with his friend Ingeriim and me leading some dance moves with children at the Scotland's going-away fellowship)