What words matter?

My weekly French lessons have progressed with Issa. In that classroom setting with him correcting my pronunciation and filling in phrases I don't know, we are able to carry on elementary conversation for our hour long session. Obviously not without the expected frustrations. Mainly Issa getting frustrated with me, "No, I told you! you don't pronounce the last e!" And no matter how many times he interrupts me with an emphatic "ahn", 'en' comes out with Spanish autocorrection just like it's spelled "en". Yet even with Issa's frustrations with me, I generally come away from those classes feeling like a pat on the back.

But then I go back to the hospital, with the corresponding increased level of adrenaline running through my veins, and my brain responds in whichever language it knows best. One of two things happen. Either, I catch the Spanish and stop myself, essentially saying nothing as I try to sift through the words swirling in my brain finding a French one that will get my message across. Or, I let the Spanish come out with a French accent rendering my words unrecognizable in either language.

I feel like I'm at that point where not only do I not know French, but Spanish is now lost in the process.

As part of my efforts to learn French, I started paying attention to social media accounts that were in French. Whose goals are to introduce the world to the French language. They have taught me things like, absolutely no one uses "tres" anymore. I should use things like "trop" or "super" instead. But then I pass by the hospital gate and the littles yell out to me

"batoure!!!!"

"ehhhhhh bonsoir! comment ca va?"

"ca va tres bien!"

And I laugh to myself as I figure, what does some lady in Paris know about real life in Mango, Togo. tres bien it is!

And then sometimes, you don't need words at all. Running by a school early one morning the school children saw me and ran to the side of the property to yell and wave. One little girl didn't stop there. She hiked up her skirt and jumped the trench to meet with me on the road. Her friends followed suit and I found myself running down the road with a pack of giggling little school girls. My heart just about burst! I managed a few French phrases, but with so much I wanted to say to them, no spoken language would have sufficed. All was communicated with our shared smiles and laughter. One of my top five experiences here in Mango, to date.

Much Love.