Africa said, "Come home..."

I've been wondering lately how I got started with French. Yes, it's a part of New Orleans culture. Yes, it's beautiful. However, I've been taking it for so long that I forgot my reason for sticking with it in the first place.

The Bus
I was taking my usual bus ride into town. I sat in a seat by the window, leaving the spot open next to me. An African man got onto the bus. He plopped his 3 year old son down next to me. "Ah," he said to his son, "tu as de la chance. Regarde la mademoiselle. Elle est élégante. Oui, elle est élégante." His son looked up at me. I smiled at him and nodded. The boy looked back at his father. "Elle est élégante," the African man repeated. He continued to talk to his son for the rest of the way. Then, as I hopped off the bus, I gave them a farewell "Au revoir."

The Walk Home
There was a new girl in church on Sunday from the Ivory Coast. I got to walk with her part of the way home. We talked a little about Africa, a bit about her studies in France, some about my stay here. We parted with an animated "kiss, kiss." She grabbed me by the arm, looked me in eye, and said in her wonderful African accent, "I hope we see each other again soon."



Back to 8th grade, 13 years old. A Nigerian brings his wife to New Orleans. He takes courses in public health at the local university. They have a baby. You cannot separate me from that baby.

They move back to West Africa.

Summer 2000, The Crawfords go to Africa. We visit the family in their home and a missionary from our church. I have a year of high school French under my belt but am at a loss for words.

Now to 12th grade, 17 years old. The African family comes to our house for a "short" visit. They plan on staying a month, end up staying three. There are three babies, now (one born while living with us). I dance around the living room with the 4 and 2 year old. I read to them. I let them hold me for ransom in their castle. I am a horse.

It's time to go back to Africa.