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Tuesday, July 24, 2018

Baby Wuz and Other Blunders

The refugees in Moria speak a variety of languages - but Arabic is the most common since currently more of the refugees come from Syria than any other country.

None of our missions team went to Greece with any skill whatsoever in Arabic!  During our two weeks there, we all learned a few words, and most of us were inspired to learn to speak Arabic on at least a toddler level. Though we were trying to communicate the gospel without words (see this post), words are so helpful in communication!  That seems obvious, but spending a few weeks communicating with hand signals, charades, poor drawings (think "Pictionary"), and cell phone photos made me really appreciate the gift of words (it also made me realize again what a curse the Tower of Babel was). 

Here are some of my humorous moments attempting to use Arabic:

1) Baby Wuz

In an attempt to become more familiar with the women and children visiting Gateways2Life, I decided to start asking the moms their names.  I knew they didn't know English, but I thought if I just asked "What's Your Name?" enough times, they would figure it out.  A lady was dropping off her baby in the kid's area, and I asked his name.  After I repeated the question several times while pointing at her and the baby, she pointed at the baby and said "Wuz."  She pointed at herself and said "Zenam."  I recorded these words in the Notes section of my phone.  I then proceeded to carry the baby around and tell everyone his name was Wuz.  Later, I looked at my notes.  Wuz, Zenam.  (if you say them together, you realize the problem).  The mom was just trying to repeat after me!  I have no idea what that kid's name was.  He just became "Baby Wuz" to our whole team.



  

2) Not a Girl

A young mom asked me if we had any clothes for her baby.  There were a few items stored in boxes in the "attic."  Melanie was holding the baby and said, even though he's dressed like a boy, I think it's a girl - pointed out the painted toenails and little bracelet.  I searched for some pink clothes - unmistakenly little girl clothes because I felt a little sorry for the little girl having to wear hand-me-down boy clothes.  When I returned and showed the mom, she looked at them and said "no."  I wasn't sure if she was saying no because of the pink or because they wouldn't fit.  Melanie and I tried all the charades we knew to ask if it was a boy or girl.  Finally, the young mom laughed and pulled down her son's diaper!  This communicates in any language!

I was blessed to get to hold this little boy and pray for him several times - that he would leave Moria for a better place, be introduced to Jesus, and be protected by God (who affords much better protection that this little "anti-evil eye" charm that he wore).



3)  Not Moria, but Afwan?

Our third day on Lesvos, a brand new baby showed up in the Center, and a woman loudly proclaimed over and over "Born in Moria!  Named Moria!"  I naturally thought the little girl's name was Moria (I knew at least I had gotten the girl part right).  So our last day there, I asked the mom the baby's name using my best Arabic for "What's your name?"  which I had learned to say something like "Shoo esmek?"  She said Afwan.  I thought that was a pretty name, but as I started to mull it over, I realized that Afwan sounds like the Arabic for "You're welcome" and "Shoo esmek?"  sounds a little bit like "Thank You."  I did not have the nerve to ask again.  She will just be baby Moria to me.  


4) Husband Not Beheaded After All

You may have read an earlier post where I talked about my "conversation" with a young woman who said her husband was beheaded while her young son watched.  I am happy to report that I misunderstood!  I realized this when she showed me cell phone photos of her and her husband's trip through Syria, Turkey, boarding a rubber raft, being picked up by an English rescue ship, and in Camp Moria.  He is alive and well!  She continued to talk about beheadings and such (with unmistakable hand motions) but I began to understand that these were things she saw, but it did not happen to them.  This is why they fled.  She said Syria was beautiful.  I looked up photos on my phone and at first just saw soldiers and bombed out buildings.  Then I googled "beautiful photos of Syria" on my phone and showed them to her.  She said "Ah, Syria, Syria!" and began to cry.  In this case, a picture was worth a thousand words.  

I can also say with confidence that this woman's daughter's name is Lara and that they aspire to join relatives in Canada. 


5) The Arabs all love my name!

When I say my name is Susan, they smile.  They tell me it's Arabic (I thought it was Hebrew, but I don't bring that up).  They can not only say it, they know what it means.  So with all my blunders, I've got that going for me!  


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