Dispatch from Goma: "Say My Name" (...or don't, that's fine, too) by Jennings

Aimée is fascinated. With me. She stands on the veranda outside the office and tries to catch my eye, then gives me a small, shy wave. I give a small wave back and a smile. She walks away, then comes back again a few minutes later. This goes on for hours. Aimée is 5 years old, and I've known her since she was a baby, since 2009, when I first started coming here to Goma a couple of times a year. Her father is the caretaker for the translation office compound, and she has 4 older siblings and a baby brother, Manu, who is not quite 1 year old and is walking.

Aimée

Manu, back in February (before he could walk)

When the translators have left, I go outside and sit on the steps with Aimée and Manu. She strokes my (fascinating) pink, furry arm. We play a game, with my limited Swahili:

Me (pointing to Aimée): What is your name?
Aimée (softly): Aimée
Me (pointing to Manu): What is his name?
Aimée (again softly): Manu
Me: And what is my name? Do you know?
Aimée (looks up with a big smile): Muzungu!

Right, close enough. I could tell her what my name is, but she knows me as Muzungu, and that's all right. People seldom address me here by name, anyway... I'm not sure it's quite polite to use first names. So people call me "Madame" or "Mama" or "Madame Douglas", if they know Douglas' name. As for "Muzungu"... I've never been crazy about that name, but I'm coming to terms with it. Especially when it's used with obvious respect or affection. Or by a little cutie like Aimée.