Hidden from the sun by my umbrella, sweat is pouring off me
as my face beams brighter than Rudolph’s red nose. It is hotter than I expected
today and with no wind to offset the high temperature, I can only grumble as I
hike up the hill to get home.
Marabeng, an area of the village one hill over from my own,
comes into a view. Suddenly, the hills are alive with the sound of...a chorus
of children screaming my name repeatedly.
“Ausi Thato!” “Ausi Thato” “Ausi Thato” “Ausi Thato!” “Ausi
Thato” “Ausi Thato” “Ausi Thato!” “Ausi Thato” “Ausi Thato” “Ausi Thato!” “Ausi
Thato” “Ausi Thato”
Despite being nearly 300 meters away, the children of Marabeng
have successfully identified my white skin and unique umbrella. As their two
word refrain continues to repeat and echo itself, I cannot help but laugh and
smile. Too hot and tired to yell across the donga to them, I extend my arm out
in an exaggerated wave.
Immediately, the choir begins the second verse of their
symphony; a round with my name overlapped by “Buh-bye!” It continues to repeat
for over five minutes as I occasionally wave, continue to chuckle, and
eventually work my way out of sight. Even then, I can still here one child
repeat, “Buh-bye Ausi Thato! Buh-bye!”
After I moved to my village, I made it my personal mission to
convert the children of my community so that I would get hellos instead of
goodbyes as I approached. Despite multiple explanations in practiced Sesotho,
the young children of the village would still come running up waving and
shouting “Buh-bye Ausi Thato!! Buh Bye!”
After a few months of confusion, I asked Ausi Nthati, a nine
year old girl, what the Sesotho verb for waving was. As our conversation was
strictly in Sesotho, I actually asked “What is this?” while waving. She
excitedly waved back to me and said “Buh-bye!”
I was afraid she did not understand, so I confirmed that to
actually wave was to buh-bye. And with her agreement, the chorus of the
children throughout Lesotho made more sense to me. With no other word for
waving, a decidedly Western gesture brought here sometime in the last two
hundred years, everyone simply refers to it as buh-bye. Since the Sesotho
version of saying goodbye is either sala
hantle (stay well) or tsamaea hantle
(go well), when Basotho bid adieu in English, they use the literal translations
of the Sesotho phrases. The word goodbye is not utilized.
Children from the younger classes come running out to greet me when I approach or leave the local school. |
And so, after gaining perspective, I have gotten off my
goodbye soapbox. Instead of being annoyed at being dismissed or amused by a
language oddity, I instead relish that the young children of the village are so
eager to get my attention. When I walk by them as they play, attend pre-school,
or help out at home, someone always starts the same chorus and is then
immediately accompanied by every other child near them. It is sung with such
youthful enthusiasm and cherubic voice that it always makes me smile. If we are
close enough for conversation, I will stop and chat briefly with the children.
Otherwise, I will wave and greet them.
Sometimes, I even forget my English degree and find myself
shouting back “Buh-bye bana!” (bana means children) as I approach them.
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