Just Some of the Reasons I Miss Didinga

The cutest baby in all of Didinga, Thabon Lokong.
Check out those chubby, kissable cheeks.





















My Homestay Family...
The week before we evacuated, I spent the night at Marta's. I hadn't slept over since Homestay, and to be honest, I was certainly surprised at my eagerness and desire to do so. Since that stretching Homestay week, over eight months ago, I have grown to truly love my adopted Didinga family.
I suppose, this sleepover was much like any other.
We ate a late supper and rather than only pretend to eat, as I did throughout Homestay, I actually sampled a hearty amount of the corn ahot.
We made popcorn, something the whole family enjoyed, as most of them had never heard that magical pop, pop, pop before.
We lay awake on the cow skin hides late into the night, talking about our loved ones, our days, and our hopes for extended families of our own.
As many of you already know, Marta, my Homestay sister and closest Didinga friend was among those who gathered at the base of MurKuzan to taunt and accuse us that evacuation day. She asked my hutmate Janette why we stole the, "Rain Baby" and took it to America. She was harsh and distant. She seemed to be a foreigner.
And yet, Marta is not a "primitive" foreigner. She is my Didinga teacher, friend and sister.
Her actions were hurtful. And yet, if, and when, we return to Didinga I will make the choice to forgive and love her once again. I am learning how to love, even when I don't like.

















Pia...
Ever since my first couple of weeks in Didinga, Pia has called me, by her name, and I have called her, by mine.
Late at night, I can often hear her running down the hill, past our hut and onto her own, laughing and pausing just for a moment to yell out, "Augotono gonna shanni, Pia!" - "Hey, my friend Pia!".
She is a ham and I love her.
















Little Nacurre...
The other day, I was weeding my garden with my neighbor, Regina. It didn't take long for her little brother and sister, Marco and Nacurre, to slip through the fence and join us. Marco, who is all of nine, immediately asked me to light the home grown tobacco he had stuffed into a bright shiny green leaf. Meanwhile, little Nacurre repeatedly jumped between the rows of blossoming cucumbers and wilting swiss chard. She seemed to be, in my Mother's words, "wound up like an eight day clock". Knelling down at her side, I instantly smelt the alcohol on her breath, and realized that my small neighbors were once again...drunk.
The reality is, children, even very small babies, drink loads of alcohol in Didinga. Sadly, the initial shock factor I experienced seeing wobbly toddlers drunk, has faded. So, when I saw Marco and Nacurre stumbling over themselves in the garden that afternoon, I was sad, but no where near surprised.
After scolding the older two children for allowing their little sister Nacurre to drink as much as she had, we all settled into the task at hand.
Confident in Marco's weeding skills, even with his current blood alcohol level, I tried to keep an eye on the hyperactive four year old at my side. However, after turning my head for only just a moment, little Nacurre "weeded" a good two feet section of my marigolds!!! Seeing the damage, I tried to stay calm, reminding myself of her intoxicated state of mind.
I sent Nacurre into the house to ask Elly for a cup of water. And almost as soon as she disappeared, I was reminded of another little girl who in her effort to help, accidentally pulled up a whole slew of her Grandpa's precious cucumber plants. I have heard this story, of the freckled faced blondie, so many times that I can now somehow picture my loving Grandpa Scott following me into the house, lifting me out of my Mom's arms, wiping away the tears and taking me back outside for a much needed green thumb lesson.