Aaron's Blog

Life for the Boys

Posted May. 25th, 2007

Up to this time we have not written a lot about David and Eli, and their experience of living here in Rwanda. That has not really been by design, but I can certainly admit that it hasn’t helped that we’ve been worrying about them, David in particular. Perhaps the fact that I am interested in writing about their experience is a sign that we are moving to a new phase—crossing into new territory.

Admittedly, David is not a typical child. Even with his native English friends, he is somewhat of an anomaly and struggles to be a part of the group. This natural tendency has been exacerbated here, because his greatest strength has always been language. To move to a new place, where few people can understand what you are trying to communicate (particularly when you already feel that people have a hard time understanding you, as David does), is challenging, to say the least. David’s natural defense mechanism has been to close down to the outside world and cultivate his imaginary world.

Thankfully, the last few weeks have begun to indicate that David’s world is changing. His resistance to allowing Celeste to speak French to him in the home has disappeared, and he now often understands her without needing her to translate. At his French school, the kids are now coming up to us when they see us to share their excitement that “il parle francais, maintenant” (he speaks French now). This is a remarkable change from “il derange boucoup” (he’s really bothersome), which was what they used to like to tell us when we dropped him off for school. Of course he still has a long way to go with his French, but what is important is that the story he tells himself, and the story that the other kids at school reinforce, is shifting from one of rejection and frustration to success and acceptance. What a miracle that is!

Yesterday David shared with Celeste his new secret to making friends: “you have to speak their language,” he said with authority. In one short and simple statement, David was acknowledging his newfound acceptance that learning a new language is hard work, but also an effort worth making. Surely his struggles will continue, but we are finding a renewed hope and gratitude.

In the course of conversations with David’s teacher, she has continually stressed that each child is different in language acquisition. She didn’t need to illustrate the point too thoroughly, because our household is a case in point; Eli is exactly the opposite in the way he has approached our new life here. Always eager to be liked, Eli does his best to communicate in any way he can.

From the beginning, Eli has demonstrated his natural capacity to connect with those around him, even if he can’t use words. First it was with smiles, hugs and affection, and then silliness and laughter. As time has passed, however, he’s quickly and effortlessly (it appears) soaked up both French and Kinyarwanda. When he celebrates his third birthday next month, he will already be well on his way to being tri-lingual.

That’s not to say that everything is easy for Eli. His natural temperament has helped him adjust more quickly than his big brother, but recently Eli has begun the dreaded “terrible two’s”, which for him (like me) arrived closer to his third birthday. When frustrated, Eli has begun to throw tantrums that last for 20 minutes or longer. His lung capacity is astonishing! We do our best to be supportive while also letting him know that if he’s going to scream as loud as he possibly can, he has to do it by himself in their bedroom.

Eli has also begun growling like a tiger when he feels angry. Yesterday, during one of his grumpy periods, I asked him what happened to the sweet Eli. “I ate him,” he growled. I’m not sure where this new little animal is coming from, but at times I can’t help think about the stories he brings home from school. He is also at a French school, but a smaller one with a bit more of a “homey” environment. Of course “homey” is all relative to what our homes were like, I guess, because when Eli announced not long ago that “my teacher tried to cut my hand off with a pair of scissors,” we began to realize that discipline in their case is not exactly what we would hope for in an ideal world.

As everyone knows, however, there is no ideal world. Certainly Kigali has its rough spots, and many things that are less rosy than we imagined before our arrival. “My teacher put tape on a boy’s mouth,” Eli recently shared with us at mealtime. “Was that scary,” we asked? “No, but I don’t want that to ever happen to me,” he replied. We enthusiastically agreed with him and encouraged him to listen to his teacher and do what she says. But we also decided that next year Eli will join his brother at the more institutional (and expensive) Ecole Belge, where the environment is a bit less punitive. Hopefully, by that time his tiger will be a bit more under control, as will his temper tantrums.

And as for David, we recently gave him the option: “if you could choose, would you rather be at a school where the kids speak English, or French?” we asked. “I prefer to learn French,” came his surprising but reassuring response. And in time (perhaps more quickly than we anticipate) with his current positive attitude, he certainly will.

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