Joy.

Today after lunch, I came to my room to rest a bit. The sun was hot, and I've not been drinking enough water because of the massive fluctuations in temperature between night and mid-day, so I was nursing a slight headache. I intended to read, write a few postcards, and maybe take a short nap before meeting Sister Christine to trade computer lessons for Acoli lessons.

Four year old Joy had other plans for my afternoon.

Shortly after I came back from lunch at the convent, there was a knock at my door. I opened it to find Joy smiling up at me. "I'm bring baby," she told me, disappearing back to the mango tree where her mother and another woman were stringing bead rosaries. Within a few minutes, she was back, baby sister (or friend, I'm not sure) attached to her hip.

playtime.

I sighed, clearing away my writing supplies and watching my nap slip out of grasp. Instead, I pulled out the mat and toys that I keep handy to encourage children like Joy to visit my room. A plethora of balls, cups, small animals, shiny papers, and other odds and ends soon covered the floor. As I busied myself with a few tasks around my room, Joy would periodically interrupt me, "Look! Beautiful!" She has quite an extensive vocabulary for a preschooler, which I'll let St. Monica's Nursery School take most all the credit for, but one of her favourite words has thus far proven to be "beautiful." She uses it to describe, among other things: me, mardi gras beads and colourful bracelets, a matchbox car, and her favourite ball. Whenever Joy is playing in my room, I can count on hearing many exclamations of "Beautiful!"

Before long, Joy abandoned the toys and headed toward my bathroom, which she likes to use. "I go pufu," she told me, not a request, but a statement. I gave her toilet paper and left her to her business, returning after a bit to help her pull the handle and remind her to wash her hands with soap. Joy is certainly not shy.

After some more playing (and my recording and playing back a video of the two girls, much to Joy's amusement), the baby became fussy, so Joy took her back to Mama. Meanwhile, I gathered my dirty clothes, basins, and soap, and set out to do laundry on my front stoop. When Joy came back, she insisted on helping me. I let her, but made sure to start with small items (socks and handkerchiefs) that her small hands would manage easier. Joy turned out to be a decent washer, though once I moved on to shirts and skirts, I distracted her by convincing her that the colourful stacking cups should also be washed. So, while I continued washing clothes, she washed cups (and then used my camera to photograph the women beading).

water for washing.

As we washed, Joy decided to take the opportunity for a little learning. Periodically, she would point to an object, "what is this?". I would tell her the name in English, leb muno, and if she knew it, she would teach me the word in leb Acoli. We went through articles of clothing, colours (which she didn't know in Acoli), and the things we were using for washing: basin, soap, water, nomi (detergent). She already knew many of the words, but of course, it's always good to revise, particularly during the holiday.

Suddenly, our linguistics game was cut short by the appearance of a young boy. Slightly older than Joy, he was too shy to speak to me (in either language), but quickly made for the toys inside. Before too long, his younger brother showed up to play as well. I watched through the open window as they discovered the animals and balls that Joy had scattered across my floor earlier.

Continuing with my washing, I was surprised when one of the boys came to the door. Holding a ball in his hand, he made a request. I can't reproduce the words here, but it felt like a bit of a lingual breakthrough to realise that I understood him: he wanted to go with it at home. My refusal didn't stop him - or his younger brother - from making the same request about almost every other toy in the basket. Later, when they were leaving, I made them empty their pockets, thus regaining a matchbox car, a bouncy ball, and two shiny marbles as they grinned guiltily.

When more children arrived to play, Joy led the gang to the swingset in the preschool compound, within sight and throwing distance of my front door. I finished washing, went to hang my clothes on the line, then came back and started some writing. Before long, there was another knock on my door. Joy again, naked this time. "I want the bath," she informed me. Although she's used my toilet on multiple occasions, this was the first time she's asked to bathe in my bathroom.

washing my socks.

I agreed. Supplying her with a basin, washcloth, and bar of soap, I showed her the tap and left her to her bath. I returned to my writing as Joy splashed - and washed, of course - in my bathroom. Later, I toweled her down and sent her back to her mother, who was waiting with clean clothes and a desire to head home. Nevertheless, Joy appeared again a few minutes later to ask for oil (lotion) to make herself smart. When I told her I don't have any, "oil pe," she waved and ran back to the mango tree.

Now, as I sit in my quiet room, listening to the insects chirp outside and watching night fall quickly over the dusty landscape, Joy's sweet presence still pervades my room. Such a sweet child - and so aptly named!