Child of the village

In preparation for my mission to Bamba, I went to market with our logistician (in the car…gah, I get so pampered now!) to buy rice and beans because there are rumors there is nothing in Bamba for eating. At the bean vendor I was speaking with the woman making sure there weren’t worms in my beans. She later follows me to the rice vendor marvelled at my lack of accent, “n’ga šenno, wallahi, žiibi kul š’a ra.” "Her language, my God, it's not dirty at all!"

Later, when helping the people from Oxford get situated with their host family in Bamba, the women gathered said to me I was one of them—“these people here are strangers, but you Mariam, you’re a koyra izo!” 

Warm fuzzies.