Talking to Monica: Part One

A young Indian girl darted past me several times. I was studying Hindi language from a text book and reviewing flashcards. My stomach had been twisting in rampant turns for three days, and I wasn’t in the mood to converse. Finally the girl stopped and asked me a question.

The following is an excerpt from a 45 minutes English-speaking conversation.

Monica: Have you seen my friend Sophia (peering down to where I sat)
Libby: Sophia is with her mother at the market.
Monica: Oh. Pause. Where are you from?
Libby: Portland, OR.
Monica: Yes, I know. There was a lady from Virginia. She took me to Vacation Bible School.
Libby: Oh. Smile. What is your name?
Monica: My name is Monica. What is your name?
Libby: My name is Libby; pet name for Elizabeth.
Monica. Oh! Elizabeth. That’s easy to remember. There are so many “Elizabeth’s” in the cemetery.Pause.
Libby: Where are you from?
Monica: I am from the cemetery.
Libby: I run past the cemetery in the morning.
Monica: Yes, I saw you this morning. My daddy was giving our (guard) dog a bath. He bit my daddy’s hand. Giggle.
Libby: Yes, now I remember seeing you there! ….uh…where do you live?
Monica: I live in the cemetery. My daddy guards the cemetery. And he keeps the garden nice too.
Libby: Well he does a nice job. Smile.
Monica: You can visit me sometime and I will show you the angel.
Libby: The angel?
Monica: Yes, the tombstone with the angel. It’s very nice. Someone broke the angels hands off, but you will like it.
Libby: Yes, I would very much like to have you show me the cemetery sometime.
Monica: When will you come?
Libby: Stutter… uh.. I will come with my husband tomorrow evening after class.
Monica: Big smile. Okay.
Monica: The cemetery is very peaceful. You can come and study there if you want.
Libby: Thank you. Maybe I will sometime.
Libby: How old are you, Monica?
Monica: I am 15 years old. My brothers are 10, 11, and 12 years old. My oldest brother feeds the goats. We have five! Someday my oldest brother will go to school when my daddy gets another job.

Three days later, Ben and I visited Monica. What follows is the bitter-sweet reality of mixing business with pleasure, of “doing life” with others, and in return being forced to attend to the not-so black-and-white questions in life. I am still processing.