So, today at SFI, we had another new teacher. This time it was a young Syrian woman who speaks Syrian, Arabic, English and Swedish. And, while I thought she was very good, I do wonder why we keep having different teachers. Like last week, she did explain why she was there but given my terrible Swedish, I didn’t understand.
Still, it was a fun class with lots of interaction. We were a combined B1 and 2 class again which meant there was over a dozen of us. We also went through the “My name is…I come from…I live in…I have so many kids…” routine again.
The new teacher was obviously shocked by the revelation that Djouma has 17 kids (that number has not changed) and I was surprised to discover that Achta, a woman in class, had given birth to seven of them.
Achta is a tall, thin woman from Sudan who looks rather weathered. I figured it was because of war or famine or some other refugee reason but, it would seem, it’s the result of so many pregnancies.
What their relationship amounts to is beyond my understanding. I don’t think they are together at all. For one thing they live in different places and Djouma always sits next to me rather than her. In fact, he barely acknowledges her presence when he arrives. I really don’t get it.
Apparently, the other ten kids are still in Sudan with their respective mother(s). I don’t know. It’s all very confusing. I’d love to know his story (as I would with many of my classmates) but without a common language, it’s impossible.
I did, however, hear a bit more of Dina’s story.
It was raining quite heavily during the break so I sat inside and we chatted. She told me about her life planting and picking rice, looking after the cows and playing golf. She has had a lot of jobs and experiences, mostly in Malaysia. She fears nothing and is open to change when it appears. Her story is quite extraordinary.
Speaking of the rain, it continued all day, making a mockery of the perfect weather we used to enjoy. It meant there was only a little work done by Harald and Roger (they installed a window in the stuga). It also meant a rather bored Mirinda and Emma.
Freya slept and I researched a few more soldiers and cooked a casserole which was the perfect accompaniment to the weather.
