I just had the delightful experience of watching while a picture book was curiosity-devoured by Maria, the 2-year-old daughter of a One Mango Tree tailor. Maria used to cry in terror at the sight of my white face but we had become friends before I left Uganda for four weeks of travel. Now I've been waiting for her to trust me again; she doesn't cry but stares at me apprehensively.
Today I waved a couple of kids books in front of her, smiled, held out my hand and said "Come, Maria." She was instantly lured by the book and even took my hand until we reached the doorway. Then she let go and refused to leave sight of her mother, who was busy peddling an old Singer across the room. I sat down on the floor, just beyond the doorway and tried, unsuccessfully, to engage her in peek-a-boo flirting, but the best we did was make eye contact a few times
After five minutes or so, I laid the books on the floor within her reach. But she didn't reach -- just stayed out of my line of vision. Another couple of minutes passed in the shyness standoff. Then I held the colorful "Mystery of the Missing Dog" out to her, around the door frame; she hesitated but hearing her mother's reassurance, in Acholi, she finally took it in her hand.
Usually with a child that age most of the talk would be about objects in the illustrations, using words a 2-year-old would know -- boy, girl, dog, lost, Daddy -- but she knows no words in English and I lacked the Acholi/Luo vocabulary. My dialogue attempts did not work well, but that didn't dampen her enthusiasm one bit. She could do it alone. An organic unfolding.
Maria carefully turned pages, not in sequence of course, and gazed intently at each for much longer than I would have ever expected of an American toddler, even if good commentary was being made by an adult companion. Next, she would silently study the photos of the author and illustrator. Then she would return again and again to the same randomly flipped pages, only occasionally uttering a comment. In Acholi.
The books content held her full attention for almost half an hour, after which she entertained herself with the form of the book. She would drum on it with her hand or clutch it to her chest, patting it rhythmically. Eventually she got her feet in on the fun, first with the book propped on her outstretched ankles and feet and then by balancing the book on her upright toes -- and catching it when it fell off. Then she experimented by hiding it under her body, spreading her little dress to cover it.
I wonder how long her imagination and curiosity would have sustained her love affair with the little book if uninterruped. I had stopped doing more than observing by this point, but another tailor tried to show her the farm animal book and how to press a button and get animal sounds. This one held no interest for her; she glanced, then ignored it. But the spell was broken and she put down her favored book.
I have given the book to Maria's mother so they can read it together at home. I'm eager to hear what Maria tells her Mom about the story book experience, from her perspective. One thing sure -- she's capable of sustained focus and she likes this picture book from America.
NOTE: The report from Pamella, Maria’s mom, was that she kept saying “It’s MY book, Adaah gave it to ME.” (Adaah (spelling??) means Grandmother in Acholi/Luo and is their usual name for me, except for the ones who call me jajaa, the grandmother tag in Luganda tribal language)
Here’s hoping Maria’s love affair with that book will evolve into a passion for literature and discovery and maybe even expression of her own imagination through writing someday.
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