Class Dismissed

My Flemish class is winding down.  I've not missed a day so far.  For five days a week, I've learned a little more Dutch and more importantly, I've had the privilege of getting to know some very nice people.

Our teacher has masterminded a class where we spend a great deal of time talking to each other - one on one. Partnering for each assignment.  My only regret is that I don't speak better Flemish.

We still have our perceived assigned seats that we chose on Day One of the class.

To my left sits Zahra from Afghanistan.  She's a poetsvrouw (poots vrow) - a cleaning lady.  When asked what she likes to do - she says she likes to clean.  She's married and has a 2 year old son. She shared a picture of him with me one day and I told her in my best Flemish that he is beautiful.  And he is. 

My effort at a conversation with Zahra in a language neither of us speaks very well . . .

Me: How long have you been in Belgium?

Zahra: For 10 years.

Me: Will you ever go back to Afghanistan?

Zahra: When it is calm, I hope to return because my family is there.

Me: I hope it too.

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Next to Zahra sits Makka from Chechnya.  She is young, in her 20's.  She is happy and laughs every day. I don't know how long she has been in Belgium nor why she is here.  She told me her parents are dead and she dreams of going to Paris one day.  Sometimes she brings gum or oranges or cookies for everyone.  She says she wants her hair to grow longer, but I cannot see her hair because it is covered with a veil.

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To my right sits Mohammed from Iraq.  He is 26 years old, but looks more like 18.  He is skinny with jet black hair and says he loves to play all sports.  He said he hopes to have a house of his own and be able to stay in Belgium, but he is not certain how long he will be allowed to stay. We partner for nearly every assignment, but he's never changed seats.  He always sits to my right.  He doesn't get to attend class every day now.  He told us that he got a job training to be an auto mechanic.  He was so proud. 

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Our class will end and I'll probably never see any of them again, but it was my good fortune to get to know them. Zahra may  return to Afghanistan, and Makka may climb the Eiffel Tower, and Mohammed may build his house in Belgium.

I hope it. I sincerely hope it.