Preparing to meet our first family for the first time was both incredibly exciting and unbelievably nerve-wracking.

I spent my 1-hour break between classes mulling over the produce section at the grocery store, arguing with myself over whether or not Burmese children would like Bananas. Or maybe oranges. Or maybe pears? What kind of fruit did they eat in their home country, or more-likely, in whatever refugee camp they might have come from? What if they don’t like what I buy? What if they don’t like ME?! (and variations of the same questions, probably enough to fill a word document.)

I ended up with a small green basket full of assorted apples and couple of nectarines thrown in just to mix it up.

And so there I stood, outside the apartment building with Sarah, holding my little green gift basket and a knot of excited nerves in my stomach.

We realized rather quickly that neither of us had ever had to buzz into an apartment building before. After fumbling through the directory several times and accidentally calling a stranger’s apartment (and promptly hanging up), we realized that our family was not listed. They did not have a phone, and we could not get in touch with any of our contacts. Long story short, we ended up sneaking into the building like a couple of ninjas.

After reaching our destination, we made several attempts at knocking and announcing our presence, waited around for a while, and tried a few more times. We called our superiors for advice, and decided the family was probably not at home.

We were halfway down the hall when the door finally opened.

The following five to ten minutes were pure confusion for all parties involved. Though we had thought for sure that our time had been confirmed by the Karen translator who was a friend of the family, it appeared that the father of the family (whom we still do not know by name) had no idea who we were or why on earth we were there. I suspected the family would not know much English, and I thought I was emotionally prepared to be talking to blank faces…but that did not truly prepare me for a situation in which they literally knew not one word of English besides “hello”.

Sarah and I presented them with our gift of fruit, and the younger of the two adorable little girls took it from me with visible excitement. Needless to say, my heart was soaring…even though they probably thought we were crazy. We left shortly after; we didn’t want to be intrusive, since they obviously had not been expecting us – but with hopes that we’d be back soon.

This is the second time Capri and I have visited our family and are they a blast. They are the kindest people I have ever met. The mother always comes in every 10 mins and ask if we need anything or to yell at her kids in a jokingly manner to only speak English. The kids Tom and Billy speak English pretty well but it is in fact the mother who speaks it the best. The father is the worst of them all but he tries his hardest to learn. When Capri and I are there, everyone is the household is doing Wajib, which means homework in Arabic. They always ask questions and the most amazing thing about them is that you just tell them once what the answer is and they do not forget it. They are such quick learners that I have no doubt in my mind they will have very few issues in the language department.
Their house is very spacious with good furniture, and one could say that if they did not know that they have only been here for 4 months, you would have assumed that they lived there for years. The family is so warm and loving that they will succeed in making it here.
Lastly Tom is learning to play the piano so Capri gave him an electric keyboard so that he call learn how to play and to prepare for his music exam. I know he will dominate it and I am sure he will want to show off his skills next time we meet.

Two Sunday visits ago, the children of our family asked us to come to their “tika” celebration that Thursday. Teressa and I were excited to experience this celebration and do something fun with the family aside from homework and english practice.

When I arrived at the party that Thursday, the house was full of people and felt as if the temperature had reached 100 degrees inside. Teressa was already there, complete with a tika on her forehead. Everyone was very welcoming and seemed happy to see both Teressa and I there. Lila, the mother of the family, fed us platefuls of things I could hardly identify. She let us eat with a fork, though most of the other party guests were eating with their hands. Though I am fairly open-minded when it comes to trying new foods, some of the textures made the food difficult to swallow, such as little bones and pieces of cartilage. I would be lying if I said I liked the food that night, but I think Teressa and I did a good job appearing as if we did.

After I received my own tika, we all went down to the basement to dance. Though Teressa and I hardly knew their traditional dance moves, they were more than willing to show us and watch us try them. We danced with men, women, children, and even babies. I was surprised to see even the oldest family members dancing with ease! Overall, Teressa and I had a wonderful night celebrating with our family.