I’m standing at my gas cooker the other day, making some lunch, with an audience of Lopit children at the backdoor, as always.
One of them, Oholong, who I don’t know to speak any English, does a little dance to get my attention, looks me straight in the eye with a devilish grin and says…
“Ibeja, Ibeja!” motioning with his hands at the door. “Take-out win-DOH.”
I was crippled with laughter. Where he got that from, I have no idea. They don’t even have take-out windows in Sudan or Kenya or Uganda, from what I know! I suspect one of my teammates…
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