помой меня? məni yu?

Things my kids write on the back window of our car.

помой меня. Why помой меня, instead of simply writing “wash me?” Because they can. My two kids who were born in Africa spent their early teen years living in a country where both Russian and Azeri were spoken, and because they were kids, they learned both languages easily.

Switterina learned Russian from a teacher who was from Moscow and so her accent was posh. Switter Jr. learned Russian from truck drivers, so his Russian was a little lacking in the subtleties of grammar and vocabulary. When they argued in the backseat of our car, it was in Russian or Azerbaijani so that any viciousness was muted for mom and dad.

Both learned Azerbaijani from friends, our office staff, and from exploring the city. Switter Jr. was fluent enough that he sometimes traveled with me to interpret conversations with the police at roadblocks and babushkas selling lavash, a flat round bread that is a local staple.

At a food store near our home, we often saw a tiny grandmother who sold fresh lavash to make her meager ends meet. We saw her as we parked at the store one afternoon, so I handed young Switter a handful of small bank notes and instructed him to give her the money but not accept bread. I watched as he handed her the money while she looked up at him as she said something. He then leaned down to her and she kissed him on the cheek.

Back in the car, I asked what she said to him. He blushed a little as he told me how she recited a blessing on him before she kissed him. From then on, we knew her as the blessing lady.

Before we moved from Maryland to Azerbaijan, well-meaning friends warned about how difficult it would be for our kids to adapt to life in another country. If only all our transitions in life went as well as our kids’ transition to Azerbaijan.

Within two days of our arrival , when we were still staying in our office guest rooms, Switter Jr. was busy in the evenings learning to play chess from the night watchman, an former aerospace engineer who lost his career when the USSR collapsed. Switter Jr. enjoyed car talk with our Russian and Azeri drivers, who shared local car magazines with him.

For the first time in their young lives, our kids had access to an in-home tv that was included in our fully furnished home. They were allowed to watch Russian and Azerbaijan game shows and sporting events. They also discovered that English language pirated videos were available all around town for less than US$3, but were often very low quality. Before the movie version of Narnia was released in US theaters, the kids brought home a pirated copy. Someone recorded a theater showing using a handheld video camera that went in and out of focus. When people got up to go out of the theater, they were visible in front of the screen. The squeaks and groans of theater seats was also recorded, and right at the moment the story reached its climax, the dvd ended. I don’t know if they ever learned what happened in Narnia.

One of my senior administrative officers was married to a feisty Georgian woman who immediately adopted Switter Jr. as her younger brother and they became quite a raucous pair. She teased him and he teased her, on and on and on. Another one of his adopted sisters was our chief accountant from Sri Lanka. At first I was concerned she might not appreciate his teasing, but now I think everyone in the world has a younger brother and knows how to deal with them.

In our experience, the well-meaning friends in Maryland got it wrong. Our kids thrived in their new home. Kids are giant curious sponges that soak everything around them. The more there is to soak up, the more they soak it up. They don’t even know that they are learning. In fact, the only downside was written in the dust on our back window:

помой меня or məni yu. It all means the same.

“Wash me.”