The big kids.
Hanging out with Primary 5 is fun. Much of this is because I'm not directly responsible for teaching them anything. As a result, I can be that cool teacher who pops in occasionally and talks to them about whatever they want. They're the oldest kids in the school, so I give them a bit more of the adult treatment. We shake hands and discuss how their day is going. Sometimes I get offered a cookie. Other times, I just listen as I'm told how great Justin Bieber is.
A couple of weeks ago, I was sitting with the class, acting as a second set of eyes and ears while they took a Geography test. They finished early, so they started asking me questions."Where are you from?"
"America."
"Duh! But where?"
"Atlanta."
"Oh! Usher's from there! Peace up, A Town down!"
"Exactly" Thank God for people too young to know the phrase Hotlanta.
"What's your full name?" one of the girls asked me.
"My full name's too long, but my last name is Opdyke."
"Opdyke? What kind of a name is that?" one of the boys inquired.
"It's Dutch." I replied.
"So your father's Dutch?" another asked.
"What? No. He's American. And you guys know what Dutch is?" I said.
"Uh... yeah." responded one of the girls with the kind attitude that comes with being ten years old. "We just took a Geography test. Duh."
"Fair enough. So, why do you think my father is Dutch?"
"Because you said his name was Uplike or whatever and it's Dutch." they told me.
"No, Opdyke is my last name."
"Oh," said one of the boys who looked like he'd just had an ephipany. "So your grandfather's name is Uhdenike!"
"Well sure, everyone in my family has the name Opdyke."At this point, they burst out laughing.
"Wait, everyone in your family is named Yuptik?!" they shouted.
"Yes! Of course." I said. They laughed even harder. Clearly, this was one of the year's best jokes. "Why is that so funny?"
"OK. OK." said one of the girls through her tears, "So if everyone in your family has this name, why are you called Tom?"
"Because that's my name."
"Right, so then what's your father's name?" asked another girl between fits of giggles.
"Tom."
"No! That's your name!" cried one of the boys.
"Yes, my father's name is also Tom."
"So then what's your grandfather's name?" another asked.
"Tom."
More laughter. At this point I felt like I was on the outside of an Abbott and Costello routine.
"OK, so if your name is Tom," began one of the girls as she slowly tried to sort out the information I'd given her, "And your father's name is Tom and even your grandfather's name is Tom... then your name is Tom Tom Tom?!"
A hydrogen bomb of hilarity went off. Suddenly, I understood.
The Sudanese -and perhaps Arab culture in general, I'm not sure- don't have last names or family names. They simply have the name of their father in place of their last name. In some cases, if that name is too common, then the name of the grandfather is tacked on.For example, one of my kids is named Mohamed Abdul Motalib. When I have to call his name, which is often as he is fond of getting out of his seat, I have to say all three names. This is because, as you can imagine, Mohameds are fairly common around here. If I just shout "Mohamed!" then Mohamed Hatim or Mohamed Alshafie will get confused and plead their innocence for a crime they didn't commit.
But, if I shout "Mohamed Abdul Motalib!" the whole class turns and sees the right Mohamed race back to his chair. Though it's a mouthful, it's quite effective.
Back in Primary 5, I finally got the joke. The kids, unaware of things like junior, III, or even IV added onto Western names, found it hilarious that someone could share a name not only with his father, but also his grandfather. In short, looking at a man named Tom Tom Tom was too funny.
So I sat there and let them laugh. It wasn't the laughter of disrespect; it was the kind of laughter that only comes with hearing the absurd.
And why not? It is kind of funny.
Oh my gosh, that is HILARIOUS.
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