"He is my husband."

When I first showed my photo albums to my training village host family, I wanted to practice the new family words I'd learned that day. And when I first showed them to my permanent host family, back when I first arrived at site in September, it was because I was tired of sitting silently and awkwardly, so I thought sharing photos would be something to do. But I still couldn't say much more than "this is my sister, this is my brother."

However, sometime around Tobaski I brought out the photos again to show to one of the girls from the village (her name is Isatou, but she is Pippi in my mind, and I will refer to her as such) because we were sitting awkwardly and silently while waiting for the henna we applied on her feet to dry. And this time I could say lots of stuff! I could explain that we were dressed like zombies because we were dancing (okay, so I couldn't explain zombies...) and that I was soaking wet because my friends had thrown me into a pond, but I think she was too fascinated by the photos to actually listen to much of what I was saying.

I'm particularly fond of the following conversational snippet:

Me: This was me when I was a child.
Pippi: How old were you?
Me: Ten years old.
Pippi: I'm ten years old!
[Pippi points to a picture of my step-brother Taylor]
Pippi: That boy is handsome. He is my husband.

However, a few photos later she changes her mind and decides my brother Oliver (who's nearly twice her age) is her husband. Then, impressively, she identifies him in several subsequent photos.

So, Oliver, if you want a wife...