The language of friendship

The small trading store, Zambia, where we bought our groceries and gathered to visit with one another, was owned by Shadreck, well known for making up and telling stories of a particular time and place.
 
My friends and I particularly liked hanging outside the shop playing table football, and interacting with shoppers, sometimes helping them carry their goods to their cars.  We enjoyed freebies from Sales representatives who would  give small gifts to close a deal and encourage return business.  I had a wide range of T-shirts, baseball caps and pens all bearing famous logos.
 
Stories of family, of traditions, come naturally to the store owner, Shadreck. Some of the customers wanted to sit next to him for his stories and his jokes. People who returned to the store through the years remembered Shadreck and asked about "the man that was real funny". What was fun is that every day you never knew what to expect, Shadreck, who may say greetings to a Tonga or greet visiting South africans or Russians. "That's what breaks it up," he used to say.  You meet people from all over. Shadreck could greet people in almost any language.
 
 "Immediately there's a connection when you speak in someone's language," said Shadreck. He knew about language. When he was 6 years old, he was sent to boarding school. "I couldn't understand why they beat us for speaking our own language," he said. "We wore uniforms. Discipline was harsh and strict." When he returned three years later, his grandfather and grandmother were waiting for him at the train station. "I embraced them. Tears were running down my grandmother's cheeks, and I made a tragic discovery. I could no longer communicate with them. I vowed I would relearn my language. Elders say the heart and soul of a people is their language."
 
I feel honoured by my Zambian blood.  I also honour the culture of fellow Zambians and others. "One of the things I liked about the store is that I got to sit by different people so I could hear their stories.