Jena Bita Ana

Yesterday we went to church in town. It is a fairly big church made up of one of the dominant ethnic groups in this area (not the people group we will be doing language development with). We got to church a little late and when we walked into the front of the mud building, the closest seat I could find on the women's side was on the front bamboo bench row. It wasn't until I sat down that I noticed I was the only woman on the row who wasn't holding a baby under two weeks old. It turned out to be baby blessing day, and all the mothers and new babies were taken in front of the church, named, blessed and prayed for. The mothers were wrapped from head to toe in their beautiful tobes of bright reds, blues and yellows while the babies, most still pink and wrinkled themselves, were swaddled a shocking number of times in crocheted blankets. The pastor read Mark 10:13, and I was again amazed at how God asks us to become more like those precious sweating little bundles in their mother's arms.
As much as I love babies, and have felt early twinges of the baby bug since we have been here, I think those urges have been temporarily allayed by our new pet dikdik. We have named her Jena which literally means "little bird" in Arabic, but is used locally to mean "baby" (I was really pushing for "Spike" but Bryan insisted that Jena was much more suitable.) We realized she was even younger than we originally thought, and therefore probably not weaned, after we found a little umbelican cord still attatched to her the other day. So we have been feeding her milk with a syringe which she fights like mad with all four (sharp) little hooves for the first ten minutes every time, until she realizes she's hungry and it tastes good. The food then gives her enough energy to romp around making an incessant little cry somewhere between a goat's bleat and a bird's caw. If she wasn't so cute doing it it would be pretty annoying. She naps mostly during the day but then roams around all night fussy and curious. Sometimes she wanders back into our room but mostly she explores the yard and I'm terrified that a dog is going to catch her. But we've been told that baby dik diks don't have a smell until they are a month old so maybe that will keep her safe for a while (if she can learn to keep quiet!)
Last night she didn't come back to her favorite bush in the morning like usual and I was so worried, annoyed, guilty and relieved (which made me feel more guilty). I asked the night guard if he has seen her and he went off in a stream of Arabic that I couldn't follow but I caught "Jena bita dikdik" (the baby of the dikdik) and lots of exaggerated squwaks and loud sighs which I loosely translated as "she drove me crazy last night." I eventually found her wet and hungry and scared but even so, she complained loudly the whole way home.
Of course all the locals (and even the not-so-local I am married to) get a kick out of me trying to take care of her, but nontheless, people have been so sweet to try and help. Some guys working on the compoud looked under every bush trying to help me find her and another man is trying to track down some goat's milk which he thinks will be easier on her tummy. The women that wash the clothes laugh whenever they hear her squawk and they tell me, "Libby, your baby is crying." Yes, thank you, I'm sure she is.
I don't know how long this will work, for her or us. But just when I think she is about to send me over the edge she will walk in the door of our hut and nuzzle up to my hand and melt me right to the floor. Even Bryan likes her, though he has his moments too. Last night I leaned over to kiss him and he looked at me and said, "You smell like milk and dikdik." But when I asked him: "After three years of marriage, did you ever think we would be living in a hut in this country with a baby dikdik on our porch?" his answer made me happy. He said, "You know, I kinda did."