The woman in green

By Maria Nguyen

An hour into Monday morning’s ESL class at 220 Oak Street, a middle-aged woman walked into the classroom. Wearing a green hijaab and a tired expression, she took a seat in the centre of the U-shaped classroom and opened her ‘Basic Vocabulary in Use’ book.

Hagi, the class’s instructor, dragged a chair over and plopped in front of her.

“We’re learning Yes/No questions today,” he began explaining to her.

“If I say ‘Do you know Ali?’ what do you say?”

The class waited.

She pursed her lips and thought for a few seconds. “Yes, I… am?”

She was clearly having trouble concentrating. Despite Hagi’s repeated explanations about using the same verb in the question to answer, she kept getting the verbs mixed up.

As the class wound down and they were finishing up their work, she began talking in Somali to the other women in the class. The quick pace of her words and the sudden risings of her voice made her story sound urgent and angry. I eavesdropped despite not understanding what she was saying.

Hagi saw me scribbling in my notebook and quickly walked over to my seat. He motioned me to follow him to the end of the room. There, he translated her story.

“Some of her family members have just been killed in Somalia.”

I could hear her voice elevating again at the other end of the room.

Apparently there are two rebel groups fighting in Somalia, and her relatives were fighting in one group when they were ambushed and killed.

“That’s why she had problems concentrating today.” My hand was still covering my mouth when Hagi told me she was leaving half an hour early. “To go home and call her family members to let them know what happened,” he said.

Packing her books into her black bag, she pushed the metal chair away from her heavy body. The chair made an ugly screech against the floor.

After smiling at her classmates, she made a semi wave at Hagi and me, quietly mouthed ‘bye,’ and walked towards the door. Her matching green dress billowed behind her.

I watched her walk away and wondered how someone whose family has just been killed still find motivation to study English. I don't know why, but I suddenly felt ashamed.