Guest Author: Theresa Walelu

The first day of school, I just entered the school building. I didn’t know what to do. English I didn’t know how to speak. I met a white girl in the hallway. How to start to ask for help? “Hi” is the only word I knew in English. “Hi,” I said to the white girl. “Hi,” she replied. “No English,” I responded. “Oh, it’s fine,” the white girl said. She took me to the main office. There was a white lady sitting. She had gray hair and love to smile. You could tell when you just took a look at her face.

               “Hey, what can I help with?” the white lady asked.

               “Oh, sorry, she doesn’t know how to speak English,” the white girl responded.

               “OK, no problem,” she said.

               She looked at my eyes. “You speak Swahili, don’t you?” she asked. I checked my head up (yes). She made an appointment with my counselor. “Sit there, your counselor will come to take you.” The white girl went back to class. “Asete” (thank you), I said. “My pleasure,” she said while she left the main office.

               After a while a beautiful lady came out of the small room, with such good red heels and a black skirt. “Mbuyamba Walelu, come with me.” Luckily there was a man in her office who spoke the same language as me. “What can I do for you?” she asked.

               “I want my schedule and to know how to get to my classes. I don’t know anything. It is my first time going to school here in America,” I said in my language. The young man that was sitting next to me said it in English.

               They gave me my class schedule and someone showed me where all my classes were located. He did a great job showing me around the building.

               Then I was in my first period class. There were some students who spoke my language. They welcomed me and introduced themselves. Then it was my turn to speak. How could I start? I knew nothing about English. I was talking to myself inside my heart. ”My name Theresa” said my voice a while later. All the class started laughing. “What did I say funny that makes you all happy and to laugh?” I asked.

               “The way you say it is funny,” all the classmates responded.

               “It is not funny to laugh at someone when she speaks, OK,” the teacher said. “OK, everyone apologize to Mbuyamba.”

               “OK, we are sorry. OK, don’t get mad.”

               “Ok,” I said.

               Then the day was good. I met a lot of good friends. Some spoke English, others spoke my language.

               I learned how to speak English in a week. Everyone was surprised, especially my family. My family was happy. Then they found someone to help them with English in any way.

               Now it’s two years. If I tell someone that I have lived in America for two years, no one believes me. I didn’t want to give up on myself. I want to tell those who used to laugh at me that. I can now speak English better than you who have lived here for five years.