The Butcher Of Bahirdar! (Poor English Language!) – Ethiopian Journey – Blog Post no – 55

TFM would slide up to people and ask, “What is your good name?” This would stump everyone including the Ethiopians. Wild thoughts would race in their minds. “We have our names given by our parents. All names are good names. Why would anyone’s parents give their children bad names? Bad names are earned by people and not given by parents” Hold on to your horses! TFM’s intentions are usually good. Only his execution stank to high heaven! He was only translating the Hindi phrase, “Aap ka Shubh Naam Kya hai? (meaning what is your good name)”.

Once TFM was to be the anchor for a college function in BDU. He had a well prepared speech (rather learned by rote). But seeing the huge crowd that was looking speculatively and may I add with a rather keen and hawkish eye, TFM lost it.

He blabbered “Ladies, gentlemen and Faculty members!” There was an eerie pin drop silence and then the crowd roared!!! He made it look as if the faculty members were all from the third sex!. After that TFM was not the same person again. He quickly made an inglorious exit from the stage.  

TFM was suffering from a urinary tract infection. He went in for a urine examination. The lab technician was not giving the report. So TFM went to the chief doctor and said, “When are you going to TASTE my urine?” The doctor was astonished “Why should I taste your urine?” “You have charged me 50 birr. So taste my urine”.

The Doctor was getting perplexed. Luckily for him, the nurse could understand what was happening. She whispered something in Amharic and the clouds of doubt lifted from the worried brows of the poor doctor. He looked as if a tonne of weight was lifted off his weary shoulders. He broke into a winsome smile.

“Oh, Oh, Oh, you mean TEST the urine. Will be done sir, Will be done and you will get your report by the evening”. He winked conspiratorially at his nurse. TFM was sometimes too much to bear.

To the doctor’s surprise like a bad penny, TFM appeared again. The doctor was worried. He heaved an internal groan. His soul screamed out “Why me? Why me?” But no one answered his tortured soul. He tightened his loins.  Facing TFM once was enough but twice in two weeks was too much. TFM needs to give time for people to recuperate before he launched into his next onslaught.

Unmindful of the Tsunami he was about to launch, TFM walks (rather slides up) to the doctor and whispers in his ears “Doctor I have romantic pains”. The doctor had a shock of his life. He recoiled as if he was stuck by a speeding bullet.

“What romantic pains! I suppose you are married”. It was now the turn of TFM to look pained “what do you mean married? Of course I am a married and have two children. But what has that got to do with ROMANTIC pains. My joints are aching and I have pain in the entire body”.

The dutiful doctor had a brain wave; He almost shouted “Eureka” and executed a small jump from his seat. He was like a kid who had access to unlimited supply of candy! Controlling himself he said “YES, YES, I see, I see, You have rheumatic pains”.

The doctor made it crystal clear to his staff that whenever TFM visits the hospital the next time, he (TFM) should be told that the doctor had gone to Timbuktu and that he is not likely to return in his life time.

The poor doctor would slink along in the market. He used to throw worried glances all around him. He was scarred and scared. Scared that TFM would jump on him from somewhere and pose a question. Talk of occupational hazards!

Once TFM finished his class and announced “That was great, wasn’t it? Did you get the MASSAGE?” Even the most back of the back benchers woke up and gaped “what massage, what massage, who is giving whom a massage?” There was a buzz of excitement. Seeing the expectant face of TFM, it slowly dawned on them “Oh he meant the MESSAGE or the Learnings from the lecture!”

Another time TFM was counseling his mentee. The mentee was worried and wanted to go home. TFM asked “where is your house, is it the side town of Bahirdar?” The term “Side town” confused the girl. TFM meant the adjacent town! In Telugu we say Pakka Vooru and dutifully TFM translated it and it became SIDE TOWN. TFM was relentless. “What does your dad do, is he working or is he vacant?” TFM meant “is your father employed or unemployed?” We Indians can decipher what TFM is trying to say. But for Ethiopians who learn English during their graduation, TFM was an uncrackable Enigma!

Once TFM showed me his resume. It was written “last worked – Principle of XXX College”. I was totally confused. Then it struck me “He meant, Principal and not Principle”. He was fond of saying ‘Sexson instead of Section”. Whenever he said Sexson, my stomach would rumble complainingly! But there was no getting away from the omnipresent TFM. He was also fond of saying “I said you” and “you said me” instead of ‘I told you’ and ‘you told me’.

Once in a pep talk lecture TFM was waxing on eloquently. Most of us were bored to death. But what he suddenly said woke us all up with a jolt. He said “you should all be carrier oriented (I told myself which carrier, cycle carrier or tiffin carrier?)” He meant CAREER ORIENTED. 

TFM finished off in a flourish “Dear students, what I want to say in the end is, you should all be carrying!” The girl students looked horrified. Luckily it was my turn next and I adroitly said, “What TFM meant was that, you should all be CARING and take care of each other” and I saved the day for the Indian teachers!