Three days ago, my moms and I were hacking away at the earth in the faroo and when they started singing. Faroo time usually coincides with gossip-hour and singing about different things, but this day one of my moms started up a song about everyone’s husbands.
Bent over at the hips, hamstrings and shoulders aching, sweat trickling steadily along my forehead and nose, I matched the whacks of my hoe to the rhythm of their song.
About a minute in, my mom stops singing and looks at me: “What’s Hugh’s last name again?”
Hugh? Who Hugh?… OOOOH! Hugh Jackman, my husband of course. “Jackman,” (which gets pronounced Ackman by them) I replied.
“Waaaaaaaaaaaoh Ackman buno fele…” and they were off singing about Hugh for me.
