Nanny 911

There is a little girl who lives in the compound behind us. She is the cutest kid you ever saw (not counting my nieces and nephews, of course), full of energy, and the most mischievous and affectionate child I have ever met. Her name is Precious (although it should be PreCOcious) and she is 5. She is also very bright, but her family does not have the money to send her to school, and so she cannot yet count to 10. So, anyway, Precious joins me when I sit on the top stair and have my coffee every morning (the veranda is too sunny and hot in the morning) and she is a hug machine. Although I try not to play favorites, I've come to adore her.

BUT...

Since we are a business and our local agents come to the office for charged batteries and reconciliation, we had a doorbell installed and we often like to leave the door unlocked when we are at home. Once Precious figured this out, she started coming in uninvited. She would come in the door at the top of the stairs, remove her flip flops and leave them by the door (why, when she was misbehaving did she make this polite gesture? I have no idea - just habit perhaps), tiptoe through Whit's room to the office, make a tiny little noise to get my attention, wait until I turned around and saw her, then smile, squeal and high tail it to the other end of the building where she would jump on my bed and roll around giggling and hugging my pillows.

When the door was locked, she would ring the doorbell (which is currently set to "Santa Claus is coming to town") and when we came to open it, try to squeeze by and into the house.

I had tried everything I could think of, short of bodily harm, to communicate to her that this was unacceptable behavior. I pointed at the doorbell and repeatedly said "No" (one of the few words I know in Twi), and so forth, but nothing worked. She had been told by her various aunties around the compound and by her grandmother to leave the oburonis alone and the neighbor who is right below us would yell at her anytime she was seen on the stairs. The advice from every Ghanaian with whom I had discussed the matter was to "beat" her next time she rang the bell or came in the house (...it takes a village and any adult is free to discipline any child in his/her community). I was told no one would have any problem with it.

I must say that in the last few days of chasing her around the house and placing her back on the stairs repeatedly, I certainly understood the inclination to whack her bottom, but I also realized it would be more a satisfaction of my own frustration than because I thought she would understand it and respond out of anything other than fear, hurt, or anger. I really wanted to give her a "time out" (hey, I've seen it done), but that would require me to communicate and reason with her, which I cannot do because of the language barrier. I was stymied.

Then, I thought of Nanny Jo. (Oh, admit it, you've been channel surfing and seen "Super Nanny" or "Nanny 911" - you know who I'm talking about.) Since I couldn't give her a "sit-on-the-naughty-stool" time out, I decided to try giving her an "emotional" timeout. Starting last Thursday, I began ignoring her. When she snuck in the house I walked down to my room, scowling the entire time (attempting to perfect the "mother" look), took her by the arm and pulled her to the door, opened the door, placed her - and her flip flops - outside and shut the door, all without a word. When I went outside and she came running up to me squealing, "Auntie Jan", I raised my hands up too high for her to hold one and walk me to the street, as she usually did, and continued walking, saying nothing to her.

Then Friday, she opened the door, but we were in the battery charging room and saw her immediately, so I went to the door and pushed her back out. Then I had our Assistant Branch Manager tell her that Auntie Jan was upset because she kept ringing the bell and coming into the house uninvited - and that unless she apologized and stopped this behavior, Auntie Jan would not be her friend anymore.

OMG - it worked! Since I hadn't spoken to her or smiled at her for a couple days, she was primed for Philip's message. On Saturday morning when I sat on the step to have my coffee, several of the neighborhood boys (ages 4-8) came up to see me. Eventually, Precious appeared and sat on the very bottom step, watching through the railing as her honored spot beside me was taken by a small boy who clung to my arm. She looked glum, but I tried not to make eye contact with her. She did creep step by step up to the landing, and by the time I had finished my coffee was just a couple steps below me but I still had not acknowledged her. I will admit that my heart was breaking.

Finally, I went inside and purposely left the door unlocked. Then I walked around to the door to the kitchen/shower/toilet/sink hallway, and watched surreptitiously through the window. Precious touched neither the door nor the doorbell. I did see another boy ring the bell, so I waited a few seconds and opened the door, pointed him out (in that miraculous way that adults have of knowing the culprit even when they were - theoretically - out of eyesight), pointed at the button, and said "No". He was missing a front tooth, so I know he was old enough to know exactly what I meant. I did notice out the corner of my eye that as soon as I opened the door, Precious began gesturing to indicate it wasn't her, and pointing at the boy. I already knew that, but I was delighted (and amused) to see that she understood what was expected of her, despite her need to lay blame.

I left the door unlocked the rest of the morning, and there was no sign of Precious - nor for the rest of the weekend. It turned out that on Saturday afternoon, she had traveled to see an Auntie in another town and returned on Sunday evening. On Monday morning, she again did not try to sneak in the house. So, when I saw her at the downstairs neighbor's, I went down. She ran up to me and then stopped short just in front of me and looked up tentatively. I squatted down to her height and asked earnestly if she wanted to be friends again. She doesn't understand English, but some things are universal I think. She nodded. I opened my arms and she nearly bowled me over with her hug.

Precious has touched neither the doorbell nor the door since coming home from her (other) Auntie's. When I am outside in the mornings and evenings she is always there, quite certain that her place is in my lap while the other children should sit on the stairs. Hey, I can't even speak her language to tell her to share. One thing at a time. ABCs and counting to 10 are next.

Thanks, Nanny Jo!
XO