"longo"

Sometimes when you start learning another language, you learn a new word and discover that it actually expresses a new concept. It’s not a literal translation of any word in your own language. The word “longo”, a word in Malagasy southern-speak, is like that. This word is what you call those people who may not actually be your family, but they’ve entered into a nearer place than just friends. Example: When someone says, “She’s like a sister to me,” they could say that she’s their “longo”.

I think the friend / family distinction might be more strict in western culture, because we’re so independent, and tend to prioritize the nuclear family as a separate unit from extended family. Actually, the nuclear vs. extended family divisions seem hardly to exist in some parts of Madagascar (and other communal cultures). “Family” is a large and ever-growing group, and families are very interdependent. If you happen to live a little distance from your family, then the people around you become like family, because one nuclear family (as we think of them) is not really sufficient on its own as a community. Therefore, those people who live around you and become like family are your “longo” (as far as I understand it).

Anyways, I’ve been thinking about this word, and what it means for me, because of something that happened this month. A wonderful woman from my church in Tana passed away unexpectedly. She was the wife of one of my pastors, and her four children are all about my age. They are a family that I became close to during the last two years. Her death was a shock to everyone—she really was like a mother to all the churches.

I was shocked too, when I first heard, and very sad. As that day wore on, though, I realized that I really needed to grieve, and that I needed to do it with my . . . well, my “longo”: my church, my family, the other people I love who were grieving too. 

My sister is staying with me this summer, and it was such a blessing to have her (also my "longo") with me during this time. We traveled up to Tana for the funeral, my desire to be with Mamy’s family and my church family growing stronger every minute. Typically, Malagasy people prefer the handshake to the hug; but everyone let me hug them, and we cried together.

Often when I’m in what we, in cross-cultural training, might call a “cultural situation” (wedding, funeral, church function, etc.) here, I feel slightly nervous: “Am I doing everything right?”,  “Am I conspicuous?” (the answer to that is always, “yes”!), or even, “What exactly is going on now?” But I didn’t feel that way at all this time. Why? Because this wasn’t a cultural event. Someone in my family, who is “longo” to me, had died. And many others, other “longo”, were in pain, as I was. So I belonged there, grieving together with them, giving and gaining comfort. Though I’m still saddened by Mamy’s death, I’m unspeakably thankful that God has given me these “longo”-relationships, both while I’m here in Mada and for eternity.