![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBqN0F-UCF_L7aunloIgRKgk1m4_qky0WLDLACrAOwjar3ne4aMWH-MmomG-u2FFOTNNikJdDl-TjufPF7khefMt0XGkW0BXMKCMyhPT4YISXfamxE3CZBuV0wTtVwdiM4zXb3AWDk3GU/s400/nakupenda.jpg)
I actually took two semesters of Swahili at Wesleyan. Shoulda just spent a semester in East Africa... would have remembered more.
This morning my girl, Dionne Monsanto, had this has her FB status: "Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don't know how to replenish it's source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings." -Anais Nin
It made me remember that year of Swahili. The only line I remember - besides what I know from growing up celebrating Kwanzaa - is: Nakupenda sana (I love you very much)