Few things make him smile more than his youngest daughter, Nuru. Nuru is four and a half years old. She moved to America at 7 months of age and has no recollection past the Highland Heights neighborhood in Memphis. Nuru is American; and, like most American children, she has grown up on a steady diet of the Disney Channel, Nickelodeon, Cartoon Network, and Qubo. To say she speaks English is an understatement. She drips her sentences in pre-teen sarcasm, makes jokes like an after-school special and wins your heart with spot-on karate kid impressions. She's brilliant and kind when she wants to be, but slightly unscrupulous. This summer she learned how to appropriately use, "sike." For instance, she'd say, "We're having chocolate ice cream for dinner...SIKE." Or, "Merry-death, I'm going to give you a million dollars...SIKE." She's pitch-perfect, that one. Whoever came up with that colloquialism would be quite proud.

A few weeks ago, Zebedayo and I were in the car coming back from the airpot. Sometimes we have a hard time making conversation; Nuru's vocabulary surpassed her father's a long time ago thanks to Drake and Josh. Also thanks to Drake and Josh, Nuru can sing every line of "Soul Man." Zebedayo and I do usually find something to talk about. This time it was about names.

In Burundian culture, the last name is chosen for a child just like a first name; therefore, there is no one family name. All of Zebedayo's children, and his wife, have different last names. These last names are chosen according to the father and mother's preference, and for Zebedayo's family, each name reflects a characteristic of God. Although I had asked the meaning of the names before, I wanted to get them straight this time. Of course, since I did not write them down, a few have escaped me. Zebedayo tried to translate them for me in English but his limited vocabulary didn't always have the capacity to be clear. When we came to his oldest son Wailes, he paused thoughtfully before he proceeded with the meaning.

"You know how Nuru, she say, SIKE sometimes?" he asked me. I nodded my head yes.

"Niyukuri means," he stalled again, "God --- He no say sike." He looked at me quizzically to see if I understood. I grinned.

"Yes, I understand. God tells the truth. God is true," I said and nodded in agreement.

"Yes, Merry-death. Today, you teach me. God is True," Zebedayo concluded.

"No, Zebedayo. You teach me. That is a good example. You are very smart," I told him. He laughed. I bottled it up.

I've been thinking about that interaction for a while now. God does not say sike. God does not say, "Gotcha!" He doesn't say, "Do this...J/K!" He always keeps His promises, He always leads purposely, He always brings Truth in the lies. He is not misleading nor does He joke at our expense. I am so grateful.

When you begin to question the next step and wonder if the risk is worth it, if the action really makes sense, or if God told you one thing only to really mean another...just remember:

"God --- He no say SIKE."

From urbandictionary.com: sike - The immediately preceding statement is false and was told to mislead.