Re: Ebola (aka, don't worry Mom!)

Ebola, shmebola. I put that as my facebook status and then immediately deleted it because, even though I can have a cavalier attitude about it, it being far away and the chances of my getting it are microscopic, I have to remind myself that it is a Big Deal, and it is people's lives. However, I a little bit stand by my cavalier attitude, not at all in a disrespectful way, but in the kind of way that can assure my friends and family that I am not at all worried about contracting ebola. Again, I AM NOT AT ALL WORRIED. So you shouldn't be either. I am trusting in Peace Corps, that they care about my health and my welfare, and that they are being very very vigilant in making sure we are safe. I trust Peace Corps, so should you. Also, trust me, and even more than that, trust my teeny tiny isolated village. There is no way in seven hells that ebola is going to wiggle its way to me undetected, so don't you fret, moms and dads. I am gonna be just fine. Also, let's try to find that place where we aren't panicking uselessly but we are also helping some countries that, honestly, really need our help.

See also:

http://www.macleans.ca/society/health/frontline-physician-tim-jagatic-on-the-worst-ebola-outbreak-in-history/

Wakka wakka eyy eyy!

After a year in this country, I have decided that there are two ways you can choose to view this country. Obviously there are infinite ways to view this country, but in my experience it seems to go in one of two ways. Probably interchangeably. Some tend towards cynicism, and see Benin as this impossible swamp sunk in a mire of sexual harassment and political and economic corruption and a completely backwards way of thinking and doing. Others look for humor where they can, and spend their taxi rides smirking at the weirdo kids on the side of the roads and the silly mamas. I like to think that I lean more towards the amused than the cynical, with a hefty sprinkling of working-on-my-patience and losing-it-at-a-taxi-driver. And the occasional antisocial laying-in-bed-with-a-book day. But because I do exercise my humor muscles I often find myself in the middle of conversations that are laugh-out-loud funny. As an almost bilingual American expatriot living in an third-world country completely different from anywhere I've ever been, and as a young white woman carrying America on her shoulders into a tiny African village with no concept of life outside of the region, these odd interactions illuminate the differences of our lives, interests, tastes, and experiences.


Let me set the scene - In order to advertise that the charging booth (the only generator in town where the few people who have cell phones can charge them) is open for business, the owner plays super duper loud steel-drum-heavy Nigerian pop music, usually starting in the early afternoons and well into the night. Of course, this booth is right across the street from my house, so I am party to all the DJ-ing done in Angaradebou. My friend Mamadou and I were sitting outside my house making a salad when he cocked his head in the direction of the overpowering sound waves washing over our serene lettuce party.

Mamadou: I don't like this music. Do you like this music? It is not serious. I only like serious music.
Me: It's okay. It's very different than the music chez moi.
Mamadou: Do you listen to music like this in America? Non-serious music?
Me: I listen to all kinds of music.
Mamadou: Well, I only listen to serious music. Like Shakira. Do you know Shakira?
Me: Yes, I like Shakira. But Shakira isn't serious!
Mamadou: That's okay, I like her anyway. And Beyonce. She is serious.

Okay Mamadou. Whatever you say.

Later, Mamadou came to my house while I was reading and asked me about my book. I was reading Game of Thrones at the time, and please, dear God, how on earth do I explain Game of Thrones to a Beninese man??
Me: Umm, there's a king, and he dies, and there are -- big lizards that fly? C'est "dragons" en anglais. And people die a lot, and people kill... it's about a family... in a... how do you say the land where there's a king?
Mamadou: Is that real? Is he a real king? Is this in America??
Me: Haha, nooooo. How do you say.. when it's not real... and there's fake people...?
(Because I knew all this stuff about a fake king in a book, he then decided to tease me endlessly about how I don't know anything about any of the kings or presidents in Africa. Which is totally fair.)


I am single-handedly creating the impression that white people are weird weird weird. And that we all like Shakira, which if it isn't true it should be. During one of my language interviews, in another conversation about books, I had to describe the time traveling romance novel I was reading at the time. ("There's a girl, and she lives in England, but she goes back in time in a machine du temps...?" "Machine du temps??" "A time machine?? I don't know. Don't worry about it.") There are a lot of don't-worry-about-it moments in my life. In an effort to be honest, I often talk myself into a French black hole that I can't get myself out of, hoping only that one of us will call it and say, eh, it's really not that important. On va laisser.

But maybe the best culture-sharing, eyebrow-raising, what-will-you-white-people-think-up-next moment was when I was called by the acquaintance of my Spanish nun friend to explain the running with the bulls in Pamplona to a roomful of Beninese men in French. Umm... people die but it's for fun? Like I said, weird weird weird.

So, I guess what I'm trying to say, even though there is sexual harassment and political and economic corruption and a completely backwards way of thinking and doing, there are also really smart, funny, interesting people, and really smart, funny, interesting conversations to be had.