Here is a post that I wrote on October 8th. It was delayed because I lost my memory stick for awhile.
As it happens it is now 6:30 and another roommate has departed so here I sit as darkness falls on Arusha and the realization hits me yet again that there isn't jack shit to do in this town at night. I like to believe that such solitude is good for the soul as the greatest masterpieces seem to seep from the tormented pores of depressed and lonely people; however, that doesn't make it more appealing. With or without a roommate though it is difficult to say that there isn't a loneliness to being a foreigner in Africa. To me it isn't the sort of loneliness that makes you long for others as much as it makes you closer to yourself - in that way that wrapping yourself in a blanket of depression might seem so comforting that you might accidentally suffocate yourself with it. You learn a reliance on yourself here. You learn unquestionable self-sufficiency, but also that even in bizarre and lonely circumstances you are never in a vacuum. People are always helpful and they touch your heart, yet they never alleviate the sense that ultimately you are alone in your quest here. Sometimes I wonder if these generalizations have less to do with Africa and more to do with a phase of life. People can keep telling you that you are not alone, but that only serves to prove and reinforce your absolute knowledge that you are in fact quite alone.
God what is it with these deep philosophical inquiries? This is definitely the last time I take to drinking and writing as a suitable solution to excess alone time...if not that thenI promise it is ABSOLUTELY the last time I do it with a bottle of two-dollar vodka. This shit will either blind me or give me magical powers. Cheers! I'm hoping for the latter.
Well, anyway...perhaps we should move from the idly contemplative to the mildly interesting shit about Africa. The other day a girl in a school uniform walking in pace with me said, "Give me money." I said no and we continued on in awkward broken conversation for awhile. I discerned that she was in standard six and probably about 12-14 years of age. She said, "My mother is dead, give me money". I looked hard at her and said, "My mother is dead. Our mothers die in America sometimes too." I don't know why I told her this. I mean, since I last checked my mother was doing fine. I guess I just wanted to show her that it isn't so simple - not all white people have vast resources to scatter among the poor. I felt a bit bad about it later, maybe I should have given her something or atleast told her something honest - I just wanted someone to realize that it isn't that easy. Children always say, "give me money!" Men ask for money to go school. I mean, how can you give money to one person here? That doesn't solve anything. Everyone wants something from you here if you are white, and to be fair my flight over here is probably more money than they see in 6 months if not more, but I don't have enough money to fix all of these problems. And if the don't want money, then they want something else...
Every day men I pass say, "Hey baby, I love you" and (in Swahili) "How are you my fiance?" Sometimes they make kissey noises or offer their phone numbers or propose to me in the street. Sometimes it is ok, other times it is funny, more often it is becoming infuriating. More often it makes me want to look them in the eye and explain to them that I am not their fucking baby, not their fucking cock-tease - that I am here to help them to improve their fucking English so that maybe they could burrow their own way out of poverty. Yes....sometimes I am fussy. When I am really tired, sometimes I want to scream "THIS SORT OF BEHAVIOR IS THE REASON YOUR COUNTRY HAS A PROBLEM WITH AIDS". And to be fair, it is largely true, African male sexuality is viewed in the same light as that of a tornado. It is something that cannot be controlled and if you want to remain unaffected by it the only thing you can do is seek shelter if it gets violent and just generally pray. So anyway, sometimes it gets tiring and I want to be a little more honest. But really, I usually smile and greet them as though they have said nothing offensive at all because it is always best to be diplomatic and to avoid making unnecessary enemies.
In sum, it gets difficult sometimes.
It certainly isn't all bad. Sometimes it just gets to me. But even Masha, the uber-born again Pentacostal is affected by these biases. A few weeks ago we were talking about nuns and he enunciated his firm belief that nuns and priests cannot possibly go through life without having sex. He argues staunchly that nuns and priests live near each other and have gatherings for some holy shagging. I tried to explain that a few scandals do not make an absolute rule, but I suspect that this didn't make much of a dent in his perception.
Apparently in Africa EVERYTHING is about sex. It is something that men cannot go a week without and a reason for female circumcision to prevent women from going outside of the marriage. It is the pulsing life and death force of poverty here and it is as untamed as a bull with freshly agitated testicles. Women are expected to submit to their men's wishes for sex whenever and wherever it is requested; otherwise, they are held responsible for their men's wandering. Men are not held responsible for controlling their sexual desire at all. Women firmly believe that men are the heads of household and they are by God's election superior to women in decision making for the home (see Adam and Eve in Genesis). Girls are less likely to be educated than boys (especially if they are Muslims). The gender issues go on forever. I never have considered myself much of an avid feminist, but christ. Sometimes when we discuss gender issues in class I begin to feel as though I can't breathe.
Well, the two-dollar vodka is wearing off and it is 9:30 at night...a belated dinner awaits.
Issky Cool?
16 years ago
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