Bush Existentialism

Language is the manifestation of a culture. Everyone has heard that language is 'alive', 'growing', or 'adapting' - an entity that is dynamic and evolving with the years. George Orwell understood this and made it a central theme in "1984" - ingsoc, doublethink and newspeak were invented to reduce the language to concise, specific words, limiting the ability to think about abstract concepts by erasing the means to express them. To find what a people hold dear, simply look at their most important adages or, maybe even more importantly, their most important curses. We've all heard how Inuits have '(insert-number-here)' words for 'snow' and then again just as many for 'ice'. When their lives depend on knowing the exact state of their environment, these are not just vital words, but extensions of their awareness they depend on for survival. For all of us coming from the Western world, its a bit harder to come up with ethno-centric terms, but they are there. I have searched through every other romance language plus Arabic and a few African tongues, and there is no direct translation for 'jilting'. Now what does it say about us as a people when we have a word for leaving someone at the altar when no one else does? Arabic has over 600 words for both 'sword' and 'god'. The Dutch have 'zwafflen', which I will not translate for the public, but, believe me, is absolutely side splitting and 'gezellig', the feeling of 'pigs in a pen' - cozy. The land of windmills and legal prostitution lacks, oddly enough, a word for 'sibling'. Portuguese, by far the winner of sexiest language on the face of the planet, has so many sex-based words I wish I had been born Brazilian - one of striking sweetness - 'Cafuné' - to run your hands tenderly through someones hair - and another of a special longing for something real or imagined - 'Saudade', a word that permeates the lives of Cape Verdeans. Think of the stolen words - 'siesta' and 'deja vu' - we know what they mean, but they both must be explained - a mid-day nap, for the Spaniards, and the feeling of having already lived through something, from the French. The Frenchies bring many fun ones to the table - 'tutoyer' - to eye someone scornfully, or (and this one is true for many countries) 'beeper' - to call someone and let it ring once then hang up so they call you back. Just to let you know, I LOATHE it when people beep me. HATE IT.

So where am I leading you this time around? We're going to jump over to Ewe, the local language here in the south that stretches from Benin to Ghana. Ewe, like many indigenous languages has a few quirks about it that we westerners find odd - there are no verb conjugations and only a few proper tenses - in Ewe you can eat something (present and past at the same time) - "me du nu", you can be eating something (present progressive) - "me le du nu", and, by using 'to go' to bridge the gap - I am going to eat - "me dza du nu". Now, if you've been following what I've been laying out for you here the past few months, you'll remember how the perception of time here is stretched quite far here - I'm guessing that is, in a large part, because of the constructs of the language. I'm over-simplifying when I say this (though not by much), but the common ways of expressing time are summed up in two words in Ewe - 'today' (egbe) and 'not today' (Etso) - meaning both 'yesterday' and 'tomorrow'. Now, of course, there are ways to express long periods of time, but it is important to point out that the most fundamental and common units of time are 'today' and 'everything else'. Think about that - In a place where there are only two seasons - dry and wet, one temperature and a lack of time-telling constructs in the language, how are we to bring about lasting change? Words like long-term become laughable when people focus only on eating today and leaving everything else until etso. How do you convince a horny 20 year old to choose between buying food or condoms, when hunger is real and now and AIDS is something that could kill you etso? How do you change long-held beliefs on the treatment of women and children, growing crops, or saving money when this is way things have always been done and you are just a happy-go-lucky baby-huggin yovo who is here egbe and gone etso?

I don't know, folks, I really don't know. There is, however, no word for 'boredom' in Ewe, nor is there much of a distinct difference between 'work' and 'living'. On top of that, there are lots of words for 'happy'. Maybe that should tell us something...

Ma Petite Raison d'Etre

I drank a mojito today for lunch. It cost me 4mil (4000CFA). Thats 8 dollars. I walked into the most expensive bar in Lome and spent 8 dollars on rum and mint and limes. Normally I spend 500 francs on food for the entire day. And that, my friends is the contradiction of my job. Yesterday I got in a shouting match with two taxi drivers because they tried to charge me 50 cents too much and today I spent a weeks worth of pay on a cocktail. At lunch. No, instead of lunch. Part of me says I should feel guilty for doing this in Togo, one of the poorest countries in the world, where a normal wage is 28,000CFA a month ($60). Its the same part of me I tricked into believing that I joined the Peace Corps to do some good in the world. To help people. To ease suffering and have a purpose to my life. Now, however, I'm pretty sure that I joined the Peace Corps because I had nothing better to do and was terrified of the real world. How do I know this?

Because the other part of me sat there and ordered a second one. And I don't feel guilty at all.

The 3 People You Meet in Hell

Just another day

Einstein is credited with summing up the theory of relativity in one succinct analogy - “Put your hand on a hot stove for a minute, and it seems like an hour. Sit with a pretty girl for an hour, and it seems like a minute. THAT'S relativity.” This has come to light here in Togo in broader ways that I first noticed. Not that I've been running around high fiving grills or chasing skirts relentlessly (although I never said I didnt WANT to chase a skirt...c'mon universe, throw me a damn bone here), but time seems to have taken on a different personality here. There are times, sitting at home, having already paced the path from my kitchen to the living room to the porch, sweeping neurotically along the way, that I start planning the rest of my day just to waste daylight hours so I can make it to dinner. Other days, days filled with beaches and travelling and laughter slide by much too quickly. Like a broken accordion, the temporal standards here move in and out, incredibly slow periods seeming like nothing in retrospect.

Any where I've travelled that is A) Tropical(ish) and B) Generally poor, where the local folks yearn for something more have two things in common – 1) They're big into Che Guevara Tshirts and Bob Marley music and 2) they all have a relaxed view of time. Things here a different from what we are used to. Folks here run on a dearth of stimuli. Sitting is important here. Talking – about nothing in particular – is something like an art form. Being quiet takes a precedence as the sun falls. Things take (you guessed it), time. Little things – taking showers, 2 hour taxi rides that are only that long in theory, meals, washing or drying clothes. The meeting you set at 3pm wont start until 4:30 because people were 'busy'. L'heure Africain predominates just about every single interaction or transaction you decide to attempt. So, coming from the western world, where not looking at a clock or a mirror for more than 5 minute spans can induce fits of rage and spasms, it is easy for me to tell you who holds all of the power here – those that control your time. These 3 groups of fine gentlemen (and women) can have your balls in a vice within the blink of an eye – (the corollary to this being they are the happiest groups here) -

1. Government officials – Ever been cruising down the interstate, listening to your favorite David Hasselhoff mixed tape, just to have some jerk-off in a beamer come tearing around you going 30 over, chucking burger wrappers out the window, nearly running you off the road? And you start to cuss, and I know what you are thinking – damn broads – but no, wait, is that a Government tag there? You'd bet your bottom dollar on it – So imagine that scene here, only (now stay with me) you are walking, with 22 lbs of yams on your head and a baby strapped to your back, on your 3^rd of 6 miles from village and that jerk-off is just the same except overfed, overpaid, and driving one of the ONLY beamers in country. Welcome to West Africa – where your perceived power is directly proportional to how incredibly overweight you are and where your actual power is indirectly proportional to how long you routinely force the populous to wait to fill out even the most mundane of paperwork - “My, my, govn'uh, you're looking splendid today! Are those new pants? You had to buy larger ones, yeah? My you've gained quite a lot of....wealth. Whats that? I need to sit down over here? But all I need is a form. No, the one right there – beside your hand. I mean, I can see it. Look, its not like you even have to really do anything. Just grab it for me. No, little more to the left, little more, no, too far, YES, thats the one. What? You need to get permission to give it to me? But there's like, a hundred of them just laying there.” The DMV is a playground compared to any governmental office here.

2. Gendarmes – Police. Keeping the population safe and secure by harassing whitey and fleecing taxi drivers. I must have missed the part in school where they teach you that a cold-war era rusting AK-47 slung backwards over your shoulder is your be-a-total-dick-to-anyone-you-please card. Believe me, gendarmes here go from 6 to midnight when they see a taxi full of yovos coming their way (If I have to explain it, you don't need to know what it means). “Whats that driver? You have 2 yovos in the back there? Well then I'm sure God has blessed you and you can bribe me with an even larger sum today than you did yesterday for me to not fine you for this... um... *crack* broken taillight here.” I have had a truck full of gendarmes come to a screeching stop in front of me as I was waiting to cross the road to ask me for my papers. ...TO ASK ME FOR MY FUCKING PAPERS - what is this, East Germany? Who the hell asks for papers anymore? Am I gun-running in the easter-bloc? “I'm very aware that my sloping brow and protruding lower jaw give me the air of the common criminal, but my fine sir, I'm doing nothing but standing on the side of the road. Yes, thank you for informing me that there is no common indicator of a criminal mind and that you must be vigilant. No, actually, I don't have my passport on me. Um, well sir I wasn't aware this was a police-state. Sir, you do see that there's like 5 other people standing around me, right? Yes, I'm sure this is a completely random stop. The way you swerved and left tire tracks as you braked was a sure-fire indicator of that. Where do I come from? I'm American. No, I'm not French. Oh, so you don't need to fine me now? You know, for standing? On a sidewalk? Oh, ok, well, yeah, see you later, boss.”

We May Never Know...

3. Bank tellers – The cream of the crop, the brightest bulb in the pack, the top of their class, and by far the largest tools of any shed I know of, the lowly bank teller that normally greets you with a smile and asks about your kids in the states regards you with nothing more than the most vehement of disdain here. My eyes were truly opened to this when I began to question why I was always bringing a Russian novel with me whenever I needed to go banking.

Dostoyevsky comes highly recommended

Anyone out there remember The Soup Nazi from Seinfeld? Yeah, Imagine that, except instead of getting kicked out, you're never able to leave. You'll be forced to live in a waiting-room hell. They know you need your money. They know they have you. Did their favorite soccer team lose last night? Heaven have mercy on you, my child – you won't make it out before dark. And heaven forbid you ask for them to give you some small bills instead of 10mil notes – imagine paying for bubble gum with a $100 bill in the states – do you know how useful a 10mil note is here? You might as well try and buy a steak dinner with your vintage PEZ dispenser collection – ITS ONLY WORTH SOMETHING IN THEORY. There's also a good chance you are standing in the wrong line. Sure, its the same line you've always stood in, but you know what? Its the wrong one. “No sir, just go down there *points* and they'll take care of it. *Looks to the left* Down there? Down where? Ma'am, all you did was vaguely motion to the left. Down there, sir. They'll help you. *Looks again* Yeah, look, you just pointed at Benin, could you give me a little more to go on than that?”

You wanna know the redeeming factor in all this? I saw a gendarme standing in a line at the bank the other day. Yeah, eat it.