Welcome to My World

So Butters is back.  He brought with him the rainy season and great power and water, so I’ve decided to keep him.  At least until we move again – at which point I may be sharing with a newly-hired service worker in the area or... something.  I’m on a need-to-know basis.  I think all of us are, really – it’s a regional hazard. 

Work is going... fairly well, aside from a few differences in opinion surrounding teamwork and efficiency.  I’m noting a few difficulties in reporting from the field, and I find myself wondering if I’d be any more consistent if I hadn’t had water in days and my hair was still smouldering from dinner.  Combined with cell phone connections from the Paleozoic era, it’s no wonder we’ve had to strive to attain cohesive monthly reports.    

My most recent project was to create questionnaires to assess baseline levels of prejudice/stigmatization of vulnerable populations within a community.  As many of the issues surrounded the safety and security of women, it was difficult to remain neutral.  Here are a few options I discarded after some contemplation and prayer:

Do you think sex- and gender-based violence (SGBV) is a problem in the DRC?

   a)  Yes

   b)  I need this question translated into grunts

There are many factors that may prevent an individual from seeking appropriate counselling or mental health support for trauma.  In your community, is each of the following a big problem (1) or not a big problem (0):

   a)  Seeking permission

   b)  Associated stigma

   c)  Transport

   d)  Cost  

   e)  No one actually gives a flying fudgesicle

   f)  I want to choose e), but feel this would result in less money for me/my community; I really need money; just give me money, for the love of all that is holy  

Swahili lessons are still going swimmingly – my language exchange partner (henceforth N2O, though I desperately wanted to call her Vache Qui Rit) is now also my coach and stylist.  Once, when an undone button took my shirt a little too low for her comfort, she tried to break it to me gently:  “You’re already yellow.  Your chest is really yellow, so my eyes are drawn there.”

On the other hand, I now know how to say When you get married, he will give your family five cows in Swahili, so something good came out of that day.

She still laughs at nearly everything I say or do, regardless of whether it`s correct or not, which makes it hard to tell the difference.  I think this is a cultural characteristic, so I`m trying to get used to it.  For example, after some careful questioning, I discovered that Non, merci is a polite, acceptable French phrase.

“They laugh at me when I say Non, merci!”

“HAHAHA!”

“So... I can’t say Non, merci?”

“HAHAHA!”

“But can I say it, though.”

“Yes.”

It turns out that vendors and bus conductors are not always well-versed in French and it sounds funny to them that I would refuse and thank them at the same time. 

So they laugh at me.

N2O had a funny mental image of me being confused when people on the street laughed at me.  

So she laughed at me.

Silly me, I thought this meant that the phrase I was saying in a language not my own was incorrect.

Another occasion was with Pastor’s wife.

“I hate bugali.”

“HAHAHA!”

“So... it’s not bugali?”

“HAHAHA!”

God, grant me strength.  “Can I use this word?”

“Yes.”

It turns out that ugali is the Tanzanian (correct) Swahili word for foufou.  However, in this city, they do use bugali to mean the same thing.

So why...  Never mind.  Just never mind.

 French, as usual, is lagging behind – I’ve weaned myself down to two lessons a week and am halfheartedly memorizing fifty common French verbs in fourteen tenses...

...Yeah, it’s going about as well as you imagine.

This was reflected when my French teacher, intent upon teaching me sentence deconstruction (apposition, complément d’objet direct/indirect, group circonstanciel de lieu/temps, etc.) promised that if I given such an abominable response during Belgian colonialism, I would’ve received eight lashes with the chicotte (whip made of hippopotamus hide used to terrorize Congolese circa the good old days, evidently).  As I wouldn’t know how to deconstruct an English sentence with appropriate nomenclature - despite having a fairly good grasp of grammar - I find this an unfair exercise, but he maintains that it is vital to speaking French fluently.

In the meantime, I frantically blather complément, indirect, circonstanciel, lieu, epithet, base, group sujet, temps whenever he looks at me expectantly because all of these terms are interchangeable and mean nothing to me. 

I think he recognises this, but hopes to bring me in line with threats of a difficult exam.  I’m not sure he fully accepts that I’m in my late 20s and the only way to make me care about an exam at this point would be to bring a chicotte to class.

Actually, this is a lie – I like acing exams.  Urine and blood tests are a nightmare because I never know how well I’ve done.  

[Update:  The exam has been changed to writing a summary of a 19-page chapter of John Calvin's Institutes of the Christian Religion - written in 1536 and likely translated into French by an wizened smilodon who majored in Chaucerian Spelling at the University of Sid the Sloth.]

A highlight of the week has been a moto ride with BFG – his usual date is his wife, but as she’s away, I got to play!  The nighttime ride home from our Bible study on what can only be called a road due to placement was a little more exciting than I’d expected due to rocks and unexpected bumps.  One quick start made my foot snap up in reflex and my brain stem prepare for flight.  I’ve had a bump on a motorbike before, but this would have been literally me flying off the back end while BFG continued home, possible whistling a little ditty for having substantially improved my day. 

(Totally worth it.)      

Riding behind someone I know and trust reminded me how thankful I am to my friends and family in Korea, India, and Canada - past, present, and future - for keeping me safe and joyful with you (even when I tried to convince you to let me ride without a helmet)!