Friday, June 09, 2006

Please take a few minutes and read

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What a BIG Surprise

     It had been a good night sleep, unlike many nights before. Not too  hot; not too cold. Perfectly normal. I like normal. My only setback is, normal  no longer exists in my vocabulary. I had decided months ago that waking up  before 9AM is almost useless and quite simply uncalled for. Not is it only already hot by 8AM anyway, but the days go by a little faster when you sleep through them. 
    It was only half past 6AM when I heard the screams. "God damn kids," I said frustrated. They woke me from that perfect, normal sleep  I was having. "Malick, Malick....", one of many young girls said.  "Malick, Malick....Jegaa o puus took ndok of...O puus, jego!!!....Malick,  Malick!!!", they repeated over and over. Now Im not one to overreact when the little ones wake me before my mandatory-'Dont Wake Me Before 9AM' rule, especially to tell me that I have a bag on the roof of my hut. In Seereer, one  of the worlds front running dying languages, 'O Puus' means 'A Bag'. Literally they told me, "Paul, Paul...You have a bag on the roof of your hut. A bag you have." Now mulitply that by 90 and carry the 2. Thats how annoyed I was over this mystery bag. 
    Since I know from experience that ignoring them wont make them disappear and bribing them with chocolate and money is just plain idiotic, I decided to humor them instead and retrieve the damn bag. I figured  it'd only take two seconds to grab it, so why worry about putting on any clothes. (I was wearing boxers. If the ladies here are free to roam around topless, then by all means...) I picked up a stick so I could grab the bag with it. I climbed up to see where the mystery bag was, and what do I see- A damn baby crocodile!!! Only, it wasnt a crocodile but just a huge ass lizard. But what exactly is the difference? "Yup, Im pretty sure that big ass lizards and mystery bag are not the same word," I thought as I swung my BOOM stick at the creature.  (Turns out that 'o cuus' means 'a big lizard' in Seereer. I guess it wasnt one  of the questions on the top of my list during training. How do you say big #&%*ing lizard in Seereer, you know just in case?)
    Successfully, I pushed the little guy off my tropical  condo estate. My 9AM clause could have to wait until after I hunted me some  croc. I was determined. Not even noticing that I still had no clothes on, I  chased it into a little chicken house outside my hut. In went the lizard; out  came the chickens. Half naked, I instructed one of the kids to go get my  machete, my rope and a stick. The plan was to tie a noose in the rope, use the stick to place the noose around its neck, drag him out of the hen house and chop its head off with my man-knife. Well, that was the plan, but big ass  lizard was having none of that. I was tempted to just go in and Crocodile Dundee  the thing, but I cherish the fact I still have 10 fingers and 10 toes. God  knows what else could be bitten off, but Ill leave that to your  imagination.
    Finally I got the SOB around the neck and pulled him out to  the open. Of course, he got loose and started to flee. "Bullshit," I thought as  i picked up the machete and ran after the beast. I caught up with
him about 100 meters away and took my first swin. No luck. Took another. Nothing. You'd be surprised on how strong big #&%*ing lizard skin is. Looks like Id have to  beat the hell out of it instead. Yup, that worked! By that time all the neighbros came to see what was  going on. They sure didnt want anything to do with what was going on. The women stayed back; the grown men, even further. The gator was my kill, my prize, my  glory. So of course I did what any proud hunter does with his trophy, I showed it off. The best way to do that, chase people around the family compound with it. I can only imagine what the village elders had to say about the whole situation. "There goes that crazy white kid again. Running around in his underwear, chasing the women around, holding on to his big ass lizard." Ah, but little do they know. Punn intended :)
   It was going to be an interesting day. But it was still  before 9AM. So I did what any rational person would do in that situation. I  decided to take a nap. "Dont even think about waking me before lunch  time....zzzz....ZZZZ" 

Wednesday, June 07, 2006

Third World Driving Hints and Tips

Road Hazards
 
What would be a road hazard anywhere else, in the Third World is probably the road. ThEre are two techniques for coping with this. One is the drive very fast so your wheels 'get on top' of the ruts and your car sails over the ditches and gullies. Predictably, this will result in disaster. The other technique is to drive very slowly. This also results in disaster. No matter how slowly you drive into a ten-foot hole, you're still going to get hurt. You'll find the locals themselves can't make up their minds. Either they drive at 2 m.p.h.- which they do every time there's absolutely no way to get around them. Or else they drive &t 100 m.p.h.- which they do coming right at you when you finally get a chance to pass the guy going 2 m.p.h.
 
Basic Information
 
It's important to have your facts straight before you begin piloting a car around an underdeveloped country. For instance, which side of the road do they drive on? This is easy. They drive on your side! That is, you can depend on it, any oncoming traffic will be on your side of the road. Also, how do you translate kilometres into miles? Most people don't know this but one kilometre= ten miles, exactly. True, a kilometre is only 62 per cent of a mile, but if something is one hundred kilometres away, read that as one thousand miles because the roads are 620 per cent worse than anything you've ever seen. And when you see a 50-k.p.h. speed limit, you might as well figure that means 500 m.p.h. because nobody cares. The Third World does not have Broderick Crawford and the Highway Patrol. Outside the cities, it doesn't have many police at all. Law enforcement is in the hands of the army. And soldiers, if they feel like it, will shoot you no matter what speed you're going.
 
Traffic signs and signals
 
Mostdeveloping nations use international traffic symbols. Americans may find themselves perplexed by road signs that look like Boy Scout merit badges and by such things as an iguana silhouette with a red diagonal bar across it. Don't worry, the natives dont know what they mean either. The natives do, however, have an elaborate set of signals used to convey information to the traffic around them. For example, if you're trying to pass someone and he blinks his left signal, it means go ahead. Either that or it means a large truck is coming around the bend, and you'll get killed if you try. You'll find out in a moment. Signalling is further comlicated by festive decorations found on many vehicles. It can be hard to tell a hazard flasher from a string of Christmas-tree lights wrapped around the bumper, and brake lights can easily be confused with the dozen Jesus, and Muhammad, statuettes and the ten stuffed animals with blinking eyes on the package shelf.
 
Dangerous curves
 
Dangerous curves are marked, at least in Christian lands, by white wooden crosses positioned to make the curves even more dangerous. These crosses are memorials to people who've died in traffic accidents, and they give a rough statistical indication of how much trouble you're likely to have at that spot in the road. Thus, when you come through a curve in a full-power slide and are suddenly confronted with a veritable forest of crucufixes, you know you're dead.
 
Learning to drive like a native
 
Its important to understand that in the Third World most driving is done with the horn, or 'Egyptian Break Pedal' as it is known. There is a precise and complicated etiquette of horn use. Honk your horn only under the following circumstances:
 
1. When anything blocks the road.
2. When anything doesn't.
3. When anything might.
4. At red lights.
5. At green lights.
6. At all other times
 
Road-blocks
 
One thing you can count on in Third World countries is trouble. Theres always some uprising, coup, or Marxist insurrection going on, and this means military road-blocks. There are two kinds of military road-blocks, the kind where you slow down so they can look you over, and the kind where you come to a complete stop so they can steal your luggage. The important thing is that you must never stop at the slow-down kind of road-block. If you stop, they'll think you're a terrorist about to attack them, and they'll shoot you. And you must always stop at the full-stop kind of road-blocks. If you just slow down, they'll think you're a terrorist about to attack them, and they'll shoot you. How do you tell the difference between the two kinds of road-blocks? Here's the fun part: you can't! (The terrorists, of course, have road-blocks of their own. They always make you stop. Sometimes with land mines.)
 
Animals in the right of way
 
As a rule of thumb, you should slow down for donkeys, speed up for goats and stop for cows. Donkeys will get out of your way eventually, and so will pedestrians. But never actually stop for either of them or the'll take advantage, especially the pedestrians. If you stop in the middle of a crowd of Third World pedestrians, you'll be there buying Chiclets and bogus antiques for days.
 
Drive like hell through the goats. Its almost impossible to hit a goat. On the other hand, it's almost impossible not to hit a cow. Cows are immune to horn-honking, shouting, swats with sticks and taps on the hind quarters with the bumper. The only thing you can do to make a cow more is swerve to avoid it, which will make the cow move in front of you with lightning speed.
 
Actually, the most dangerous are the chickens. In the United States, when you see a ball roll into the street, you hit the breaks because you know the next thing youll see is a kid chasing it. In the Third World, its not balls the kids are chasing, but chickens. Third Worlders are remarkably fond of their chickens and, also, their children (population problems not withstanding). If you hit one or both, they may survive. But you will not.
 
Accidents
 
Never look where you're going- youll only scare yourself. Nonetheless, try to avoid collisions. There are bound to be more people in that bus, truck or even on that moped than there are in your car. At best youll be screamed deaf. And if the police do happen to be around, standard procedure is to throw everyone in jail regardless of fault. This is done to forestall blood feuds, which are a popular hobby in many of these places. Remember the American consul is very budy fretting about that Marxist insurrection, and it may be months before he comes to visit. If you do have an accident, the only thing to do is go on the offensive. Throw big wads of American money at everyone, and hope for the best.
 
Safety Tips
 
One nice thing about the Third World, you dont have to fasten your safety belt. (Or stop smoking. Or cut down on saturated fats.) It takes a lot off your mind when average life expectancy is forty-five minutes. -PJO

What a BIG Surprise

    It had been a good night sleep, unlike many nights before. Not too hot; not too cold. Perfectly normal. I like normal. My only setback is, normal no longer exists in my vocabulary. I had decided months ago that waking up before 9AM is almost useless and quite simply uncalled for. Not is it only already hot by 8AM anyway, but the days go by a little faster when you sleep through them.
 
    It was only half past 6AM when I heard the screams. "God damn kids," I said frustrated. They woke me from that perfect, normal sleep I was having. "Malick, Malick....", one of many young girls said. "Malick, Malick....Jegaa o puus took ndok of...O puus, jego!!!....Malick, Malick!!!", they repeated over and over. Now Im not one to overreact when the little ones wake me before my mandatory-'Dont Wake Me Before 9AM' rule, especially to tell me that I have a bag on the roof of my hut. In Seereer, one of the worlds front running dying languages, 'O Puus' means 'A Bag'. Literally they told me, "Paul, Paul...You have a bag on the roof of your hut. A bag you have." Now mulitply that by 90 and carry the 2. Thats how annoyed I was over this mystery bag. 
 
    Since I know from experience that ignoring them wont make them disappear and bribing them with chocolate and money is just plain idiotic, I decided to humor them instead and retrieve the damn bag. I figured it'd only take two seconds to grab it, so why worry about putting on any clothes. (I was wearing boxers. If the ladies here are free to roam around topless, then by all means...)
 
    I picked up a stick so I could grab the bag with it. I climbed up to see where the mystery bag was, and what do I see- A damn baby crocodile!!! Only, it wasnt a crocodile but just a huge ass lizard. But what exactly is the difference? "Yup, Im pretty sure that big ass lizards and mystery bag are not the same word," I thought as I swung my BOOM stick at the creature. (Turns out that 'o cuus' means 'a big lizard' in Seereer. I guess it wasnt one of the questions on the top of my list during training. How do you say big #&%*ing lizard in Seereer, you know just in case?)
 
    Successfully, I pushed the little guy off my tropical condo estate. My 9AM clause could have to wait until after I hunted me some croc. I was determined.
 
    Not even noticing that I still had no clothes on, I chased it into a little chicken house outside my hut. In went the lizard; out came the chickens. Half naked, I instructed one of the kids to go get my machete, my rope and a stick. The plan was to tie a noose in the rope, use the stick to place the noose around its neck, drag him out of the hen house and chop its head off withmy man-knife. Well, that was the plan, but big ass lizard was having none of that. I was tempted to just go in and Crocodile Dundee the thing, but I cherish the fact I still have 10 fingers and 10 toes. God knows what else could be bitten off, but Ill leave that to your imagination. Finally I got the SOB around the neck and pulled him out to the open. Of course, he got loose and started to flrr. "Bullshit," I thought as i picked up the machete and ran after the beast. I caught up with him about 100 meters away and took my first swin. No luck. Took another. Nothing. You'd be surprised on how strong big #&%*ing lizard skin is. Looks like Id have to beat the hell out of it instead. Yup, that worked!  
 
    By that time all the neighbros came to see what was going on. They sure didnt want anything to do with what was goin g on. The women stayed back; the grown men, even further. The gator was my kill, my prize, my glory. So of course I did what any proud hunter does with his trophy, I showed it off. The best way to do that, chase people around the family compound with it. I can only imagine what the village elders had to say about the whole situation. "There goes that crazy white kid again. Running around in his underwear, chasing the women around, holding on to his big ass lizard." Ah, but little do they know. Punn intended :)  
 
    It was going to be an interesting day. But it was still before 9AM. So I did what any rational person would do in that situation. I decided to take a nap. "Dont even think about waking me before lunch time....zzzz....ZZZZ"    
 
 

Do You Know What Time it is?

    Senegalese time is a concept that Im just now getting use to. Life in America is very fast compared to time here. In the morning it takes me 45 minutes to an hour to greet everyone. Of course greetings are the most important part of this society. The great part about it is that all the greetings are the same to everyone, everyday, everytime. Imagine a broken record saying, "Good morning. How's the family? Did you sleep well?....Good morning. How's the family? Did you sleep well?....Good morning. etc..." Not a whole lot to think about. Its all part of the routine.
 
    After making my presence known to the village, I try to retreat to my room for the hot part of the day (of course this is from sun-up to sun-down). This is where the fun begins. On an ordinary day, I spend about an hour just looking at my wall. Its not like its a special wall or even a pretty looking wall. im usually bored. After that I read M-Q in Websters dictionary. Its a good life. The rainy season is still two months away so Im just basically useless right now. Ive run out of ideas to keep myself busy. Time flies when you're having fun, right?
 
    Time for the villagers is kind of the same except that they stay busy all day, sleeping and drink tea. Must be hard! A typical conversation I have with my brother sounds a little like this....
 
ME: "Babacar, Good morning. How's the family? Did you sleep well?"
 
BABACAR: "Malick, the family's good. I didnt sleep too well last night."
 
ME: "Maybe you would sleep better at night if you didnt nap all day. Drinking tea probably doesnt help either."  
 
BABACAR: "Yeah, I know."
 
ME: "so, are you going to work today?"
 
BABACAR: "No, not until maybe Thursday."
 
ME: "Thursday huh? Today is Friday. What are you going to do until then?"
 
BABACAR: "Im going to sit. I might make tea. But Im going to sit."
 
ME: "You're going to sit. Is that all?"
 
BABACAR: "yah, Im going to sit. I ,might make tea. But Im going to sit."
 
ME: "Sounds fun, Babacar. Enjoy sitting."
 
    I dont blame them for their lack of motivation. If there's no money to be made, theres no incentive to really do anything. Though I do have to say that America takes pride on their organizational skills and their obsessions about being on time. The Senegalese take pride of their all day celebrations. For example, another typical conversation I have with my brother sounds like this:
 
ME: "Babacar, Good morning. How's the family? Did you sleep well?"
 
BABACAR: "Malick, the familys okay but we dont have any money. Can I have some money to buy tea?"
 
ME: "No, but Ive been working on a plan here for two days about bringing more work into the village. Id like to have a meeting with the village tomorrow and see what they think."
 
BABACAR: " But there's a baptism tomorrow. We're going to kill a goat and everything. We'll party all day."
 
ME: "Thats okay. I only need to talk for 5 or 10 minutes."
 
BABACAR: "But theres a baptism tomorrow."
 
ME: "well, what about the day after?"
 
BABACAR: "YOu know Fatou's daughter's friend of a friend Ahmed Ndiaye?"
 
ME: "Yeah, he's from two villages over, right? Why?"
 
BABACAR: "He died last night. After the funeral there's another baptism."
 
ME: "I GIVE UP!!!!"