I really do not want to shower right now. I need to - desperately - as there is no way I can go to bed this dusty. But I'm having so much trouble convincing myself to face the shower.
To begin with, I'm dreading the cold water. Cold showers feel amazing in the middle of the day or when you've just come home from the bush taxi and you're over-heated and sweaty and just gross. They don't feel so good after the sun's gone down. I try as often as I can to shower when the cold water is a pro, but sometimes it's just not possible.
Tonight is one of those nights. I may be able to convince myself that the cold water isn't such a dreadful thing (you do adjust after the initial shock, after all), but I'm also very tired and not looking forward to shower aerobics.
The shower head is a sort of wand which is attached to a hose. The hose is about four inches to short for me to stand under. Or at least, it used to be. Our shower head broke and now we're left with the hose. So, washing my hair and anywhere above my shoulders requires a bit of work.
Showering is also very frustrating because it's very difficult (if not impossible) to get entirely clean. It's dusty and sandy here and the dusty sand seems to cling on to you, no matter how hard you scrub. It's very disconcerting and a little depressing as your scrubbing clean-looking feet to see that the soap suds gliding toward the drain are decidedly brown in color.
The good news is that the water pressure is always much better at night and I don't have to worry about not having enough pressure to rinse the shampoo out of my hair. The power has stayed on tonight so I won't have to shower by candle or flashlight. And the two girls who share my shower have already showered, so I'm free to shower whenever I can finally convince myself to stop putting it off.
All in all, I'm pretty lucky with my showering situation. The water pressure is so bad at my Swedish friend's house that some days there simply isn't enough to shower at all (on those days, he showers over here). And I only have to share my shower with two other girls as opposed to a whole floor (or a whole compound, which I suppose is the Gambian equivalent).
Even so, I'd give a lot to be able to have a hot standing up shower with real body wash and not the bubble bath I accidentally bought because the bottle was in Arabic and I couldn't understand it. Ah, well, imagine how much I'll appreciate my first shower back in America.
For tonight, I'll just savor the feeling of cleanliness. Until tomorrow when it's time to hit the (dusty) road.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
The Companion's Burden
Rudyard Kipling's "The White Man's Burden" is a beautifully written poem urging the United States to take over the Philippines, to assume their duty and bring the Philippines into the modern world. Although a racist poem, Kipling elegantly instills feelings of pride and honor about taking up a noble yet unrewarding task.
It's a poem used in history and politics classes to illustrate the mood and view of Europeans about colonization, which is essentially that the non-European peoples were not civilized and were incapable of existing in a modern world and it was Europe's moral obligation to help them along. We discussed it in our human rights class at the University of The Gambia.
"The White Man's Burden" was written in a different time for a very specific situation, but it has not lost its relevance even today. Today we speak in more politically correct terms, eschewing terms like "first world" and "third world" for the less egocentric "developed nations" and "developing nations." And we no longer assume that the reason for a country's developing or developed status is the color of its people's skin. But read through the poem again, replacing "White Man" with "Westerner," and the poem could speak for any number of aid efforts.
The IMF and the World Bank, various human rights groups, aid efforts like Live8 and an innumerable amount of NGO's, all \ are attempts by the West to develop Africa, to save it, to help its people progress enough to fully and fairly participate in today's modern globalized economy and world system. These efforts are sincere and earnest. We must help them not for our own gain, but because it is the right thing to do. However, sincere and earnest the efforts may be, there is still a sense that we, the West, must help poor Africa because they cannot help themselves.
Without a doubt, there are things that the West can offer Africa. But any help or assistance, be it in the form of monetary aid, equipment, training, human rights work or whatever, needs to be offered not from a benevolent giver, not from a wise mentor, not from a self-sacrificing teacher, but from an equal to an equal.
This is not an easy thing to do. It's easy to assume the role of the wise mentor, imparting wisdom and gently guiding Africa toward civil peace and economic prosperity. It's also easy to take on the role of admiring sycophant, extolling the virtues of communal living and extended-family based society.
What is difficult to do is to strike a balance. There are values the West can offer to Africa and there are values Africa can offer to the West. The trick is to appreciate and criticize each other's cultures as colleagues, rather than inferiors and superiors.
I can and should criticize the subordinate status of women in African society, and my Gambian peers can and should criticize the harsh individualism of American society which allows so many people to fall through the cracks. The value of any cross-cultural experience is being to view your own culture with new eyes, cherishing its strengths and working to improve its flaws.
I'll end this post with a slightly edited stanza of Kipling's poem. Viewed in the context of equality, it strikes an even more poignant note.
Take up the companion's burden--
Have done with childish days--
The lightly proferred laurel,
The easy, ungrudged praise.
Comes now, to search your manhood
Through all the thankless years
Cold, edged with dear-bought wisdom,
The judgment of your peers!
It's a poem used in history and politics classes to illustrate the mood and view of Europeans about colonization, which is essentially that the non-European peoples were not civilized and were incapable of existing in a modern world and it was Europe's moral obligation to help them along. We discussed it in our human rights class at the University of The Gambia.
"The White Man's Burden" was written in a different time for a very specific situation, but it has not lost its relevance even today. Today we speak in more politically correct terms, eschewing terms like "first world" and "third world" for the less egocentric "developed nations" and "developing nations." And we no longer assume that the reason for a country's developing or developed status is the color of its people's skin. But read through the poem again, replacing "White Man" with "Westerner," and the poem could speak for any number of aid efforts.
The IMF and the World Bank, various human rights groups, aid efforts like Live8 and an innumerable amount of NGO's, all \ are attempts by the West to develop Africa, to save it, to help its people progress enough to fully and fairly participate in today's modern globalized economy and world system. These efforts are sincere and earnest. We must help them not for our own gain, but because it is the right thing to do. However, sincere and earnest the efforts may be, there is still a sense that we, the West, must help poor Africa because they cannot help themselves.
Without a doubt, there are things that the West can offer Africa. But any help or assistance, be it in the form of monetary aid, equipment, training, human rights work or whatever, needs to be offered not from a benevolent giver, not from a wise mentor, not from a self-sacrificing teacher, but from an equal to an equal.
This is not an easy thing to do. It's easy to assume the role of the wise mentor, imparting wisdom and gently guiding Africa toward civil peace and economic prosperity. It's also easy to take on the role of admiring sycophant, extolling the virtues of communal living and extended-family based society.
What is difficult to do is to strike a balance. There are values the West can offer to Africa and there are values Africa can offer to the West. The trick is to appreciate and criticize each other's cultures as colleagues, rather than inferiors and superiors.
I can and should criticize the subordinate status of women in African society, and my Gambian peers can and should criticize the harsh individualism of American society which allows so many people to fall through the cracks. The value of any cross-cultural experience is being to view your own culture with new eyes, cherishing its strengths and working to improve its flaws.
I'll end this post with a slightly edited stanza of Kipling's poem. Viewed in the context of equality, it strikes an even more poignant note.
Take up the companion's burden--
Have done with childish days--
The lightly proferred laurel,
The easy, ungrudged praise.
Comes now, to search your manhood
Through all the thankless years
Cold, edged with dear-bought wisdom,
The judgment of your peers!
Monday, March 1, 2010
Tower of Babel
I've had a love affair with English since before I could talk. I love finding just the right word to describe something. I love that you can change the pattern and cadence of a sentence to convey different mood and feelings. I love that the rhythm and taste of words can be beautiful and their meaning wondrous.
However, I have found English to be a jealous lover and there seems to be no room in my heart or my head for any other language. I tried repeatedly to cram Spanish in and accomplished very little. I did manage to have some minor success with American Sign Language, but other than that nothing seems to stick.
In The Gambia, everyone is multilingual. The official language is English, but most people speak at a minimum two tribal languages and usually more. There was an add in the paper for a mobile phone salesgirl. Among other requirements, the applicants had to be fluent in English and at least two local languages.
The majority of people in The Gambia are Mandinka but many speak Wolof as well. Wolof is the more prevalent language in Senegal one of The Gambia's major trading partners, so it has become the language of commerce. Fula and Jola are also common languages in the greater Banjul area.
As part of our study abroad program, we've being taking Wolof lessons. From my trip I took to The Gambia this past summer, I have a few (that is to say three) Mandinka greetings under my belt.
It's incredible how powerful even these rudimentary bits of language can be. The children are especially tickled. When they shout "Toubab! Toubab!" after us and we respond in Wolof or Mandinka, it's almost as if a dog had begun talking to them. Some of the older kids will laugh at our accents and some of the very little ones stare almost frightened at us.
Shop keepers, taxi drivers and passersby are so excited to hear a toubab speaking a local language. It's like Christmas has come early. I feel like a thief a few minutes later when they find out that beyond inquiring after the health of their family and thanking them, I can't say or understand much else.
I've had varying responses to my bumbling attempts at Wolof. An old Muslim man lectured me that if I was going to live in another country, I should already know the language. A friendly taxi driver taught me how to say "I have a husband." A security guard drinking attaya (green tea) told me I should be learning Mandinka instead.
I would love to be able to fully grasp even just one local language. It's frustrating to realize that even the little bit that I do learn is pretty much useless outside of Senegambia. Guess that means I'll just have to come back someday...
However, I have found English to be a jealous lover and there seems to be no room in my heart or my head for any other language. I tried repeatedly to cram Spanish in and accomplished very little. I did manage to have some minor success with American Sign Language, but other than that nothing seems to stick.
In The Gambia, everyone is multilingual. The official language is English, but most people speak at a minimum two tribal languages and usually more. There was an add in the paper for a mobile phone salesgirl. Among other requirements, the applicants had to be fluent in English and at least two local languages.
The majority of people in The Gambia are Mandinka but many speak Wolof as well. Wolof is the more prevalent language in Senegal one of The Gambia's major trading partners, so it has become the language of commerce. Fula and Jola are also common languages in the greater Banjul area.
As part of our study abroad program, we've being taking Wolof lessons. From my trip I took to The Gambia this past summer, I have a few (that is to say three) Mandinka greetings under my belt.
It's incredible how powerful even these rudimentary bits of language can be. The children are especially tickled. When they shout "Toubab! Toubab!" after us and we respond in Wolof or Mandinka, it's almost as if a dog had begun talking to them. Some of the older kids will laugh at our accents and some of the very little ones stare almost frightened at us.
Shop keepers, taxi drivers and passersby are so excited to hear a toubab speaking a local language. It's like Christmas has come early. I feel like a thief a few minutes later when they find out that beyond inquiring after the health of their family and thanking them, I can't say or understand much else.
I've had varying responses to my bumbling attempts at Wolof. An old Muslim man lectured me that if I was going to live in another country, I should already know the language. A friendly taxi driver taught me how to say "I have a husband." A security guard drinking attaya (green tea) told me I should be learning Mandinka instead.
I would love to be able to fully grasp even just one local language. It's frustrating to realize that even the little bit that I do learn is pretty much useless outside of Senegambia. Guess that means I'll just have to come back someday...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)