I'm not going to talk a lot about the current Commander in Chief on here, because, well... I don't talk about him much in life. But his asinine comment got me thinking about two things. First off, Haiti & Africa, since these are the countries in which he was referring. Now, you know how when you just think something is cool and that's just how you feel? It's just part of who you are. It doesn't mean you agree with how things came about being that way or that in some way you are giving your approval for that thing to be cool, or at least I hope no one's doing that. That's how I feel with the pairing of France and Africans. It's not a nice story how all of that came to be and it doesn't mean anyone who is African and speaks French needs my approval on anything or that African people who don't speak French are any less cool. But as far as something unique and pretty coming from something as terrible as colonization, then the French accent is the top of that list. (Disregarding if these people lost their own native languages, because that is sad, but that's also not the point.) The point really is that I am used to people of African descent speaking a certain way, which is that of the American South. It's what I'm used to, so in first context it seems "normal", familiar basically. However, it is strange for me to hear people of African descent with a Northern accent, or that of a Western, or generalized American accent. But, it's weird for me to hear white people with these accents. They aren't accents that I'm used to. More jarring to my senses (but in an awesome way) are people of African descent, or Indian or Bengali descent, etc. speaking with a British accent. It's more unusual and out of my ordinary life, than white people speaking in British accents. However, and my point is, that hearing an African person (or person of African descent) with a French accent sounds more familiar and "normal" than that of a person with accent haling from the American South. So, though I love the French accent, especially coming from people who are not your typical white French person, and the island of Haiti is said to be lovely, or various places along Coat d'Ivoire... I don't think of these places as "shitholes", nor do I think of them as the degrading "third world". I'd love to visit, but I'm a little unnerved by their magic. That's right. I said it. I believe in magic and I believe that Africans that preform magic and Haitians that preform magic really are preforming magic. I have a great awe and respect for it, and it's not something I want to be immersed in, nor participate in. There is apparently some people from Haiti wanting some of Trumps hair. I can not confirm this as it's just something I heard. It also doesn't mean that every person in Haiti believes in magic or preforms magic, but there really not going to deny that they are very magical people. So, what if I did the wrong thing, unintentionally of course? I wouldn't want to upset someone with that type of magic. As far as Africa goes, it's the magic and also the large creatures that might eat me. Hell, I'm afraid of Kangaroos (I know that's Australia) and horses make me nervous, but if I don't want to see a Kangaroo in the wild, then you can bet that I do not want to see Giraffes, or Hippos, or Crocodiles, or Rhino's, or any type of primate or big cat up close. But just because I'm nervous to visit these countries (because of magic and animals, I might add), does that mean that I think they are "shithole" countries? Absolutely not. Any place that might have civil unrest is saddening, but it's not like the US is perfect in these regards. So, I'm sad for the safety and health of people in these countries, if they are in fact in a country/city where things actually are unsafe. Because not all stories are true (not because I'm a fake news believer, but some people will try to tell you places are horrible and dangerous when they actually are not, to get you to be afraid of particular countries in Africa or South America or the Middle East. Or they blow the stories out of proportion.) Which leads me into my second point which is Mexico. And who doesn't love to hate on Mexico, right? (Ya know, if you're one of those people). So, in my early twenties I had the opportunity to go to Mexico. I was slightly hesitant at first because we'd be in the desert and I really figured that I was not a desert person and would hate the climate. But, I quickly decided on going because I may not have another chance to go, because it's not easy for me to gain traveling funds. So, my sister and I registered to go. It was a mission trip through our childhood church; a Catholic church. I was told we were going to a city that really need A LOT of help and to neighbouring villages. So, Saltillo, Mexico. Which the church basically said it was a "shithole" in an eloquent way. Sure, I can dig helping out other people. Only thing is... we never did end up anywhere that needed saviors to charge in and rescue them. Saltillo actually seemed really, really lovely, except for me confusing my Spanish and asking "How much am I?" to a group of men, instead of "How much is this?" on our shopping day. That was humiliating. The only people to not think that we'd landed in some god-forsaken cess pit were the two Europeans, a Spaniard and a Pole, and then myself and The Sister. On our shopping day, the Spaniard and The Sister and I ate in the town, off the menu or this cute tiny place to eat, where everyone else was all aghast about it. Sure we ate pizza, but we had them prepare it the way they eat it, which was no pizza sauce and you know what? It was the best pizza either of us had ever eaten. And I'm a smoker and there was this random guy celling cigarettes. I'd always loved that idea from old films, to be able to just purchase one cigarette. So, I went up to him and purchased a cigarette from him; not only for the experience of doing that, but also the experience of have a cigarette produced in a different country. The tour was again aghast! Not because of my bad smoking habit, but because I would purchase something from one of them. One of them who? A city dwelling human of Saltillo? Why the fuck not? It's not like I was buying something bad like a sex slave or a porno mag or an illegal substance or a bag of used underwear. I saw the guy go into the store and come out with a pack of cigarettes. I'm pretty sure he didn't lace them with anything? I really don't know what their hang up was. It was just a guy, selling something like they do in that city. It's what they do. I'd just been in that store looking around and they broke up all sorts of things and sold them individually like a package of Poptarts (instead of buying the whole box), which is something I've only ever noticed in African American owned stores in the south (my dad used to deliver to curb stores), which is not something that white people stores do, but which I think is a super fab idea. Anyways, I get not drinking the water, but I didn't get onboard with the other white people telling me because it was dirty, diseased water. We have a family friend from Costa Rica. Costa Rican's are used to their water, but if we were to visit, she's told us that we couldn't drink the water. The same goes for her here, she can't drink our water. It's just water microbes. It doesn't mean it's dirty or diseased. Your just only used to your water. So, we go to the villages. We're there to hand out things like clothing and flour and Mardi Gras beads to the kids, then attend mass with them. On more than one occasion things would get ugly. A fellow mission person would just start talking badly about the villagers. Right in front of them! Pitying them, saying how poor and terrible their lives were. They didn't care because the villagers don't know English. "What if they do? At least a little? Besides humans can pick up on inflections and tones; intentions and emotions. They're not stupid. They know you're talking bad about them, so just stop it. You could tell they knew, because a villager would get to us in line and be smiling and happy, hear what she's saying and get all upset as in "is she talking badly about me?" and then they'd puff up after I'd said what I said, like "yeah, we DON'T need to be pitied." Their stances, facial expressions, and energy would shift three times while standing in front of me and the girl saying shit about them. I think about all the missionaries there, thinking they were charging in on white horses saving these desperate people with Mardi Gras beads. I'm not even saying that I was "saving" them by standing up for them. But I just couldn't stand that type of talk right in front of them. It was insulting. Besides none of the people in the villagers needed anything. They literally wanted for nothing. It's not like they weren't happy to receive things, but they had everything they needed. They had family, community, food, and actually a beautiful place to live and I never thought I would think that the desert was beautiful, but I did. They had nice, but simple sturdy stone and mud brick houses. They had plenty of water in a well which was dug generations ago and their pride of place was their little church. They were being pitied because they didn't live in two story mansions with BMW's and video game systems and big screen TV's and fancy name brand clothes and no restaurants to eat at. Simply because they didn't live in a commericialized white man's society did not mean that their digs were shabby or derelict nor that they were poor and destitute. I hated being on that trip. I hated everything the group thought, felt, and sybolized about these people. It would be different if they hadn't had any water source, were starving to death, or lived in cardboard hovels that doubled as their bathrooms, with worn rags for clothes. The way they made it sound, this is exactly who we'd be going to help and I thought I'd be digging slit trenches and helping them get water. Stupid mission people. Talking badly in front of the villagers happened on several occasions. However, one trip stands out in my mind. Perhaps it's the first one we visited? I'm not certain. But there was one communal bathroom, which they gladly said we could use. It was a toilet like you'd have in your house in this little building with a window. Several people needed to use it before it could be flushed, and then, it was flushed by pouring some water into the tank, not flushing via the handle. Made perfect sense to me. I'd been places before where water needed to be conserved. Hell when the water gets cut off in my house I've had to live like this. It's not a big deal. But Oh my god. Every single one of those people (because the two Europeans or The Sister and I) were all like, "See people?! This is why we are here! These are such sad conditions for these poor, unfortunate people." "Get a fucking grip and just get in there an pee. It won't kill you not to flush and they're conserving water you twit, they live in the fucking desert... or hadn't you noticed?" Which I'll give you a hint, was my response. Next, they decided to feed us. So, we're moving towards the doorway of this building and the one girl who was the most annoying (and had been on 5 billion mission trips here before) turned to us and said, "Do not eat the food." I leaned past her wondering what the hell was wrong with the food. Was it raw? Was it rotten? Nope, it looked and smelled delicious and there was a lot of it. There were also a lot of villagers standing around expectantly and happy waiting for us to eat the food they worked so hard to prepare. "Dont' eat it. These people go without food all the time and this is more food than they ever eat. Don't eat it. We'll leave it for them." Before I can say anything to the contrary, she's turned and is telling the villagers in Spanish that they can keep the food. The villagers are looking worried and sad and don't understand. "What the hell is wrong with you? Didn't you have watch Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom?! You're insulting these people. They made this for us. They spent a lot of time preparing it, you can tell. If you don't eat it, it's like you slapping them in the face." "Don't eat the food. Blahblahblah." "You eat the damn food and stop insulting them by refusing their gift." At which point, I turned to the villagers waiting, grabbed a place and smiled and they got all excited again that we were really going to eat the gift of food that they'd prepared for us. Which those villagers didn't go without food or else they wouldn't have had any food to prepare for our arrival. It's not like there were no sheep, goats, chickens or donkeys running around the village because they had slaughtered all of them just for us. No, there was more live stock than villagers. You could totally tell that this is how it played out. "Oh, white people are going to come to our village again this year and give us stuff and have mass with us. Cool. Well, lets welcome our guests because we are a very welcoming people and have some food prepared for them. Sounds good." "Wait. Why are they not eating it? Are they too good for our food? Do they not want our food? But damnit, because we worked for days to prepare food for our guests. Who do they think they are turning their noses up at it? Oh look they're arguing, I think. The fat one wants to eat our food, I think. Yes, she's getting a plate. Oh good, they're going to eat. Good because otherwise we wouldn't have invited them back to our village next time." Which is the whole point. You're an idiot if you don't realize that these villagers allowed people to come and visit them. They agreed to a visit. The missionaries didn't see it that way. Apparently they would have shown up with or without an invitation. But, you don't do that to people, thinking they're less than you, like them agreeing has little to no meaning. I'm glad I went for several reasons. I did fall in love with the desert, it was cool visiting Saltillo and those really great villages, and experiencing cultural things that weren't of the US. But also it opened my eyes to how shitty and uneducated a lot of people can be. You can't really plan a battle unless you know who your enemies think. Perhaps it doesn't help me, particularly, to strategize any better, but I'm certainly not gobsmacked when it happens.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorA girl from South Mississippi who finds herself in exploration. Archives
November 2019
Categories |