Racist Cookies?

The grocery store in my area is owned by a friendly little Turkish man (friendly because he didn't give me a dirty look when I knocked over a display of coke). So naturally, the store has lots of Turkish goodies. It also stocks these delectable little cookies. I picked a pack up because they looked like Oreos (they taste like stale coco powder mixed with pepper). However, what is amazing about them is the name – Negro Cookies. These cookies would never make it in the US – far too many things wrong with naming cookies Negroes. However, I can say that I’ve eaten a negro – actually, I’ve eaten a pack of negroes.

Pear shaped

Things are well in the Congo, I mean, as well as can be expected. I’m frequently treated as an inferior being here. Not because I’m white (that’s an entirely different post) but because I’m a woman. We aren’t ‘evolved’ enough to join the other part of society as one man eloquently put it. I don’t think there has been a visiting female research candidate to come to the university in my department before me - yay for path breaking?. In that regard, I’m unique and have a bit of equal standing with people, but in reality, I’m treated as a woman – or here as a child. Some of people in the office I work in are excited that I'm there - exchange of ideas and stuff. They treat me as someone to have a discussion with. But, there are one or two people who are in the office who don't agree with this. Women are meant for making babies and dinner - that's it.
These are the men who answer questions directed at me for me, as if I can’t answer them myself. I’m pretty sure, actually, I’m definitely sure, I can describe my research far more accurately than someone I’ve just met. I mastered talking around the age of 1.5 and haven't looked back since. It’s almost as if I can’t think. Somehow, I’ve gotten here, but am no longer allowed to think for myself. Trust me, I’m think lots of things when these people are around – none of them are polite.

While this isn’t the case for all of the men I meet, the one or two twerps who play into the stereotypes typically grate my nerves beyond belief. One person has somehow gone one step too far; he randomly showed up in the compound I live in. (I don’t know how he found out where I live - I ask the taxi to drop me off three blocks away.) He’s now trying to come to Cambridge to be with me – problematic for him because he doesn’t speak English. I also get about 15 missed calls a day from him – totally creepy; there’s nothing else but totally creepy, sketch, and annoying as hell to describe it. Now, this guy just randomly stops by or calls all day long.

I live with two other American girls, and a family that consists of an Australian husband and Zambian wife (he’s in the mining business), a Congolese woman who takes care of the houses, and two Congolese guards - a day guard, and a night guard. It’s not only a problem for me but it’s a problem for them. I don’t know how to relay the subtle hint of ‘go the f*ck away’ without seeming to harsh, but I will. (In reality, I'll ask the guards to since men seem to be the focal point here). I promise, not all Congolese men are like this. I know some wonderful guys who go out of their way to make sure everything is okay – they’ve wished my family well, brought me invaluable resources, and helped me in the city. (Tomorrow, I’ll be knocking papayas out of the trees in the backyard with one of them.) The pear-shaped parts just get so, so tiring.

Otherwise, I've finished my research here for now. I got massive amounts of stuff that I now have to somehow sort into a usable form. My favourite was meeting the Lunda Emperor. He probably gave me the best interview of everyone - and one taxi driver's interview, which was pretty amazing.

My feet are in a constant state of disgusting. It's just eww looking at them. I was quite sick last week - stomach issues. I went to the doctor. It was either cholera or dysentery. I stopped listening at one point. The water and power were also off when I was sick making matters so much worse. I'm better now though. :)

That's it for today. I'll be bored tomorrow so maybe I'll write a small novella for reading.

Allow me to introduce you to...my bed.

Let me introduce you to...my bed.

As one could guess, the animal print bed cover was not my choice, (the missionaries here obviously have a wild side), but it's super warm for the cold nights. Yes, it gets cold here at night, similar to Cambridge. That big white ball of fabric above it is my mosquito net. I'm not sure if I really like a mosquito net or not, but it's necessary. You can tell by looking at the picture that my pillow is at the foot of the bed (the pillow is that bright green square). There is a reason for this.

The compound lost power a little after 12 yesterday. By 6.30 I was tired of using a hand crank flashlight to try and read, so I decided to go to bed. So I cranked the flashlight as much as possible and started to 'fix' the bed. I started to tuck the mosquito net into the bed frame when *BOOM* the headrest came loose landing squarely on my foot shooting the other side of the bed across the room, ie, 4 feet. So, a few choice words later, I began to try and reassmble the bed. The power was still out at this point. I wasn't able to just smoosh the thing back together, so I took the matress off, then the wood board which the matress sits on. I was able to somehow maneuver the bed frame back together (the screw wasn't originally in tight). Remember the power was still out and I'm using a hand crank flashlight to do this. Exceptionally annoyed I put the wood base back on the bed, then the mattress, remake the bed, and tuck the mosquito net in. I thought it would be useful to sleep with my feet at the headboard in case it collapsed again. This way my head wouldn't go crashing down, just my feet. But, as I laid down in my bed, with the mosquito net tucked in, I realized I had to go to the bathroom. There was no way I was undoing the mosquito net and wiggling out of bed, so I decided to hold it, for the next 12 hours.

HOWEVER, literally three minutes later the power came back on. I wouldn't have moved from the bed except all the lights turned on. I had to undo the mosquito net and get out of the bed to turn the lights off. But seriously who is tired at 7? So, I just got back up and boiled 4 gallons of water for today and read some more. I'm still sleeping on a shaky bed. I'm already worried about knocking the net loose in my sleep but now I'm worried about the bed collapsing in my sleep.

I really miss my squeaky bed in Harvey Road. It's never fallen apart even though it sounds like it should!

In other news, I was guided around Lubumbashi today. The missionaries, whose spare house I am in, took me around before. However, they obviously took me to the more quite neighborhoods. Because today, Amani the guard at my compound, took me down the streets which were much more crowded and a little more dirty. It was interesting though, to see Lubumbashi from a local perspective rather than that of white missionaries. I definitely was called wazungu more today than before. I've just learned to ignore it and to keep my head down. I'm going to a new library tomorrow. I'm not sure what I'll find there, but we'll see.

Goal for this week: still not getting malaria, finding that amazing mass of material that probably doesn't exist any longer for my thesis...

Late Congo post

I'm in the Congo - Lubumbashi to be exact. It's a little more than I expected. But, nevertheless, I'm here. I'm downloading iTunes because my iPod (which stays locked in my suitcase mother) died right in the middle of my favourite Britney Spears song. How sad is life without old Spears? :(

Anyway, I arrived yesterday and slept through the day. It was quite the trek. My first flight left at 9, so I headed to the airport at 4, was in London by 5.30 then spent the next 1.5 hours on a tube that was heavily behind schedule and moved slower than my G'mas driving. It was easy to find the desk for Ethiopian Airlines; it was much less easy checking in. The woman at the desk didn't believe that Lubumbashi and Kinshasa are part of the same country. I told her they were - obviously I don't look trustworthy - she asked someone else. Then to verify her self-belief that Lubumbashi and Kinshasa are part of two countries, she called the manager down to the desk, and then the manager's manager. This took about 40 minutes. (So, apparently Brazzaville and Kinshasa are more one country than Lubumbashi and Kinshasa. Geographically, yes they're much closer - but not one country.) 30 minutes after the original 40 I was able to proceed through security and to the gate. No problems there. I found dinner and I ate dinner at the gate. But, as I was slightly dozing in my chair waiting to board, I get called to the gate desk. Why? The woman who checked me in thought I had stolen my debit card to buy multiple airline tickets across Africa. (The normal purchase with stolen credit cards). I had to fill in a form stating that the card was mine, which if I had stolen it, I probably would fill in the form anyway. This took another 50 minutes because counter lady had to walk the form up two flights and then to terminal three herself. Some people...

Ethiopian Airlines isn't bad. I wouldn't say that it's my favorite airline but it isn't my least favorite. It lacks in-flight entertainment, which for 7 plus hours, I think is necessary. My seat wouldn't recline, the person's seat in front of me reclined far too much. (The person in front of me was a Spanish guy going on a trip with four of his friends. They were loud for about 7 hours of the flight. He also liked to throw things behind his chair that he didn't want and stretch his arms all the way to my face. We won't be keeping in touch.) I slept for the majority of the time. Had dreams where the professors in Cambridge yelled at me the whole time - for not making my bed; then Whoopi Goldberg joined them in that rant. ???? Otherwise the flight was fine. No malfunctions, like on my way to England, ergo it rates well. I think I was expecting more with Addis Ababa airport. I'm used to Heathrow, Dulles, and JFK. Everything is consumer oriented and covered in a fresh coat of paint. While Addis had some stalls on the inside, it definitely wasn't covered in a new coat of paint. Probably because everyone was smoking inside - gross. Why paint over things if the niccotine is just going to stain the paint? Security there was fun. You crowd at one end of the terminal and shove through the metal detector. The guy behind me, who somehow managed to jump 20 people to get behind me, crowded too much. He went past the personal space and straight onto touchy feely - trust me, that ended quickly. He also somehow was able to make it past me in the security line only to be stupid enough to leave his ipod and cell in his pocket. He had to walk through the metal detector muchos times and still was patted down and wanded. <--- Hahaha I breezed through (again, I'm used to Dulles which has draconian security measures). The flight to Lubumbashi was interesting. It was me, a few Belgians, and a whole flight of Chinese men. I slept; I think in a horribly grotesque fashion since I fell asleep before take off and woke up after landing.

Arrival at the airport is different. You get off the plane and mill around for a bit trying to find the way to the airport. Once in, you get in a line in customs, then pass to the yellow fever vaccine desk, then pass into another room to collect luggage. Here you wait. The luggage is unloaded by hand, so it takes a while. Someone was eyeing my suitcase once it came in, even looked at the name and claim ticket. There would have been a fight if someone were to make off with my bag. Besides, it's such an odd color that I know I'm the only one with it. They also actually check your baggage claim ticket at the airport. I didn't think that it was ever done. I had to dig to find mine. Anywho, I was proposed to. When I said that I had a fiance and we were very much in love (I don't, I'm just using my friend as my fiance, he knows), the guy told me to ditch him and stay in the Congo and be his wife. I'm sure he would have provided a substantial dowry, but I'm pretty sure that Caius would have wanted a portion of it. 75 customs checks later and finally made my way to a taxi.

The taxi driver drove me to my hotel. Or he raced me to my hotel playing chicken with the other drivers. He drove a car with the steering wheel on the British side but on the right side of the road. I was confused. It took about half of a five minute trip to figure out that we were driving on the right and steering on the right. I blame England for my confusion.

My hotel is nice. It's supposedly one of the newer hotels. I have AC, which is currently freezing me to death. I get free bottled water and chocolates on my pillows. The owner knows who I am - possibly because he booked my room for me. They all call me Madame Catherine - tres odd. I think my room is fumigated every day because it smells like bugspray. I smell like bugspray too, so we make a nice pair. I have a shower in my room but I don't know if the water is safe to use. So, I haven't showered in over two days. I have baby wipes - meh. I don't know how babies are happy with that.

I'm getting very proficient at Spider Solitaire. It isn't very safe to walk the streets at night and the sun sets around 7, so I have lots of time to improve my game. Or write an article like my supervisor suggested, but I think that will be secondary to improving my solitaire statistics.

Goals for this week: Not get malaria and to somehow manage a shower.

Apparently I write like a man.

After inserting part of my dissertation abstract into what can only be the world's most scientific linguistic machine, it has been determined that I write overwhelmingly dude-like.

http://bookblog.net/gender/genie.php

I don't know if that's good or bad in academia.

Funding for field work...

12. In the event of accident or emergency, indicate where you would expect any casualties to be taken:

With reference to Question 15 have you considered any potential physical or psychological
problems due to the nature of your research? Give details:


Pleasant.

Under a pile

I should really work out a better organization method. Maybe some folders.