Like Patrice Lumumba, first elected Prime Minister of Congo. Very anti-colonialist, the Belgians killed him for being a pain in the ass. They really did, and in the documentary, they laugh about it. (The Americans helped. The CIA was going to use poison toothpaste - so crafty, those Americans.) It's pretty gross. Actually, the longer I'm in Africa, the more I think that colonialism is pretty gross... not that I didn't think it was gross before. You can read his speech on Congolese Independance Day (June 30th, 1960) ici en français, and here in English. Apparently the Belgian King gave a very racist speech just before, saying something banal like, "We gave you so much, we're so great, and now we think it's good that we give you your independance." Then, without being on the agenda, Lumumba got up and infront of the international press, gave his speech.
Last night there was a documentary on General Amin of Uganda. What a guy! He was a child soldier, backwoods poor kid who rose up through the ranks because he was smart and ruthless. He's really funny, witty. In the documentary he talked a lot about telling the truth, always. I admire that kind of attitude. He wasn't always right and he killed a whole lotta people, but what a dude. If you get a chance to watch a documentary on him, please do. He's quite charming... and pretty scary. My favourite part of the documentary is when he is waving at the elephants!
Anyway, in one part of this documentary, he had bought a few new fighter jets for his army, which was quite well equiped, and he was talking to the pilots saying something like, "You must know these planes inside and out, you must read the manuals very carefully. You must know all the maps very well so that if you are asked to fly you can go and know exactly where you are going." Good advice.
He went on to say something that touched me:
When you are on your mission, do not think about coming back to the base. Think about your mission only, and God willing, you will come back to the base.
I've been thinking about coming home a lot lately. Maybe it's because I'm at the halfway point, my stomach plays tricks on me weekly if not daily, the heat is beginning to not be so great anymore, and my trips to the beach are becoming less frequent... but the General (aka His Excellency, President for Life) is right. Thinking about coming back to base only makes the fight that much harder. Be where you are now and be where you'll be later, right?
...
I bought the dreamy President Obama's The Audacity of Hope for the plane-ride here and I'm still only 50 pages in. I don't know what happened to me and reading. Up until high school I was a voracious reader. Perhaps I should blame university.
Aaanyway, I just got to the part where Obama is talking about our freedom as Americans (justice and liberty for all), and how at the end of their visit to Africa, just before their wedding, his wife, although she had a great time, talked about how happy she was to get home, how much she missed the freedom and protection from general insanity that you feel there (general insanity is my term, not hers).
They talk about how their family members and neighbours in Africa would loathe the bribes they would have to give to get anything done, the poverty they had to endure, how difficult it was to find work. They talked about the random visits from relatives, how they would expect gifts, food and shelter.
I love that I'm comparing myself to the First Lady.
I expressed to Mathieu how frustrated I was not to understand the language they speak here. He took it as a bit of an insult, thought that I didn't like his language, which is not at all what I said, but I guess what I should have said was, "I really want to learn to speak Fon." Learning to speak a language is HARD, and I don't imagine I'll be fluent by the time I leave, but I should at least give it a go.
I've never been one to expect people to go out of their way to accomodate me. I guess I was expecting for everyone to speak French - my brain really needs to get over it. There are several local languages here... and the language of the conquerer is French. Gotta love the colonials!!
Language is a funny thing. It means so much. In Canada it's the same. Depending on the language(s) you speak, it pretty much defines who you are (where you're from and where you went, how much money your parents had, what country conquered yours centuries ago).
Here, the better your French is, the better the chances you come from a rich family who could afford to put you through school, or you really struggled to make your way through school.
So today's the day I say, "Brain, get over it. Fon is the language you'll be hearing most. Take it and learn it as much as you can because you probably won't get the chance to speak it much when you get back to Toronto!!"
Fon lesson of the day:
Are you good? // Ah dough dagbay yah (accent français: a do dagbé ya - ça va bien?)
I'm good. // M' dough dagbay yah (accent français: M' do dagbé ya - je vais bien.)
Did you wake up well? Tu t'es bien réveillé? // Ah fow gangeeya? A fon gandjia?
I woke up well. Je me suis bien réveillé. // M' fow gangee. M' fon gandji.
You really have to watch when you "hmm?" and "uh huh" here -- you never know what you're actually saying!!!
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