O.M.G
I am shocked at how hard the men here work to get a woman they think has money.
That woman is primarily caucasian. Though, don't forget Stella, she of getting her groove back, was a muntu. Ghana is hook up land. Old and middle aged white women dating guys old enough to be their kids (illustrating not judging). The women are the money, and boy do they keep the dosh coming, and the brothers are their sex toys, lovers, husbands, kings etc etc. Many are the euphemisms for male ho.
Let us call him Exhibit Lucky for being Lucky Dube's number fan. We met at the bar at Big Milly's on Sunday morning. He was with his buddy. I joined in, discovered we share interests and thought I had made friends.
A few weeks later, another friend takes me back to his crib to hang with the gang. Exhibit Lucky was part of the gang. Along with his wife. They married in July, her eyes still had stars and she coudl not believe that she is someone's wife. "That is crazy, right?" was her statement.
I agreed. He does not seem a husband type.
Anyway, way, girls being girls, we started talking, bonding, gossping about how difficult men can be. She, being from the West, added that men here are rather strict with their wives. They want them back in the village doing makoti duties. "So traditional and obsessed with culture," she explained.
My groot bek added: They are just giving you bull.
Guess what? A week later, Exhibit Lucky made a public annoucement of no longer wanting me anywhere near him, his wife and life.
Why?
Coz I saw him with another "Queen", his weekend special.
The rumour mill went into overdrive telling me about how most marriages are just a sham to get a Eurpean or American visa. And how basically, any woman with some money will do. There is even a young guy married to a very wrinkled woman who ought to be going to a nursing home, not on honeymoon.
Niger
On the banks of the river Niger, Bamako. Sigh.
Friday, December 19, 2008
Highlights ..
They include meeting Kristina aka Bingy. She is like so many of my sisters- stylish, fun, sassy, funky, fearless, hot inside out, runs and own a restaurant. She is Ghanaian, been here in Abidjan a year and even thinks in French now.
She had a baby at 14 and asked if she was not freaking out she said nope, she discovered at five months, went to have an abortion but it was too late and there was nothing she could do; let alone freak out coz the baby was on the way. Her folks took it in their stride too, no shouting, fainting, beating, name calling how am going to face my peers now.
Incredible. Very unlike what would be a typical South African parent's response of snot, trane, drama and wondering how to deal with the shame.
I am also meeting a lot of Nigerian guys. Yup, there is naija everywhere. They are something else. Very in your face about what they want, including you and they will try gettingwhat they want, including, by all means neccesary. So anyway, Bingy and I are on the phone when some takes it to chat to me. Says hi, come over to the restaurant I would like to meet you. His name is Kevin and says everyone must be happy to meet him, so it is whatever I want on him, plus the three of us heading back to his studio for some lala, reggae and whisky. When we get there he says, "I hope you people are comfortable"
I love how peopel around here express themselves. Like, Bingy lost her fave ankel bracelet. "And it is paining me," she said, adding, "But the fact is what? The fact is it is lost. I must move on."
They Nigerians and Ghanaians express themselves...the pidgin, pictures and frankness.
I dig it
Love
L
She had a baby at 14 and asked if she was not freaking out she said nope, she discovered at five months, went to have an abortion but it was too late and there was nothing she could do; let alone freak out coz the baby was on the way. Her folks took it in their stride too, no shouting, fainting, beating, name calling how am going to face my peers now.
Incredible. Very unlike what would be a typical South African parent's response of snot, trane, drama and wondering how to deal with the shame.
I am also meeting a lot of Nigerian guys. Yup, there is naija everywhere. They are something else. Very in your face about what they want, including you and they will try gettingwhat they want, including, by all means neccesary. So anyway, Bingy and I are on the phone when some takes it to chat to me. Says hi, come over to the restaurant I would like to meet you. His name is Kevin and says everyone must be happy to meet him, so it is whatever I want on him, plus the three of us heading back to his studio for some lala, reggae and whisky. When we get there he says, "I hope you people are comfortable"
I love how peopel around here express themselves. Like, Bingy lost her fave ankel bracelet. "And it is paining me," she said, adding, "But the fact is what? The fact is it is lost. I must move on."
They Nigerians and Ghanaians express themselves...the pidgin, pictures and frankness.
I dig it
Love
L
Woza January
The new ager in me used facebook status updates to channel the experience. So that I would be bored as ever, stuffed into an office that could barely contain the furniture let alone the four people sharing it.
One of those updates was Lerato is marching around Dogon Country, Mali. There will be no marching but there will be Dogon country, come January.
Africa is romancing me. And I loves it. Come Jan, I will also be jamming ko Sahara at the festival au dessert. 50km after Timbuktu.
One of those updates was Lerato is marching around Dogon Country, Mali. There will be no marching but there will be Dogon country, come January.
Africa is romancing me. And I loves it. Come Jan, I will also be jamming ko Sahara at the festival au dessert. 50km after Timbuktu.
Update
As I head to month six on Dec 23....
My eyes are blinking faster than normal, heart doing the double espresso marathon thing becoz I still cannot believe it. I am here. Someone pinch me. I am in Le riviera, Abidjan and calling this a cyber instead of internet cafe. Breakfast is demi, half, french bread with butter. I used to think they are being rather heavy handed with the butter even after I asked them to go light till I saw that buttering bread here is actually stuffing butter with bread, that is how much they use.
My cafe au lait is not top notch coffee, simple nescafe, au lait part taken care of by condensce milk that they go heavy on... more than half a tea cup of it. The cafe is as make shift as ever. two counters, two benches nailed to the floor. One Suleymana serving with a smile.
It is so strange to think of when I looked at my Lonely Planet maps, planned and chose where to go and wondered if my pronouciation was on point to now living the experience. It is just so strange. I visualized it, prayed tons about it and am now inhailing the heavy traffic fumes that make popping asprin second nature.
I once said via status update...I am in Kokrobite with rasta, music and drums...and I was in Kkbitey with much more than what I knew was waiting.I am at palces that called my name, it is so powerful. I love their brokeness, isolation, the hardness around the edges. More than than the wonderful moments, the magic of their newness, the comfort of their familiriarity...I am here.
My eyes are blinking faster than normal, heart doing the double espresso marathon thing becoz I still cannot believe it. I am here. Someone pinch me. I am in Le riviera, Abidjan and calling this a cyber instead of internet cafe. Breakfast is demi, half, french bread with butter. I used to think they are being rather heavy handed with the butter even after I asked them to go light till I saw that buttering bread here is actually stuffing butter with bread, that is how much they use.
My cafe au lait is not top notch coffee, simple nescafe, au lait part taken care of by condensce milk that they go heavy on... more than half a tea cup of it. The cafe is as make shift as ever. two counters, two benches nailed to the floor. One Suleymana serving with a smile.
It is so strange to think of when I looked at my Lonely Planet maps, planned and chose where to go and wondered if my pronouciation was on point to now living the experience. It is just so strange. I visualized it, prayed tons about it and am now inhailing the heavy traffic fumes that make popping asprin second nature.
I once said via status update...I am in Kokrobite with rasta, music and drums...and I was in Kkbitey with much more than what I knew was waiting.I am at palces that called my name, it is so powerful. I love their brokeness, isolation, the hardness around the edges. More than than the wonderful moments, the magic of their newness, the comfort of their familiriarity...I am here.
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