deputy wife and termites
OK, I’m trying to keep this blog rated G (or whatever they call that rating for children now), but this morning is too interesting to not relate.
I stopped by Dayton’s shop before coming to the meeting about the school. Just a quick hello – he said he had looked for me at the party last night in the camp which I didn’t go to, and invited me to the peace cell meeting on Saturday which he will be leading. That changes my weekend travel plans, but as I said to him, “I want to go to the meeting.” “I want you to come, yes,” and we made plans to meet. He had earlier suggested hanging out Friday or Saturday evening which is cool. As I said posts ago, I think, I can speak normally (at my normal speed) to him – he understands me well (probably because he’s been friends with international volunteers in the past) – and we agree about most things and he’s easy to hang out with. So then I was thinking that I’d ask if he wants to go to the Cape Coast castle with me (where slaves were held before being packed on ships) on Sunday.
Now, I’m not naïve. Dayton loves the mother of his children but hasn’t seen her in a few years, and this is Africa – land of the deputy wives. I find him attractive, but I think it would be less problematic if we’re just friends. He’s not an active PCO staff member and most the other volunteers don’t know him, but I guess I’ll just cross those bridges as I get there and I just enjoy spending time with people I connect with. Morris took me to meet his mother and showed me his house the other day, and Madison has told me how badly he needs a partner – but I have no interest and I’m clear and nobody is losing face. Fred has explained the whole hands-off philosophy – once one has expressed an interest, the others may not act. Which makes sense, but I was like, “Um, but what about the WOMAN deciding if she is interested or not??” Fred agreed, but it’s a complicated situation with men trying to get along in a shortage of women.
And then, less than an hour later, I was asked to be deputy wife by another man. Maybe I shouldn’t use real names, but oh well. Jenny and I have tried in the past to use made-up names but we always get confused.
When our school meeting was disbanding somewhat, Joseph asked to speak to me outside. He led me far away from the building, to the tree at the end of the courtyard.
[PS – people are so nice here – the man was just making announcements about shutting down computers but I wasn’t listening, so he came right to me and explained again. Maybe I should be insulted that he assumes I’m stupid because I’m white, but I think he just saw that I wasn’t listening.]
[Oh good grief – now the guy next to me is hitting on me. What? Is purple my color today? Fortunately Samuel and Fred just showed up and saved me from embarrassing situation.]
OK, so Joseph and I started talking. He said, you have been here for a week or more, and you are here only a month, so I can wait no more to tell you how I feel. You know I am married, but we are in Africa, and it is ok to have different friendships with whoever you want.
At this point I’m thinking “friendship” may not be getting coffee at Starbucks once a month. I ask him to get to the point.
“I feel love for you. Life is short, we should tell those who we feel that for. I want to be very close to you. And since the first day, I feel this way. I think you feel the same way.”
OK, Joseph is very attractive and I do really like being around him. BUT I KNOW HIS WIFE. She has fed me. I have visited her. I like her. I saw her Tuesday and she asked me to come visit again. And that’s what I said to him. And part of why he is attractive is because he is such a good husband and father. It’s ok to find people attractive and never act on it.
And he said that she is fine with him being with other women – which may very well be true – and I don’t have to make a big deal out of it, which is true. It was just really surreal. I was … surprised. I appreciate the directness – is that not what I’ve been saying? And then I said I couldn’t talk about it anymore – major cultural confusion – and he said we’d talk again later and could he visit me in Awutu to which I did clearly say no (though he was just there yesterday with his son).
I said I wanted a PCO title, but the one I was looking for was not deputy wife. I was thinking more like educational coordinator than easy white girl. But that’s what is interesting – it wasn’t like he was assuming I was an easy white girl and I don’t think he would disrespect me and I don’t feel unsafe in any way at all. He was just feeling the love. And I’m way too uptight to be as Liberian as I was becoming. I may wear a lappa, but I can’t do the whole polygamy thing. Every person I know here has a father with multiple wives – and this generation is in an awkward place between the two worlds.
ANYWAY …
Gigantic termites invaded our house the other evening. We have these really huge (way taller than me) termite hills around the area, and they were apparently letting loose the wanna-be queens and kings. Everybody thought they were moths, but I recognized the little buggers – they’re just like 10 times larger than the ones in Riverside. The next morning I saw wings everywhere. The house – as all – is made of cement, so no stress. Just very interesting.
Oh, the very best news is gardening!! Yesterday I said to Emmanuel, do you have friends who garden? And he took me out to the house’s garden! Isaac had planted corn, but too late so it was unproductive and weeds took over. I spent a couple hours out there clearing before it started to rain – Fred and Cathy joined in as well – and we got a lot done. We’ll go get seeds soon for tomatoes and chili peppers and okra and watermelon and cucumbers and potato greens. It’s a pity I won’t be here to enjoy it, but it was just so nice to dig in the dirt.
Yesterday was Liberian flag day, so we all celebrated in our own ways. Mine was to spend much of the day after the rain started reading Liberian history. Lawrence came over (yes, the Lawrence with whom I exchanged loud angry words a couple days ago) and we had such a good talk. But I am an idiot. We spoke of Samuel Doe, the president who was killed in 1990, and I said, “Oh, you remember when he was killed?” I thought it would be like me always remembering where I was when I heard about 9/11 or space shuttles exploded.
Um, yeah, Lawrence remembers the day very well because along with Samuel Doe a number of Doe’s staff were killed – including Lawrence’s father, uncle, and older brothers. That day in April left Lawrence as the only surviving male family member.
I know Liberia is a small country, but sometimes I am surprised at how small it is and how everybody is connected. I’m also surprised at how candid people are willing to be with me. Lawrence described to me the rage he felt and his desire for revenge – and then I started to understand about child soldiers and ethnic rivalries and those things.
What do I like about being here? I like the friendly, honest openness. I like that I see goats and chickens running around when I look out my door. I like that I feel really safe – both friends and strangers are always looking out for me but giving me space at the same time, usually waiting for me to ask when I need help. I like that the pace of life is slower. Sometimes I get frustrated in meetings, but it’s not really uncomfortable. I like to see people working together to make a very bad situation better. I like being about to have meetings where we yell and argue and work things through and then are friends again (though I think we really scared the new volunteer this morning).
I do not like the mosquitoes – I’m getting many bites and I cannot even see the mosquitos when they do it. I had given up on the idea of the mosquito net because it was disturbing me – but then yesterday morning I woke up with small splotches of blood on my sheets – apparently my arms, etc. were bitten during the night and bled. So, I am no longer over the mosquito net or my anti-malarial medication. Neither are 100% effective, but hopefully together they keep me healthy.
OK, time to get back to work. If blogger will ever come up and let me post. Sigh. Maybe the slower pace of life will make me less impatient.
I stopped by Dayton’s shop before coming to the meeting about the school. Just a quick hello – he said he had looked for me at the party last night in the camp which I didn’t go to, and invited me to the peace cell meeting on Saturday which he will be leading. That changes my weekend travel plans, but as I said to him, “I want to go to the meeting.” “I want you to come, yes,” and we made plans to meet. He had earlier suggested hanging out Friday or Saturday evening which is cool. As I said posts ago, I think, I can speak normally (at my normal speed) to him – he understands me well (probably because he’s been friends with international volunteers in the past) – and we agree about most things and he’s easy to hang out with. So then I was thinking that I’d ask if he wants to go to the Cape Coast castle with me (where slaves were held before being packed on ships) on Sunday.
Now, I’m not naïve. Dayton loves the mother of his children but hasn’t seen her in a few years, and this is Africa – land of the deputy wives. I find him attractive, but I think it would be less problematic if we’re just friends. He’s not an active PCO staff member and most the other volunteers don’t know him, but I guess I’ll just cross those bridges as I get there and I just enjoy spending time with people I connect with. Morris took me to meet his mother and showed me his house the other day, and Madison has told me how badly he needs a partner – but I have no interest and I’m clear and nobody is losing face. Fred has explained the whole hands-off philosophy – once one has expressed an interest, the others may not act. Which makes sense, but I was like, “Um, but what about the WOMAN deciding if she is interested or not??” Fred agreed, but it’s a complicated situation with men trying to get along in a shortage of women.
And then, less than an hour later, I was asked to be deputy wife by another man. Maybe I shouldn’t use real names, but oh well. Jenny and I have tried in the past to use made-up names but we always get confused.
When our school meeting was disbanding somewhat, Joseph asked to speak to me outside. He led me far away from the building, to the tree at the end of the courtyard.
[PS – people are so nice here – the man was just making announcements about shutting down computers but I wasn’t listening, so he came right to me and explained again. Maybe I should be insulted that he assumes I’m stupid because I’m white, but I think he just saw that I wasn’t listening.]
[Oh good grief – now the guy next to me is hitting on me. What? Is purple my color today? Fortunately Samuel and Fred just showed up and saved me from embarrassing situation.]
OK, so Joseph and I started talking. He said, you have been here for a week or more, and you are here only a month, so I can wait no more to tell you how I feel. You know I am married, but we are in Africa, and it is ok to have different friendships with whoever you want.
At this point I’m thinking “friendship” may not be getting coffee at Starbucks once a month. I ask him to get to the point.
“I feel love for you. Life is short, we should tell those who we feel that for. I want to be very close to you. And since the first day, I feel this way. I think you feel the same way.”
OK, Joseph is very attractive and I do really like being around him. BUT I KNOW HIS WIFE. She has fed me. I have visited her. I like her. I saw her Tuesday and she asked me to come visit again. And that’s what I said to him. And part of why he is attractive is because he is such a good husband and father. It’s ok to find people attractive and never act on it.
And he said that she is fine with him being with other women – which may very well be true – and I don’t have to make a big deal out of it, which is true. It was just really surreal. I was … surprised. I appreciate the directness – is that not what I’ve been saying? And then I said I couldn’t talk about it anymore – major cultural confusion – and he said we’d talk again later and could he visit me in Awutu to which I did clearly say no (though he was just there yesterday with his son).
I said I wanted a PCO title, but the one I was looking for was not deputy wife. I was thinking more like educational coordinator than easy white girl. But that’s what is interesting – it wasn’t like he was assuming I was an easy white girl and I don’t think he would disrespect me and I don’t feel unsafe in any way at all. He was just feeling the love. And I’m way too uptight to be as Liberian as I was becoming. I may wear a lappa, but I can’t do the whole polygamy thing. Every person I know here has a father with multiple wives – and this generation is in an awkward place between the two worlds.
ANYWAY …
Gigantic termites invaded our house the other evening. We have these really huge (way taller than me) termite hills around the area, and they were apparently letting loose the wanna-be queens and kings. Everybody thought they were moths, but I recognized the little buggers – they’re just like 10 times larger than the ones in Riverside. The next morning I saw wings everywhere. The house – as all – is made of cement, so no stress. Just very interesting.
Oh, the very best news is gardening!! Yesterday I said to Emmanuel, do you have friends who garden? And he took me out to the house’s garden! Isaac had planted corn, but too late so it was unproductive and weeds took over. I spent a couple hours out there clearing before it started to rain – Fred and Cathy joined in as well – and we got a lot done. We’ll go get seeds soon for tomatoes and chili peppers and okra and watermelon and cucumbers and potato greens. It’s a pity I won’t be here to enjoy it, but it was just so nice to dig in the dirt.
Yesterday was Liberian flag day, so we all celebrated in our own ways. Mine was to spend much of the day after the rain started reading Liberian history. Lawrence came over (yes, the Lawrence with whom I exchanged loud angry words a couple days ago) and we had such a good talk. But I am an idiot. We spoke of Samuel Doe, the president who was killed in 1990, and I said, “Oh, you remember when he was killed?” I thought it would be like me always remembering where I was when I heard about 9/11 or space shuttles exploded.
Um, yeah, Lawrence remembers the day very well because along with Samuel Doe a number of Doe’s staff were killed – including Lawrence’s father, uncle, and older brothers. That day in April left Lawrence as the only surviving male family member.
I know Liberia is a small country, but sometimes I am surprised at how small it is and how everybody is connected. I’m also surprised at how candid people are willing to be with me. Lawrence described to me the rage he felt and his desire for revenge – and then I started to understand about child soldiers and ethnic rivalries and those things.
What do I like about being here? I like the friendly, honest openness. I like that I see goats and chickens running around when I look out my door. I like that I feel really safe – both friends and strangers are always looking out for me but giving me space at the same time, usually waiting for me to ask when I need help. I like that the pace of life is slower. Sometimes I get frustrated in meetings, but it’s not really uncomfortable. I like to see people working together to make a very bad situation better. I like being about to have meetings where we yell and argue and work things through and then are friends again (though I think we really scared the new volunteer this morning).
I do not like the mosquitoes – I’m getting many bites and I cannot even see the mosquitos when they do it. I had given up on the idea of the mosquito net because it was disturbing me – but then yesterday morning I woke up with small splotches of blood on my sheets – apparently my arms, etc. were bitten during the night and bled. So, I am no longer over the mosquito net or my anti-malarial medication. Neither are 100% effective, but hopefully together they keep me healthy.
OK, time to get back to work. If blogger will ever come up and let me post. Sigh. Maybe the slower pace of life will make me less impatient.
posted by NOLA at 4:33 AM
2 Comments:
Aghhh!!! You've been asked to be a "deputy wife"?!? I had no such thing existed! But see? We can add to the alphabet that Danielle and I used to make up for you...muah ha ha...j/k j/k...it IS psycho-weird though, culturally. I've never heard of such a thing. I wouldn't be okay with sharing MY man!
Do termites bite people? Like those evil mosquitoes? If you check out:
http://www.atmob.org/old_discuss_archive/msg00158.html
It tells you about them and what attracts them, hee hee. Mosquitoes like movement, sweat, and sometimes, if you've just eaten too! They see contrasts of colors, so if you wear the colors of your environment, it's harder for them to see you. They like CO2, and will follow where you exhale, especially if you're hyperventilating or breathing heavily. And heat, of course.
That must explain why when I was little, heard its buzzing and hid under the covers, I got bitten like crazy anyways. I was breathing hard, sweating under the covers, CO2 was leaking out in large amounts from wherever there was a hole of my blanket because I'd need to breath, and hot. I didn't move, but I think that that all didn't matter when all those other things were happening! =)
Even in Africa, you will garden, muah ha! And if you have anything to do with those watermelon, I'm sure they'll turn out delicious! =)
Your "romantic" adventures remind me of the time in Burkina Fasso when some old guy tried to buy Jessie (who was all of 16)for, I dunno, a herd of goats or something. Her Dad lied and told him she was promised to someone back home, but the old man wondered at what an old maid Jess was! Hang in there, Heidi! You are not deputy ANYTHING material!
I'm loving your blog and your Heidi-scapades!
Roberta
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