For your reading pleasure…a post about my last day in Equatorial Guinea, after I had just lived there by myself for a month. Never got posted:
I have spent a month living in a West African city. One month. I remember my first two days here: I was terrified to exit my hostel. I refused to go out at night…and I was equally scared to go out during the day. At night I convinced myself that there must be robbers and rapists on every corner, while during the day I let my American stereotypes cloud my vision. I would speed walk through the streets of Malabo; treating restaurants and known businesses as “safe points”, I would get myself from Point A to Point B without so much as a sideways glance off the trail. I would actively think how I needed to step around every pothole, questionable puddle of slime, or ill-planned road construction. I cautiously crossed the road; I was very scared of being hit by a taxi or wayward driver. Every aspect of life here was so in my face and I had sensory overload one too many times.
The longer I stayed here, the more I necessarily relaxed. I couldn’t live in some sort of weird hyped up state of being for four straight weeks. No, that’s not good for my relaxation strategy…or my blood pressure levels.
So I started walking a little slower. I started looking around more; I read the signs on the buildings around me, and I took the snobby look off my face. I realized that just because I was in Africa didn’t mean that I was in any sort of heightened danger. I started to make a true effort to greet people and realized that looking happy didn’t make me a target for petty crime. Likewise, walking at a humanoid pace was also not the end of my life – in fact, I was probably less conspicuous now that I wasn’t trucking through the city center in ten minutes flat.
Initially, little things about the local culture bugged me. I hated the fact that people were always late. They said 30 minutes, but really meant 45. I disliked the slow pace of life here; the slow walking pace, the daily siesta phenomenon, and the fact that at any time of the day, the bars were dotted with people who apparently had all the time in the world to socialize and none to work. Just a few weeks later, I find myself sliding into the African idea of planning and timing; I have caught myself on more than a couple occasions promising to be somewhere in 30 minutes, and getting there an hour late. Likewise, I have started being much more laid back about the timing and schedule of my day. I walk slowly and unhurried; I make time for long mid-morning breaks. The idea of a working lunch is pretty much foreign here, and I really like that.
I didn’t realize how much I had changed until I went out to dinner with a new friend last night; a friend who has only been here for ten days. Meeting him at his fancy hotel, we walked to my side of town to a small, locals-only, dinner place I know. Walking past armed military, he visibly changed his demeanor. In contrast, I barely acknowledged their presence; it is just so normal for me now that I don’t change how I’m walking or talking around them. We continue to meander down the street. I’ve now mastered the art of stepping around various road obstacles; parked cars, small tiendas, holes, trash, piles of gravel, disgusting puddles, and overflowing gutters. He, on the other hand, gingerly steps around a bulging sewage grate with so much care I want to look at him and say, “Oh, just get over it already!”.
Every taxi that drives by causes him concern. The mostly naked baby playing in the dirt, the woman carrying a bucket of water on her head, and young kids hanging around and just being stupid teenagers, all elicit physical reactions from him. He is visibly on guard; you can see him tense up as we approach other groups of people. While he sees a group of dangerous night hoodlums, I see families going to and from church and dinner and groups of friends just hanging out on a Sunday night. He openly admits that he doesn’t know the culture and he finds the lack of English speaking people to be intimidating.
The crowning moment is when I briefly invite him into one of my good friend’s houses, where they are mid-birthday celebration. We are the only white people. I offered him a seat in the living room, and he stiffly accepted it. He looked around the living room and saw what I observed just three weeks ago: a badly decorated, un-air conditioned apartment, with only sporadic running water. Mismatching furniture stuffed into a tight place; many young black people dancing to African music that is pumping through a set of speakers. He can’t relax. He’s never been in the home of an African family before and he seems so ill at ease. He doesn’t see the hope, happiness, and the fact that people live here in relative poverty (relative to America at least) and have fully functioning lives. I ask him about it later, and he opines that the only way the poor people could be happy is because they just don’t know better. But that’s not true; the people here know exactly what life is like in America. They see just as many American music videos as the next person; but they don’t have to live in constant misery just because they don’t live the “American Dream”.
I can see why this is so difficult for my friend. He is new here and he is working through all of the stereotypes that I had to when I first arrived. I can empathize so well with what he is feeling because I was in his shoes a mere three weeks ago. I know I made the same faces and exhibited the same sort of apprehension. I was personally not at all bothered by anything race related, rather, it was more of a crash course into recognizing how most of the rest of the world lives (i.e.: without modern, American convenience). There is a literally a learning curve to understanding that people can live without so much and still be so happy.
I leave the country tomorrow, and I’m really happy to have realized how much I’ve adapted to life here. In the last week I’ve made so many new friends that I am sincerely sad to leave. I think it bodes well for my future though; I have proved to myself that I can put down roots in a completely foreign place and succeed!
