I lost my internet connection this weekend. The modem was working fine, but for some reason, it wasn’t able to send and receive data past the satellite. My paranoid self thought that it might be getting blocked, my reasonable self thought that something happened with the subscription. The truth will not be known. It just started again after a break of almost a week. So, it felt a bit strange not being connected. Part of it was liberating. Part of it was frustrating, as it usually is when I find myself without internet. The difference here is that the gap between not having it, and having it is big. I had to write Gwinn an email with instructions to contact the service provider to try to solve the problem remotely, and send that email on a disc with someone up to Yaoundé, have them send it from their account, and wait. I’ve known this for a while, but, I wouldn’t want to be here for so long without being able to connect. I don’t think I would have come here if I didn’t think that I would be able to have some contact with the rest of the world. Not having that connection for a few days, while it didn’t really bother me, reminded me of why.
So, what happened during those ‘lost days’. Oh you know, the Lomié regular rhythm of life. To start with, CIAD (Jen and George’s NGO) had their general assembly. It was a major act of rebellion. They went against the hierarchy. They elected a new board of directors, and started to really clamp down on Elias, the former director who stole all the money. The problem is that it might be too little too late… and done by people who are not used to thwarting authority. As a lifelong authority thwarter, I have been giving them some tips, but I am really trying to stay out of direct participation. I don’t really think that the new guard will really be that different than the old guard. It took all day Saturday to do the assembly. I drew all during the meeting. I’m getting the hang of these things. Go with my sketchbook, and get hours and hours of uninterrupted drawing time… and a show. My favorite part are the elections. There isn’t really much of a democratic spirit here… oh sure, there are elections, but the outcome is pretty much set before it even begins. The candidates announce who they are going to be (all decided in advance), then there is voting. That is also decided in advance. They pretty much want me there as an observer, so that I can vouch for the transparent and democratic nature of the process. They don’t really like it much when I say: “oh I don’t really mind that results were decided well before the vote, or even the meeting today”. I’m not supposed to say that. Its like I stand up in the room and say: “Its ok that you farted, I don’t mind”. Everyone gets stuck on the whole.. how did you know I farted part, but I clearly don’t care if they follow these stupid and totally imposed rules from the outside. Like you can trick people into good governance. We really do think Africans are stupid. I did learn something that I have been looking for a while. It’s a Zime saying that roughly translated goes something like this: “When a strong man helps a weak man in a fight, the weak man will run away”. Basically, I have been looking for linguistic evidence that charity, or helping someone out, is considered lunacy or weakness. This definitely does the trick. Its why ‘development’ just won’t work here. They wait until we show up, and then run away. Our culture is just the opposite. You always take the side of the underdog. So, when people come here to help the weak man fight, and he runs away, we are shocked. They Zime are shocked that we are shocked.
Speaking of weak men, and fighting. I threw Alex out this weekend as well. I knew he was done when he came back from getting new gas bottles in Among M’bang with almost no gas, and no money. He’s been getting particularly greedy again… and I have just had enough. I waited until Sunday to do it, so that I had a whole day to follow through on what I knew was going to be an pain in the ass. I started by taking Alex around to all of the places where he had outstanding chores, or stuff owed. We stopped by the carpenter (who I have been waiting for to deliver my table for almost 3 weeks). 5 minutes later, the carpenter promised delivery at noon that day.
We went to a few other places, and ended up at home, where I said (in my best Colombo) :” Oh, by the way Alex, you did say that you bought that grill right?”
“oh yes” was the reply.
When the Peace Corps volunteers were here and we grilled beef, I paid for a grill. Alex produced one. A week later Yo Yo (my neighbor) came to collect it. Apparently, he had borrowed it, and told me had bought it. Bouffing my money (bouffer, to eat in French slang, is the local word for stealing the money).
I said: “that’s strange, ‘cause Yo Yo told me you just borrowed it”.
“No, I bought it, but not from her”.
“oh” I say “Well, I’m confused, lets go straighten this out”.
He said: “She isn’t there, she’s at Church”.
“Really,” says I. “Thatcher, is Yo Yo at home” I asked her as she conveniently walked by..
“Oh yes, she’s getting ready to go to Church”.
“Great, can you let her know I’m coming over”, as I got up to head over there.
Alex goes as pale as a black man can. He lags behind a minute, trying desperately to figure a way out of this. I’m already in the neighbors compound.
“Is Yo Yo here?”.
She pops her head out, and I say: “Alex was telling me that be bought the grill, but you were saying he bought it… What’s going on here”.
I can be a real bastard, the whole morning was about engineering this moment. Alex will be smarting from that exchange for a long time. She fucking ripped into him. He tried to speak in Zime, she would have none of that.
“In French, I want Ben to know how much of a liar you are”.
That was the start. I let her rip into him for a minute or two as he come up with one lame lie after another.
I then said: “Thank you very much for clearing this up” and headed home.
Alex followed.
We sat on the rattan deck chairs, and I said: “That’s it Alex, you are done”.
He didn’t get it for a second or two, so I got up, asked him for his key and said:” Empty your room, and don’t come back”.
The tears came, the begging, every imaginable plea, whine or flat out begging continued for a few hours, as he slowly packed each item he owns into two small plastic bags. It was pretty much one of the saddest, most pathetic scenes I’ve ever seen. One of the things that bugged me the most, is that he kept trying to negotiate. One more chance.. over and over. No was the answer. Over and over. He told me he was going to the village to live.. which is essentially like a demotion, and was supposed to elicit sympathy from me. I bought him a machete, and a sharpener and said” “good luck, you will need it”.
I basically let him have it, but in a cold emotionless way. I told him that my anger was cold, and that kind doesn’t go away. I told him I didn’t hate him.. I pity him, which is like hate without the respect. I told him he was going to die unless he made the choice to be a man. Blah blah blah. I told him I knew that, as Charly had told him he was not welcome there either, that meant he had nowhere to go. He still had in the back of his mind that this was a negotiation, or a warning, or something. To be blunt: Fuck that noise. I am here for another year and a half, and I need to train some people to learn how to use my stuff so that they can do it themselves when I leave. Everyday Alex is around is one less day that I have to teach someone who wants to learn. He basically said at one point that he would be happy to not talk to me until I was ready to leave, so he could have some of the shit in the house (like my gas stove, or chairs)… Nice to be wanted.
I told him it really hurt me that I had to do this, but nowhere near as much as it was going to hurt him. The brutal truth is that Alex will not survive more than a few months in the village… and if he does, he’ll never make it out again. It is a fucking hard life, and he is a coward , lazy, vain and has a drinking problem. He has no bed, no possessions, no money, no skills, nothing of use to the people in the village. He is dead weight in a part of the world where the word dead will get accentuated in that phrase. I’m essentially sentencing him to either death or purgatory. This was hard for me to do, but I’m not pretending that was doing this for his own good. Maybe it will be, maybe not. That is his choice. I am doing this because he costs me too much money, time and effort. I am not getting a good return on my investment, and I am switching product. I told him there are 6 billion people in this world, and we as individuals are worth almost nothing. I told him if he could give me a good reason I should give him another chance.. I would consider it. He didn’t have anything. I really don’t like having to do this kind of shit. I don’t like having other people’s future in my hands. I resent it. My own future is going to be hard enough, but I really don’t like having my patience mistaken for weakness, and I will sleep well tonight knowing that I gave him every chance to make this work.. and he chose not to. He accused me of crucifying him. I said.. the hell I did. I put the hammer, the nails and the wood on the ground. You did the rest.
So, he slept in Charly’s car last night, apparently. This morning, who should walk by, but the Chief of Karagua, looking for his radio. Apparently Alex never finished dealing with that. If it wasn’t the grill, it would have been the radio that put him out the door. I sat with the Chief, and had to listen to him complain about not having his radio for months (and he is right to be pissed). I hunted down Alex, and let him have it. Publicly, which is the worst possible punishment. He needed to find the radio, or the name of the person who had it by noon the next day. At 11 am he showed up with a name… a name of the brother of the guy who supposedly had it. The Chief came by later, and said he didn’t know who that was. Off I went hunting down Alex. Charly found him first. I had a short talk with him before we met with the Chief. I said:” I think you sold the radio for beer money. If this is true tell me now, and you won’t go to jail. If you tell me it went down, and it turns out that it doesn’t show up, you are going to spend a long time in jail. You can’t steal the Chief’s radio and get away with it, and you can’t ruin my professional reputation for beer money”. A long pause, and a.. “I sent it down”. We met with the Chief. Alex’s answers were wholly unacceptable. I suggested that Alex go down the next day, find the guy, and the radio, or suffer the consequences. The Chief seemed to think that was a fair proposal. Alex left this morning, and is supposed to come back this evening. We shall see. I hope for his sake that he is not lying. I will throw him in jail. Isn’t that why I came here? Come to Africa, throw people in jail. Its all a part of VSO’s slogan: Sharing skills and changing lives. I am sharing my skill at being ruthless, and certainly changing his life. Maybe the new slogan should be sharing kills, and ending lives.
Speaking of ending lives. I have a small update on the GECEC situation. Apparently, the rumor around town is now that they don’t have enough money to give people their money. It is a very localized rumor, and can be explained away as a cash shortage, and a new credit application freeze.. but I’m not sure how long its going to stay as a closely held rumor. All hell my break loose.
Oh, and a final sharing and caring moment. Arlette is no longer representing VSO Cameroon… as of a week ago. I’m not sure if she got officially fired.. but there goes another life I changed. Boy, I am going to leave a large trail of wreckage behind me at this rate. If Cameroon gets many more volunteers like me, they will all be out of jobs, and in jail.
Posted by mrsclean at May 25, 2004 06:00 PM