Thursday, November 7, 2013

Death and the Maiden (err, Married Woman)


I thought long and hard before posting this blog – I wrote the majority of it over a week ago – but have since decided that if you can read about my boogers then you can read this.  Warning: there are some triggers here.  If you have a hard time being in the presence of blood or reading about gore, maybe you should think twice about reading this post.  On the other hand, maybe you are in dire need of reading this post.  Studies are conflicted on this point.  Plus, since this is both sociological and personal, this is a way to get to know more of how my mind works, if you are interested, assuming you are because you are reading my personal blog.

I was thinking recently about death in films.  There is something really essential that they leave out of it.  It's easy enough to show someone being shot.  But not so easy to show what death looks like.  And it's easy enough to cinematically show someone hacking at, really, the ground with a machete, but not so easy to show what it looks like to hack a body with a machete.

A few thoughts on this:  The body wants to live.  It can survive really heinous and severe mutilation and live on for hours or even days afterwards.  Even if the person is not conscious, you would know that they were alive as their body fights.

1.     Consider a gunshot wound to the gut.  Gutshot, as the westerns call it.  You shoot someone in the gut, it takes them days to die.  And they die of infection.  Not blood loss, not severed arteries, not a broken spine, infection.  There are all kinds of things in your gut that when punctured leak things that are really bad for other types of tissue, bile, acid, waste, etc.  Death by gut infection.  This is not a nice way to go.  The only scene in a movie that describes this that comes to mind was from the film The Three Kings.

2.     Consider being strangled.  How long do you think it takes to strangle someone?  This is not the same thing as being “choked out” which is a much more severe move, usually nonlethal but can became lethal if the air passage is continually constricted, but immediately cuts blood flow to the brain.  But strangling someone is different.  Choking someone out is difficult and takes skills that most people do not have.  Strangling someone until they are unconscious will take over a minute.  Strangling someone until they are dead, because the body will keep fighting for the breath, takes over 6 minutes.  Bizarrely, if you look up the key words, “how long does it take to strangle someone to death” there are 1.5 million hits on Google.  The closest thing I have seen to this on film personally was an episode of Breaking Bad and the film No Country for Old Men.  These scenes were both gruesome and uncomfortable but also shorter than it would actually take.  Drowning works similarly, btw.

3.     Most westerners seem to have no idea what a dead body looks like.  It takes a day or so, but the body bloats and farts and skin and fat begin to, in a manner of speaking, melt off, blood pools into the parts for the body closest to the ground.  Does anyone know what dead eyes look like?  You know from the movies, but really, it's worse than that.  It's is the ultimate stuff of nightmares to me.  There are a ton of really interesting philosophical cum psychological ideas on this.  The “deadness” and depth of human eyes that creates fundamental horror in us.  Because they eyes are really the window to the soul.  They are the window to the ultimate horror – the other.  What are they thinking?  You can never really know, hence the horror.

4.     How easy is it to move a body?  Not easy.  Can you imagine moving a 150 pound, or more, octopus where each limb weighed about the same as the rest of the body?  Even dragging that dead gangly weight is difficult.  About the only exposure most people have to what moving dead bodies, really dead not dummies and not limp live people, but truly, no muscle use, dead bodies is from films of the Holocaust, of throwing those bodies into pits and onto piles.  And what does it look like?  It's awkward.  Human bodies are terribly, terribly, awkward.  This is almost unshowable in films.  And when they hit rigor, they are more awkward, because they won’t move in predictable ways.  It's not that they do not move at all, as if they were a log, but they do not move in predictable ways.  And what about the rotting body?  Moving a body that is already decomposing?  The ligaments let loose and skin pulls away from flesh and stretches, adipose tissue squishes and wounds open further and things spill out because the fascia is no longer working to get organs in place.

5.     Another thing we never see, we never see anything that realistically looks like hacking someone up in films.  There are just countless horror films with knife stabbings and ax hackings and sword jabbings, but there is no sense of what it is like to cut off an arm with a machete.  Let me give you a hint, do you know one of the highest paying jobs in medieval Europe?  The headsman.  It is very difficult to take off a limb or a head with one blow even with extreme skill and a very, very sharp blade.  This is the reason why Madame le guillotine was so treasured as a humane form of execution for so long.  Because it didn’t hack the head half off.  Do you recall all of those cases in the news, real cases, where some woman was stabbed by her boyfriend or husband like 76 times and survives?  That’s a thing.  That happens.  It happens relatively often.  It's amazing how many people can survive having the back of their neck hacked at with a machete more than 50 times in a failed attempt to severe their head, who were in a house that was then set on fire and so half their body is also burned, who escape to live in a stinking fly and mosquito infested swamp for over a month with no clean water and no food who then survive!  That is a real case in Rwanda.  The body wants to survive, if it can, it will.  But this we never see.  We don’t know what this woman looks like (because she was a woman).  We don’t know what it looks like to see someone hacked up with a machete outside of horror films.  And that isn’t because it isn’t on film somewhere.  It is.

6.     What about beating?  Can you imagine how long it would take, how many punches or hits with a baseball bat, it takes to kill a person if you were only beating their head?  The skull…it's really resilient unless you get a lucky shot.  People can be beaten, all over their body, until they literally do not look human.  People can have their skull fractured here and there and still survive.  I know this from personal experience.  No I didn’t try to beat a human to death (or did I…)  But there was an incident with a raccoon that was dying slowly that I had hit with my car.  It was the humane thing to do and I still bare the emotional scar from the incident.  The only scene I have seen of anything reflecting reality in this capacity is a movie that you will not want to see for any reason…it is a French film called Irreversible.  It is a really good film and I completely DO NOT recommend it.  It won awards at film festivals where people walked out of the film in droves because they could not witness it.

Our issues with death in the United States are really strange.  There is a good book that discusses the fact that we have the death penalty but we decreasingly use it in the US and everywhere because increasingly, as we remove ourselves from nature, we cannot bare to witness the messiness, the smelliness of death.  The book is by Phillip Smith and is called Punishment and Culture.

Academicians make arguments that video games and movies desensitize people to violence.  I think it desensitizes people to the IDEA of violence.  Makes it seem easy.

The thing is that Americans do not have to really deal with trauma and they do not have to really deal with death and extreme pain.  Of course, we deal with it personally, individually.  We have an entire industry designed to deal with trauma and emotional pain.  This way you can pay for therapy instead of allowing your culture to explain how you feel for you through the support of your community.  How else can you explain increased rates of PTSD for soldiers fighting in Iraq and Afghanistan and Vietnam but not so much for WWII and other wars elsewhere?  How else can you explain that rape victims in the USA may not be able to function AT ALL but those in Rwanda go on with their lives.  Or even rape victims in the USA?  How can you explain that rape victims in the US military are totally shattered above and beyond the rates of those who were the victim of civilian rape?  Culture and support man.  If you do not have a plausible cultural story that allows you to fit your experience within and explains fully your personal story of pain, then it makes no sense for you and your identity is shattered.

But, first, the Rwandese do not have this individualization of trauma and they do have extreme trauma.  Every single person here was affected in some very intense way by the genocide.  And who helped them to deal with it?  Every single person here has seen what real pain looks like.  Whether through the genocide – seeing a person bleed out because their arm was chopped off and no one knows how to bind the arteries to keep them from dying (you can't just put on a tourniquet and bind the wound like in the movies to keep a person from bleeding to death), or because they have no recourse for the “regular” trauma of life.  That is, rape (and I know rape shouldn’t be a run of the mill thing that happens to people, except for the fact that it IS in patriarchal cultures), TB, HIV, random sicknesses, accidents, again “run of the mill” motives for murder, etc.

On this point I would like to note that, in western medicalized and beauty obsessed culture, we are no longer privy to viewing the normal range of human variation anymore.  You can change your looks, you can change your hair color, you can fix those funny ears or nose or chin or cheeks, you can lose or gain weight (mostly) depending on the prevailing standards of beauty in your locale.  Hell, you can even change your skin and eye color.  But here, there are people with untreated cataracts, untreated birth defects, un “treated” this and that.  It's times like these that I remember that gorgeous line from Robin Hood: The Prince of Thieves:  “Allah loves wondrous variety.”

On another but related note: since I have been in Rwanda, I have been obsessed with the next generation of zombie literature and films.  I am not sure why, but, after giving it some thought:  who are ALWAYS the real enemies in zombie films?  The living people.  The theme of the recent and highly acclaimed series The Walking Dead points this out.  Because, in fact, the title does not refer to the zombies but to the people left behind.  And this, I think, is one of the main themes running through the entire zombie genre:  genocide.  I think this is the reason I have been obsessing about this genre.  Zombies, they want to kill you.  Why?  Because you are ALIVE.

Mixed in with this is always other concerns of the day, all equally relevant: the general “end” of life as we know it culturally for a thousand reasons that small minded people fear, nuclear hazards, post-apocalyptic (for any reason) thinking, viruses and illnesses, the uncontrollability of either runaway multiculturalism or runaway racism as a response to multiculturalism, etc. 

But most importantly, the main point of the genre is always about globalization (that is, change that we cannot control (not that we have ever had much control)) and something fundamental about the nature of humanity which can only be seen in the most extreme of circumstances.  And part of this is genocide, bigotry, and that switch that turns off for SO many of us when culture no longer plays a part in keeping us in check – the narcissistic or sociopathic switch (BECAUSE WE ALL HAVE IT – don’t believe me?  I can give you SO many scientific and experimental sources on this).  Too much culture and we kill (Nazis) and too little culture and we kill (there are too many examples to list, but the Old West of the USA is a good example).  It's the same thing as that old Durkheimian study, and which, though wrong in some ways, was right on this point – too much culture and we commit suicide (officers in the military) and too little culture and we commit suicide (teen homosexuals and those others in isolation for whatever reason).

And last and not least – what is the zombie genre really “about”?  It is about chewing gum.  No seriously, chewing gun.  Remember in school when you wanted to chew gum in class but they wouldn’t let you?  Everyone wanted to chew gum and you couldn’t.  And what was the, totally reasonable, reason you were forbidden?  Because someone always, ALWAYS, will spit it on the floor or put it under a desk for you to find later.  Zombies and so many fears, including most political fears and economic fears, etc., come from the totally reasonable fear that someone will just ruin it for everyone.  There is always some jerk.  And what do you do about it?  Really?

Last and seriously not least, and to bring it all home – and the most basic “thing” that zombie movies are “about” – it's about westerners confronting death.  We are utterly protected from the messiness and gruesomeness of death.  Both of dying and of the dead body.  A person who passes out because they encounter blood?  This is a VERY recent thing in the annals of human history.  Again, here, I would like to mention the death penalty and it's evolution over time.  Phil Smith.  Punishment and Culture.  It's so good.  Read it!

David – I would really like for you to chime in here because I know you are writing a paper…

A last point, thinking even more sociologically about my current circumstances…Why do they think that Rwandese are “naturally” obedient?  To a large extent, they are.  It's a giant Milgram experiment.  I mentioned before about believing so strongly in science.  Don’t think you aren’t in the SAME situation.  If you believe that science is an authority, and if you know that scientific “knowledge” changes all the time, then try to understand that racism was an utterly “scientific” theory.  That the Hamitic principle regarding the Hutu and Tutsi was supported by science.  Everywhere are uniforms with the authority of skin color and guns and language telling them, with authority, to do things.  Even if those things are really, really bad, they do them, the same as Americans.  Here, the race ideology spoke with so much authority.

Side note: for those that don’t know, the Hamitic principle argues that those with lighter skin in Rwanda and elsewhere must have come from an Arabic origin and were lighter skinned and therefore “better”.  This is what, first, the Germans, and then and even more conspicuously, the Belgians did in Rwanda.  They divided people up by wealth and by looks.  If you had more cows or a “longer” head or a longer nose or lighter skin or straighter hair, you were Tutsi.  If you were darker, etc, then you were Hutu.  And they set the new “Tutsi” up to rule.

A last word (I know, I know, I keep saying “last”), if you didn’t enjoy reading about the true nature of people being shot or strangled or bludgeoned or hacked to death, is that you should always be suspicious of any claim or ideology:

1.     That makes claims based on anything “natural” or “essential”.  If you hear this, your Spidey senses should already tingle because you are hearing evil.

2.     That draws lines between people and says that one is better, particularly on the basis of being “natural”.  Just look at all these lines, carving like a machete through the flesh of humanity: women/men, black/white, religion/religion, religion/atheism or agnosticism, young/old, poor/rich, capitalist/communist, LGBTQ/heteronormative (or “straight”), fat/thin, healthy/sick, crazy/sane, and the list just goes on and on and on in a straight line of dead bodies from the beginning of civilization to what I suspect will be the end.

On a similar to my comment about the normal range of human physiological variation and slightly more upbeat note:  just think, science has recently found that it would take no more than 1,000 years for an isolated racial community with white skin supplanted to equatorial Africa to turn black and no more for a similar community of dark skinned people to move to, say, Norway, to turn white.  Take that science you…um…science!

Again, on a similar and this time on a terribly serious and totally silly note:  you should all read this compelling anthropological study of a little known tribe in the Western hemisphere here:


It's short and to the point and really interesting.

And if you don’t get the joke, or if you do, you should read (but only after you read the PDF you dork!) this Wikipedia article explanation:


I wanted to end up with a few zombie memes, but there are literally thousands of truly hilarious ones.  So, no contest about it.  If you have some time to waste, just look it up on Google images.  Otherwise, here are the immediate contenders:

 
 
 
 


If these images look bad and if I have less and of lesser quality than I would like, imagine my frustration at spending an hour trying to post a post that was already written!  Internet sucks today.

Friday, November 1, 2013

On Eating Pillows and Lions and Narnia and Boogers


A friend of mine recently told me that reading my blog was surreal.  I couldn’t figure out why so I asked.  They said that Africa is like an unreal place.  I might as well be in Narnia!  This made me laugh out loud.  It's true, even I feel that way.  I might as well be…although fortunately there is no snow queen but there is also no Aslin or fauns.  Man, I want some fauns in my life.  I sort of wish I was a faun.  In my mind, at different times of the year, my husband is a faun.  Goat is his nickname anyway.  But I think it I were a faun I would be so unsteady on my feet and wouldn’t ever fall down like him.

Where I am is more aptly described by this first of all viral web videos from many years ago.  It still absolute cracks me up, though I would never forget Norway, there are lions here.  But no tigers as I am not actually in Kenya but just very near it:


Some people like this viral better:


18 million views!  Can you believe the amount of time wasted?  Although I think lions is better.

But enough about Narnia (are you hearing this Josh?).

It's been a few days since Nicole left and the Germans don’t live here anymore and the peacecorp worker is working on peacecorp things somewhere.  I feel lonely.  I am working as fast as I can at work to get it done as quickly as possible.  I have to buy more equipment this weekend, if I can, to facilitate that.  Every day that I lose with only what I have is another day I have to stay here.  And, those Narnia is great, it's not home (what I really mean is that there are no fauns).

Side note: with all the carbs here I am going to be diabetic soon.

A note on work:  the Gacaca videos are strangely tastefully done, they list the cast of characters at the beginning (the perpetrator or accused and often the judges as well), plus music and titles at the beginning.  This completely goes against the lazy image of Rwandans.  The name of the production company is Hope media productions.  Remember, the S on superman means hope in his opinion, not truth justice and all that.  That was really, really deep, the Superman / Gacaca comparison, btw, I hope you take time to think about it.

The other day my friend made me some food that is the best thing I have ever had.  Or, two of the best things I have ever had.  First, you take some mystery meat.  Rwandans seem to have no idea how to cut meat or their culture of butchery is quite different from muzungu tastes.  I have some ideas about this, but, what they do is apparently chop at totally random angles so everything is connected to lots of fat, in fact a particular piece might just be a large piece of gristle and fat and therefore, to me, completely inedible.  Also, the bone are attached and sometimes cut across exposing the marrow.  The last strange thing about Rwandan beef and chickens are that cows and chickens are, first and foremost, prized for what they produce: milk and eggs.  The result is that, as has largely been the case for most of human historical animal husbandry, that the meat is dark and impossibly tough.  But also really textured and full of flavor from a natural diet and a non-stressful life spent actually using their muscles instead of the way we think of American meats.  If you would like to try to experience the different, go to your local organic food store or food co-op and actually buy the expensive chicken.  While it will not be gamey and tough like the meat her, it will be a great deal darker, it will have less odor, it will be more moist, and it will taste better.

While I think eating this Rwandan meat is sometimes nice and sometimes utterly repulsive, there is one major and undeniably genius effect.  Rwandans eat meat mostly in sauces with vegetables and spices that are cooked down for a while.  The result, from cooking the meat and fat and gristle and bone and marrow, is such a delicious sauce that it bears noting for future reference.  It always makes me wonder, the poorest of the world get the least quality cuts of meat and the least quality animals that they come from.  For instance, fajitas!  And then white people steal the idea and ruin it.  One major downside to this method is that the sauce is full of little bits of bone.  You have to just pull them out of your mouth.

There are a great deal of different vegetables and spices you can use in the sauce, but my particular favorite is dodo.  You heard me: DODO.  Pronounced just like it is written, but the consonants in Kinyarwandan are more delicate than our Germanic mouths.  Dodo is basically a stunted or strangle looking version of spinach.  It just grows wild here.  It's a thing that I would never think to eat.  They chop it up small, stems and all, and put it in the sauce to boil in the flavors.  I hadn’t thought that maybe I was running low on iron or something, but the moment I tasted this meat sauce dodo concoction, I was HOOKED.

Last, oh divinity of divinities:  you put the whole sauce over cooked and smashed plantains or cooking bananas, which is OK, or you put it over the most luxurious, strangest food of the Rwandan gods that is cassava “bread”.  You take cassava flour and boil it with water and stir and stir until it becomes a thing that seems like a giant pot of the stickiest glue in the world.  In a word, stir until it seems like maybe you shouldn’t eat it.  That’s when it is just right.  And cassava is like my new favorite texture.  The trick is, it, again, is TOTALLY repellent on its own.  It NEEDS the meat and vegetables like no starch has ever needed it before.  And then it is a big gluey ambrosia.  It's almost impossible to cut and don’t touch it whatever you do!  Because you will never get it off of you.  It sticks to the spoon and the plate.  You have to drench it in the sauce to get it to unstick.

According to Rwandan culture and also my personal experience, you can never eat cassava for lunch.  You must eat it for dinner because, in addition to feeling like you are eating a big gooey cloud, you are basically eating a big sticky metaphoric pillow.  Nothing has ever put me to sleep as fast as cassava bread.  I am going to make this when I get home because the idea that my husband has never tried such a delectable carb makes me cry.

 

Totally weird ending to this blog, and probably more information than I really ready to share or that you are ready to hear:

The very best part of every day is when I get home in the evening and go to the room and take a piece of tissue and then in absolute privacy I pick my nose.  Why is this news?  Because, though there is emissions testing here and rain, they do almost nothing to combat the really severe dust clouds and totally black, thick, choking smog (lol, I almost typed Smaug, how is that for nerdiness?) that I encounter on the roads here every day.  Seriously, one has to shield their eyes otherwise they will be sandblasted in the windy heat of midday when a truck or moto or car or whatever drives by!  My eyes, additionally, are usually field with protected but disgusting goo as well.  The idea with the totally useless emissions testing in Rwanda is twofold:

1.     If you really, really emissions tested and took all the smog monsters off the road, nothing would get anywhere in Rwanda.  They cannot support it yet.

2.     What is the point then?  Well, they are getting people used to the idea of emissions testing.  First, it creates jobs.  Second, in the future as the country can afford more, based on its testing of the companies operating here, it will put the smackdown on smog.  Rwanda in environmentally aware but too poor to do anything about it just yet.

So, why do I enjoy picking my nose?  Over the course of the day, I breathe in so much smog and dust and it's really dry here.  So in the evening I pull blackened hardened hell out of my nose.  Why don’t I do this before?  First, there are no public bathrooms anywhere and no toilet paper or paper towels, generally, in the private bathrooms I am allowed to use in the course of the day.  Second, I am muzungu.  Therefore, EVERYONE is STARING at me all the time.  I look in front, to the side, behind me, and there are bright eyes in dark faces point at me ALL THE TIME.  Can you imagine that?

If this seems too personal or uncouth, perhaps you shouldn’t read my blog.  The idea of looking forward to picking your nose is both personal and sociological and this is exactly what my blog advertised.  Do you have issues with manners?  I can point you to a really great socio-history of the evolution of Western manners.  Thank the French (the Sun King in particular) and the increasing, over the whole of humanity, accumulation of wealth among a smaller portion of society for ridiculous rules regarding shame and bodily functions.  You can read a synopsis here in one of my (fabulous really) lectures for first and second years in this Prezi presentation of one of my lectures:

Um…actually, I have this really great Prezi lecture, but it only makes sense alongside my lecture notes – which are not with me in Rwanda.  If you want to know more, you can look up stuff like Norbert Elias, his book The Civilizing Process, and it's first and most important volume for these purposes: The History of Manners.  Perhaps in the future I can post something about these manners and stuff.

Oh, you don’t want to learn something?  You just wanted to read a blog?  Well, what did you think you were doing with this blog?  My father used to say, albeit fatalistically as was his way, “The moment you stop learning you might as well be dead.”

Look, all I’m saying is that most things are made up…including what we think is appropriate to post for all to see FOREVER on the internet.  (You can tell I care or I wouldn’t have spent this long and even brought up evidence justifying my position.)
And the winners for best nose picking online photos, in my humble opinion, go to, in this order:








 

 

One last, and totally inappropriate given the last topic, side note.  One of most  Rwandese’s favorite food is chips = French fries.  They are huge and fat and generally served with some sort of “salad” (more on that some other time but it consists usually of tomatoes and onions and mayonnaise) and a meat brochette (grilled hard as rock but tasty meat of some variety on a stick).  This is served with mayonnaise first and ketchup second.

In another related, you’ll see in a second, issue, I bought, at extremely heavy expense and to share with Nicole while she was here, olive oil and balsamic vinegar.  Dinah asked me what this was for?  I told her for salad dressing.  Tonight, after the last time we ate chips and I was excited for the salt, my friend made me a salad with onion and tomato and balsamic and olive dressing and…the absolute, no kidding, BEST chips I have ever eaten.  It would be a shame to put any sauce on them.  I love my friend (you have heard of her before, btw), she is very good to me.

 

P.S Why were the chips that best?  Rwandese potatoes?  Or Rwandese heart?  Can't tell.

Wednesday, October 30, 2013

Dysentery Be Gone


OMG I am so excited.  After four weeks of waiting today was my first real day of work.  I found a buffet to eat at nearby, for 2,500 francs you get the whole buffet, but it is only one plate.  A fact I have been warned about repeatedly here.  So, it was a bit more expensive.  Tomorrow I will bring my lunch and hope the lousy Tupperware I found wont spill all over my backpack.  Also, I have a sunburn because I got off at the wrong stop and it was all very difficult.  I am now having beers about it.

I am going to have to buy more equipment in order to make this work in the time allotted.  It has really hurt me to be waiting for over four weeks, but, I suppose I know a GREAT deal more about Rwandan culture as a result.

Additionally, I no longer have dysentery.  Also, I am sure, because I took the medicine to deal with it and it worked, that I actually had dysentery.

Other stuff:  a friend of mine, a Rwandan, recently told me a story explain why she loves muzungu.  She calls it the tea bag analogy.  First, she recounted the story of how her mother was very sick for a long time.  Everyone thought she had HIV and this made my friend really, really sad.  She saved money and then took her mother to a doctor in her province.  This Rwandan doctors, she says, did a few tests and couldn’t figure it out and then said that her mother must have HIV and she should try to get the medicines for it if she could ever afford it.  This sent my friend into a depression.  After a while, as she was so sad and pondering the state of things, she decided that because her mother showed none of the signs of the other people she knew with HIV that she must seek another answer.  She remembered this analogy…wait for the rest of the personal story before I tell you the punch line…jeez.

So, she decided to borrow, beg, and, no not steal, she is a good person, for the money and took her mother on a bus to the big hospital in another region where all of the muzungu doctors are.  Once there, she told the doctors that she didn’t have much money but she would be willing to pay anything for the answer.  So, the muzungu doctors began testing.  Then my friend ran out of money.

Seriously.  Don’t we know how that feels.

The muzungu doctors decided to keep testing anyway because the problem had become a personal challenge.  After a few days, they found that her mother had some atypical symptoms for the relatively common and dreaded but totally treatable TB.  6 years later, my friend’s mom is doing very well and grows her own beans, etc. (but see below for more on beans).

Ok, now for the punchline:  the tea bag analogy for muzungu.  My friend told me why she knew that muzungu would help her.  She said it was because of tea bags.  The tea bags in Rwanda are stronger than the ones I have used in the USA.  If you pour boiling water on it, you should really have a large cup.  But even if you don’t, you can just keep using the bag.  You can get one REALLY strong cup, one relatively weak cup, and one pretty weak cup from the same tea bag.  My friend says that she knows this too because the only people in Rwanda that do this with tea bags are muzungu.  Rwandese (I recently found that the people (abantu is the word, remind you of Ubuntu?  It should) themselves prefer this term over Rwandan and I will now make an effort to use it).  Anyway, Rwandese throw the bag away after the first use.  My friend says this is because of the peculiar character of those from the West.  Though there are some real disadvantages in our attitudes, she remarks, she tells me that it is only muzungu who keep trying on principle, regardless of money.  My friend tells me that she respects this quality above all, even though it's weird and muzungu seem to drink more and have more problems, she says, than Rwandese, but for this reason, she has for 6 years and will now always love muzungu, because these tea bag milking freaks saved her mother.

I love this so much.  I have already remarked upon the common belief that Rwandese are “naturally” obedient people.  And, believe me, I will have more to say about it in the future.  But, this begs many important sociological questions as the peacecorp worker I live with recently pointed out:

Peacecorp friend’s point of view – the buses in Kigali are REALLY irrational.  They have X amount of seats.  Nonetheless, they will seat ZZZZZZZ amount of people.  This is irrational because the buses are really cheap.  If they didn’t all crowd onto the bus, unsafely I might add, because I would add that, then there would be more demand for buses and more people would be employed, less people would get hurt, etc.

But, the truth is, that Rwandese have been “making do” for the unforeseeable future since the unforeseeable past.  I sympathize with them.  But as a person who was already using my tea bags at least twice before I was told either of these stories, culture shock is a bitch.

Other updates:  Nicole left yesterday.  I miss her already.  She was a kindred spirit both academically and in our hearts, I believe.  I really hope that she enjoys her Halloween (which Rwandese have never heard of and think is crazy except when I told them the origin that it was to get evil spirits away, and then it made sense to them but they would still never do it).

On beans, as I mentioned before.  This is the hottest and nonrainiest rainy season anyone here can remember.  Apart from the drought, yesterday there was a storm that was strong enough that it reminded me, and prompted me to tell nostalgically, of many Texas hitting hurricanes.  Hey BNL, remember those exploding transforming and that awning that seemed to want to fly away?  Remember what got us the vantage point?  What a weird thing to do.  I would do it again.

Anyway, almost everyone is talking here about global warming.  It really seems that more Rwandese believe in it than Americans.  This is funny.  When people say that everything in Africa is different, that everything is backwards, it's in ways that you don’t think of.  Like believing in science, for heaven’s sake.  I have much more to say about believing in science, but I think that is for another post.

On this point of believing things and backwardness though, I was recently told that Rwandese, especially educated Rwandese, believe that the Illuminati are controlling the world.  When I asked the peacecorp worker about this, because she has been here for three years, she starting laughing hysterically and told me that there are a few people I should, first, buy a beer for and, second, should ask about the illuminati to.  I intend to do so.  Anyway, the Rwandese believe in the illuminati.  If I manage to take her advice I promise not to forget to tell you.

Another random tidbit:  when a Rwandese friend of mine and I went to the local store recently, I got a bottle of water.  She carried it for me.  I took it from here and said, it's ok I think I can handle this water.  I’m not so weak.  The local women hanging out in the store said a bunch of things to my friend on the way out.    After we were out of the store, my friend told me that they were telling her she was crazy for not carrying the big bottle for me.  Here it is REALLY taboo not to carry things for people older than you.  Get that?  OLDER.  I am exactly 3 years older than my friend and feel, based on our life circumstance, both 10 years younger and 20 years older than her.  But seriously, do I really look that much older?

My friend told me that Rwandese can't tell how older muzungu are.  It's because we are white.  I laughed and told her many important scientists have argued this problem in the USA, that, first, we cannot tell other races apart and second, that we cannot tell how old they are.  She assured me that in a line up a Rwandese would know it was me and not someone else (I think that is because I am the ONLY muzungu that lives in this area apart from my constantly moving housemates) except that they just cannot tell how old I am.  This raises an interesting point:

People in the USA think I am blond now.  I feel defensive about this.  My hair is grey (my husband would chime in here and say SILVER!) but it was different shades of auburn beforehand and I was teased as a child for being a ginger.  Thus, I am defensive about being blond.  But, here in Rwanda, everyone KNOWS that I am silver haired.  Some think it is really, really “smart”, as in cool or pretty.  But others think it must mean that I am a good deal older than I am.

This mixes together with the competing views of my weight, though that will have to wait for another post.  I think I am going to wrap up here now.  If most of my days go like today, I will be tired and not working in the evenings which should give me more time to blog if I feel like it.  Additionally, if after I grade this evening, I feel like it then I may blog more.

Hey you guys, remember that time I was stuck in Rwanda for four weeks with dysentery?  Yeah.  That happened.  I think I am cooler now, in a world citizen sort of way.

Wednesday, October 23, 2013

Why Can’t I Keep up with my Posting Schedule?


I don’t know…

Some updates:

I am annoyed and bordering on depression for two reasons:  first, it has been three weeks since I got here and I have yet to get to work.  I am still waiting.  Every day there is a new reason why I have to wait.  This means I am waiting by my email.  This means I can't really leave or do anything like explore the city, which is difficult to do by yourself anyway.

Second, I am pretty sure that I have dysentery.  That’s right.  Dysentery.  The last week I was pretty sick.  And it's funny, it's really common here to get it so people have no compunctions about speaking about it.  I said to Agnes, I have been sick.  She said, oh you have your period?  I said no.  She said, oh you have diarrhea?  Yes.  Yes I do.  It's common place to speak about your bowel functioning.  Often, depending on exactly the reason for your dysentery, it goes away on it's own.  And I have always had a lot of stomach issues.  But, if it will go away it is meant to last about a week.  The last few days I have been feeling a lot better, less fatigue and I am hungry again (I weighed myself and actually I have lost 10 pounds in three weeks).  But I give tomorrow as the deadline.  If I am not feeling better, I will go to the local pharmacy and I will buy Flagyla, the three day antibiotic that is meant to clear up amoebic or bacterial dysentery (virul has to just run it's course) for about 2,000 francs or three dollars.  That’s right, it's over the counter and it's three dollars!  Alas, there are no photos to share concerning this experience.

Next, updates on the animal farm that is the guest house:

Archie no longer lives here.

Sofya moved out and I moved into her room so I have wifi in my room now, when the power isn’t out that is.

Katie is leaving for 10 days to go to South Africa for something and is usually only here about two days a week anyway.

Nicole is still here and we have been really thick together for the last week and a half, hanging out a lot and sticking together when we leave the house.  It's been really nice to have her around and our theoretical backgrounds are similar and we are having some of the same research issues.  We have started to come up with a list…see the end of this post for that list…anyway, she will be leaving on the 26th or something.

There is supposed to be an older muzungu gentlemen moving in right as Nicole leaves.  I am interested to meet him and find out his story.

Keksy: is doing much better and getting fatter all the time.  She is a pain in the ass though.  She gets caught around bushes and trees and it's difficult to get her untangled because she freaks out about anything having to do with the collar.  Recently, Glenn received an email from a person living in the house, no one knows who it is, saying that the dog cannot stay because of the trouble and the smell and the concern for the bunnies, though she seems really uninterested in them.  So…

Heike and Martin are moving out this Friday with Keksy to a place that will have her.  They are still deciding whether or not she will join them in Germany/Austria and it will mostly be based on the expense.  We are waiting to hear back from my husband about phone numbers to call to find out or when they have time to go to the airport to try to find out.  But finding a nonstop flight from Kigali to Germany is difficult.  Anyway, waiting on Keksy’s fate still.

BUNNIES!  So, originally we thought there were five baby bunnies because they were all piled in so tight together.  One of them died and so we thought there were four.  Now, they are getting pretty adorable.  They are thriving, it seems, and they are growing hair and their ears are distinguishable and their eyes are open. And…there are 6 of them.  That will be a total of 9 bunnies in the compound.  Who knows how this will turn out.  This I have pictures of…
This was from a few days before when their eyes were barely opening and with cabbage for their mum in the cage.



This is a few days later when their eyes are really opening, they have more fur, and their ears are up.  See, no longer grody.

And this is from just the day after the last photo, when we built a "pin" or circular barrier out of chairs and rugs and plates and things and pet them and let them run about a bit.  This is Heike.

Me.

Heike and Nicole.

Martin with huge hands and tiny bunny.


I also have a video....but it is just too big and there is no uploading progress bar so I have no idea how far along it is.  Maybe when I have a smaller one I will post it.
 
I have now also been, at least, to the Gacaca archive.  I can't tell you where it is but it's living in a police compound, high security, lots of AK47s.  The best way to describe the almost two million cases is…

Have you seen Raiders of the Lost Ark?  Remember at the very end when they store the Ark in a box and then the guy wheels it into a warehouse that is full of infinity boxes all holding, what you can only imagine, are equally esoteric, magical, and precious objects…that is what it looks like.  It just goes on forever.  Except the boxes are all of uniform size and they are stacked on top of one another in rows instead of on shelves.


 

On Saturday we went to the city center to shop at the big more western style grocery store called Nakumatt.  It is much more like a western grocery store only with less stuff in the grocery department, not as many options, and also with lots of other stuff like clothes and toys and furniture and appliances and a hardware department.

We have been concerned that Keksy is not getting enough protein but the dog food is really expensive.  I thought that I might donate a bag of better dog food or, in the event that it really is too expensive, buy a chicken and boil it and give her the meat.  But…there is no better dog food.  The dog food doesn’t even have meat in it.  And a whole chicken was just as expensive as the giant bag of non-meat dog food.  So, no luck there.  She will keep living on a diet heavy in cheese and milk on top of her normal potatoes, avocadoes, and rice.

The bus ride there cost 200 francs, like 25 cents or something, and was completely packed and smelly and lasted for half an hour.  Also, I really hate being in moving vehicles in Kigali.  Back on the sides of hills barreling downwards at what seems to me a million miles an hour in a vehicle too heavy with squealing breaks with a drop off right on the side of me.  I felt like we were all going to die.

Just in case you think I am crazy to be afraid of moving vehicles, when Nicole went with D to another memorial site, they came across an accident.  Remember, the roads in the country are on the sides of mountains so there is a cliff on one side and a deep ditch on the other side against the mount.  There was a big truck just right sitting right across the road and another car, a smaller car, that was unrecognizable crushed into a cube by this truck.  D asked the police what happened, the police said that ALL died.  That the car was full of people and they ALL died.  And if they hadn’t died on impact, they probably would have had injuries too severe and hospitals are so far away and without the latest tech and skills.  This terrifies me.

So, we arrive and walk about 10 minutes to Nakumatt from the bus stop.  Downtown there were many many more muzungu.  Right now I live in a village and this village doesn’t have that many so we are more of a novelty.  But downtown there are more.  Even thought there are more, we are still stared at only now people are asking for money and asking if we want to buy phone time for Tigo and phone time for MTN and phone time for Airtel and then all over again and do we want a taxi or a moto, etc. 

We saw a sort of parade of cars and trucks and buses with people on top and hanging out the windows all blowing those big annoying horns that are such a problem at sporting events now and whose name I cannot remember.  Their faces were painted whitish and looked scary, like they were meant to look scary.  We think they were going to an important Rwandan sporting game somewhere because when we got back on the bus they were playing, loudly, what sounded like a sports announcer.  I wish I could imitate it for you.  If I thought it wouldn’t take an hour to do, I would record myself imitating it and post it here for your amusement.  The announcer was squealing and undulating and letting is voice rise and fall over really long periods and then fall away until there was no air left in his lungs.  It was funny.

I took one photo of the building that Nakumatt is in, it is Kigali tower, the tallest building in Kigali, and it is on the ground floor.

This was a photo I took from the bus stop of another bus.  This bus is larger than the one I was on, I think this is an express from the countryside.
 

It's funny, while waiting for the checkout, I noticed some adverts for upcoming movies.  I was wondering if they have those funny names that often times happens when a movie title in English is translated to another language and then retranslated to English again and turns out differently.  But the movie is titled Runner Runner.  I looked it up, apparently that is the title of the movie.  Funny.

OK, I said I would give you a list, that will be for another time because I find that I am not posting so much because I am trying to post too much at a time.  Tomorrow maybe.

Friday, October 18, 2013

Rwanda Inc or Sustainable Rwanda

Some things I left out of the Nyarubuye trip that were interesting and mostly on the way back and then some other things related…mostly about alimentation:

First, rabbits and fish.

This is a photo of the fish farms now being cultivated throughout Rwanda.  They build these fish farms, then they put rabbits in cages over them.  The idea is that you feed the rabbits, the rabbits poo into the fish farm, the fish eat the rabbit poo.  Then Rwandans can eat both the rabbits and fish as they feed and multiply.  It's pretty awesome.  There are lots of these from some aid workers being created in the DRC and now they are moving into Rwanda.  I think it's an excellent idea.

 
Second, Imigongo or Kakira.

This is the sign of the Imigongo making company on the way back from Nyarubuye.  We stopped there with Nicole and D to look at them.  They are paintings made from the raw pigmentation materials around Rwandans and are pretty ubiquitous in Africa.  The reds are made from the red of the soil, the whites are made from the white clay deposits that can be found around, and the deep deep blacks are made from burning bananas and then taking the ashes and mixing that with aloe juice.  Imigongo are the names of the pieces of art and Kakira is the name of the process.  They used to be made from the hide of cows stretched and then scraped into shapes and patterns and then painted upon with the pigments.  This creates a three dimensional painting.  This is how they came to be called imigongo which means “back” in Kinyarwandan (from the back of the cow).  But now they are put on sanded boards or particle board which are then sculpted onto with clay and baked and then painted.

After the genocide, many groups of women got together to start making different things that were part of traditional Rwandan culture, papyrus woven baskets and these paintings, in order to keep the pride of their culture alive and also to begin to make money for themselves while selling to others around them and also to tourists.  Most Rwandans have at least one of these types of designs on the walls of their house, there are two in my room, and lots and lots of things have designs similar to them.  Most of us can imagine the designs associated with Africa and they are outrageous and brazen and look deeply deeply modern except that they almost always use red and white and black, and sometimes yellow from flowers.  That is why they have this preference for these colors.  Because they are easy to get and make into paints.

The proprietor of this company took us through the workshop to show us things in various stages of completion.  It was really interesting.  A large group of children was standing on tiptoes to peer in the windows at the muzungu there in the middle of Rwandan nowhere.
 
Here is the wiki article on it:
 
This is the entrance to the cooperative:
 
 
 
This is traditional looking imigongo:
 


 
and this is more modern imigongo:
 

 


Next, Girinka or One Cow One Family.  I was recently made aware of this program, Girinka, which aims to give one cow to one family at or below the poverty level in Rwanda sometime between 2010 and 2015.  It will total about 350,000 cows given out and they have already given out 100,000.  So, here is the way the program works.  They find a family that is so poor that they do not have any cows and the children are suffering from malnutrition.  There is lots of food in Rwanda, everyone grows something, but it, in almost every case, is carbohydrates.  There is not very much protein to go around.  If you do not give a child protein, even if they have enough calories to eat, this is very bad and is malnutrition.  So, they give this family a female cow.  The family is then getting milk from the cow.  Cows here give up to 5 liters a day of milk.  That is a LOT of milk.  Then, the cow gives manure.  This manure is made into fertilizer which is put on the crops so they no longer have to buy fertilizer.  And cows give a lot of fertilizer.  The cows eat papyrus leaves and other things that can be found all over the country and is free and grows like weeds.  So, now the crops are better.  Then, the family will try to find another family with a bull and breed the cow.  The first female calf that is born from this free cow must be given to a neighbor.  That neighbor will now have a cow that will grow up to give milk and fertilizer and then will have a female calf that will be given to another neighbor.  This happens relatively quickly.

The outcomes have been outstanding so far.  Here are the effects:

1.     Cow are really important to Rwandans culturally.  They are the preeminent sign of wealth.  Apart from what they give, Rwandans really like cows and they immediately raise the pride and social standing of a household.  This is one of the reasons that over 90% of the cows in the country were also slaughtered during the genocide, the killing of the wealth and pride of other families.

2.     Second, the pride maintains because even though the family was given the cow in a sort of bizarre welfare agricultural state model, they then have to work hard to get the benefits of having the cow.  So the pride maintains.

3.     The entire family now drinks milk and is no longer malnourished.  They drink so much milk, in fact, that the incidence of typhoid dysentery goes down because they drink less water.

4.     The entire family now eats better because they grow bigger and better crops because of the fertilizer.  Eventually, they can grow more than they can eat and they begin to supplement their income with this extra crop in a country with a year round growing season.

5.     The entire process increases both reconciliation, community involvement, and the quality of life of the entire area through a few different mechanisms:

a.     5 liters a day is really a lot.  Rwandans also have very large extended families who generally live nearby.  Whenever their cousin or neighbor or friend comes over they are also drinking milk.  Their health is also getting better.

b.     5 liters a day is really really a lot. First, as soon as the cow begins to produce milk, the family is able to sell the extra milk.  This is even more income for the family.  Second, as more and more neighbors have milk, the government has set up cooperative milk collection stations so that an entire village becomes incorporated through giving their extra milk and they now sell this to people in the city and everyone makes more money.

c.     Giving your neighbors a cow and having to cooperate in order to breed the cows fosters friendship and cooperation in the community.

d.     As all of the sociological, economic, and political scientific research shows, people who benefit directly from a social program, first and foremost, develop loyalty to that program.  But, as side effects, they develop loyalty to the regime and the state and the party and the policies and the overall idea of democracy.  Social programs increase political stability in a country where a large proportion of the population is benefiting from them (compare this to tax cuts for the rich).

I think this is about the best social program I have ever heard of.  So far, 100,000 have been given out.  And additional 50,000 females calves have been born and have been given to other families.  It's so freaking cool.  Here is an article on the idea if you want to read something more official:


 

Next, I recently read a book called Rwanda Inc.  It grew out of research that Visa was doing in Africa to try to decide which of new African country it was going to offer it's products too.  At the end of the research, it's says, the choice was exceedingly clear.  Visa is now in Rwanda – the reason I can't use my bankcard, it's a MasterCard – and is helping a lot.  The infrastructure is already there, Rwanda has been running fiber optics for almost a decade throughout the country.  So Visa is cooperating with all three banks operating in Rwanda now.  They are also in cooperation with all three major cell phone companies where you electronically send money to people.  This is particularly important because travel costs are high.  So, everyone, and I do mean everyone, in this country has a cell phone.  There ARE no landlines.  But even the poorest family in the country has a cellphone.  So, when a member of the family is the one that everyone gives money to in order to afford the boarding and university school fees, that person moves to the city to get a good job where he/she is making a great deal more than the rest of the family.  The agreement is then to help the family.  So this person can choose to take an expensive and time consuming trip back to the family and bring cash, or they can just transfer funds to the people via cellphone.  Anyway, those are some of the things that Visa is doing in Rwanda.

If you want to check out the book, look at this:


More importantly, back to the content of the book.  The forward is from the CEO of Visa and it is saying that Rwanda is ready for lots of foreign direct investment.  The book reads like a love story constantly praising this and that social or economic program or policy of the Rwandan government but particularly praising “CEO” or President Kagame for running his country like a successful startup business.  At first the book is repetitive and doesn’t provide much evidence, but by the end I am starting to feel more convinced as I am seeing in print the words for all of what I am seeing on the ground.  Rwanda is developing and quickly.  So, after reading this book, I looked up a few reviews.  One was from the Boston Globe:


This review makes some good points, but it also makes a silly Western mistake.  It argues, “However, Crisafulli and Redmond fail to persuade on the economic viability of a country in which subsistence agriculture supports 80 percent of the population…”

In response I say, first, Rwanda has made the infinitely wise choice to avoid the catastrophes of so many STILL developing or underdeveloped nations by not getting in debt to the World Bank and not following the totally obscene policy and budget strictures WB places on its debtor countries.

Second, subsistence agriculture supporting 80% of the population makes it sound as if the country is in abject poverty.  The truth is, that 80% of the population eats its own crops and then sells the rest to those without farms in the city.  It is a nation of farmers and it feeds its non farming population by itself.  It does not have to trade for food.  So, why is that bad?  It does not have to exchange the nothing it has, or rum and tobacco and coffee for instance in the case of so many Latin American countries, for a bad trade in rotten beef.  Rwanda feeds itself.  Why is that bad?  Additionally, almost all of the farming practices here are increasingly, and in some ways always were from traditional farming practices, sustainable and organic.  The small amount of land that it does use to cultivate the components of coffee and beer are considered some of the best in the world, gain boutique prices on the international market, and are almost always certified fair trade to smaller growers.

And this was all planned.

Rwanda still has a long way to go, but way to go Rwanda Inc for planning infrastructure from the bottom up, for wanting to make it itself, and for neither a lender nor a debtor being.  Otherwise, of course, Rwanda still receives a lot of aid.  But this aid does not end up in the pockets of corrupt politicians, is not used to cultivate big agribusiness to ship silly things long distances to people who can already grow tomatoes or whatever, and for using this aid to, as quickly as possible, feed itself.

That saying that libertarians are so fond of…give a man a fish and he eats for a day, but teach a man to fish…

Well, Rwanda seems to be teaching itself to fish.

 

More on this topic of food.  Heike and Martin and I made a pizza from scratch over the weekend.  It had the local gouda cheese, dough from scratch, tomatoes, more tomatoes, and even more tomatoes in the sauce and on the pizza, onions, oyster mushrooms and then, after the pizza was cooked, minced garlic rolled in olive oil layered the top of the pizza.  It was divine.  Here are some photos of the process.  You do not see me because, first, I am behind the camera, and second, my job was chopping, pizza construction, and dishes and those aren’t that interesting:
Initial mixing:

 
Kneading and Marting adding flour:


Just done kneading it:

Look at how much it rose!!  Same hands!
 
 
Rolled out.


On Saturday, to get the toppings for the pizza, we split duties.  Heike and Martin went to Nakumat, the big western like grocery store nearer the capital, and Dinah, Nicole and I went to Kimironko (pronounced chimirownko).  Kimironko, if you recall, is the place on the label for the grand nuts.

The market was totally crazy.  We walked some distance to get on a bus, small, crowded, stuffy, smelly…then we got off at the market.  It's a big open warehouse looking thing that sells everything.  From the moment we walked in people were pushing and shoving us, Nicole and I, trying to get us to buy things.  On this day I was the rudest to other people that I can recall being in years.  “Oya…OYA…Murakoze…OYA!!!”  (no…NO…Thank you…NO!!!).   We bought a lot of things at very cheap prices.

Even if I could have taken pictures in the crush of people and things I would not have.  There were people everywhere and no room to walk between the large tables covered with beans and rice and vegetables of all varieties and underwear and shirts and shoes and bags…  Even on the ground, there are a few people here that I have seen that have something wrong with their legs.  Maybe polio?  But, they have small and underdeveloped legs it seems.  The more affluent often have crutches or recumbent bicycles they pedal with their hands.  But the poorer, are crawling on the ground.  There was such a person at Kimironko crawling on the ground in this crush and dragging a shopping bag full of things.

So, more on bags.  I needed a shopping bag to carry things in.  Dinah took me to her friend, btw she has friends EVERYWHERE.  The people around here are particularly nice to me, Nicole and the Germans have remarked, and they charge me less for things.  I asked Dinah if this is because she is popular.  She smiled her shy smile and giggled and said yes she thinks so.  So, she took me to her friend and showed me some bags.  I said, I wanted a nicer bag.  The nicest bag.  She took me to a different stall with another friend and showed me what she says she thinks are the nicest bags.  There are a few with all different colors and with beads of painted and rolled paper that look a little like shells around the top.  She says that she loves these.  I looked at a few, there is a yellow and blue one and a red and blue one and a green and yellow one and then also a brown and yellow and green one.  I am thinking of the green and yellow or yellow and blue.  But, I ask her which is her favorite.  She picks the brown one.  It's good that I asked her because she was admiring these bags so much.  When I leave I am going to give the bag to her as a present.

 

Monday, Heike and Martin and Nicole and I went to quiz night at Sol e Luna.  We won third place which was amazing because we felt like we didn’t know any of the answers.  It wasn’t as fun as last time but hopefully will be more fun again.  I saw the Americans and one of the Italians I met last time there.  The place, it turns out, is owned by an Italian man and his Rwandan wife.  So it is really a perfect mix of Italian recipes and Rwandan products.  Here is the one good photo I salvaged from my roll, this is of the bar and a bartender who graciously permitted me to include her.  All the staff is really nice there.  I got the same pizza I got last time, salami, and it was just as delicious.

 
A few more food items:  I got this papaya from Kimironko.  It was delicious, but as I was eating it I decided that I would like to share with you all just what I think about papaya seeds:  they are clearly evil things…just look at them… nefarious.

 
This is a country that doesn’t really eat butter.  They use oil to cook with, and not very much at that.  They use cheese on bread if they use it at all.  But mostly they use the milk.  Butter is right out.  For others who have a taste for butter, having either come from or visited for a while in the West, there is this…
 
Medium fat spread.  Ugh.  It tastes OK like a mix between butter and margarine, but the texture is weird.


Last, and on the subject of food and then also culture shock:  I am really missing home.  More on this and exactly what I miss next time, but for now, a good friend of mine told me that I was going to miss something American, whether a French fry or buffalo wings or whatever, and that when it happens I should not feel ashamed.  I was skeptical about this to begin with.  But now, 2 and a half weeks in or about 1/6 of the way through my journey, I can say that I would absolutely kill for some broccoli.

Surprisingly, there aren’t that many good memes or jokey images about broccoli.  But these three made me laugh.


I don't know who this is but it made me laugh out loud.

 

I miss broccoli.




P.S. I hope you guys really appreciate all the photos.  It is really annoying to include them.