"I will literally drink your blood!"
Sometimes I find my
work incredibly frustrating. There are a
lot of things that I could blame like poor/often non-existent educational
system or the fact that most NGOs seem to just distribute free shit making that
the assumed stereotype for foreigners in Africa. However, like with most things, a bad day at
work might just be the combination of a shitty night of sleep, French-fatigue,
and REALLY loud children constantly underfoot (there is a reason Peace Corps
Volunteers have a reputation for uncommonly locked doors… and excessive
drinking whenever they make it to a big city).
And so, on this particular day these poor villagers were undeserving of
my wrath.
I was tired and the
whole presentation on HIV and AIDS just didn't go like I wanted. I always give them in French and my
counterpart translates them into Fulfulde or Biya or just possibly just random
noises so that I'll think he's doing work.
As I've mentioned, I can usually at least follow the Fulfulde even if I
make relatively little effort in trying to speak it myself. That works well when my counterpart is on the
same page as me, translating what I say, or at least following the general
outline. Le Gros recently went to get
some special training on HIV/AIDS.
That's a good thing and his knowledge and skill at presenting is why I
work with him. But he was off on tangent
after tangent and I was just lost at the presentation I was supposed to be
giving. It's hard to know what to say
next when you don't know what was said last.
(In reality this isn't that big a deal; I can say whatever and he can
decide whether it bears repeating.) Not
the end of the world, but I was feeling dead after an hour and a half of trying
to keep up.
Then comes the
questions. These are always hit or
miss. Sometimes people just ask me to
diagnose whatever random disease afflicts them and I'm left wondering if they
were even listening to the topic. That's
a "go to the clinic/hospital; they need to do 'special' exams" which
you'll of course realize means "fuck if I know". Easy enough.
But that day… A probably lovely
old woman started to ask me where my medicine was and tell me how I need to
bring it to her and give it out to everyone for free. The fact that I understood this EXACTLY in
Fulfulde goes a ways to show you that this is often a question. I just snapped. I told her that I didn't know her. I asked her who she was that she though I
should give her free things. And then I
asked why it wasn't enough that I left my country, my family, my friends, and
my goddamn language to just try and educate her and her people. (Note: I still can't actually use profanity
in French, because they don't and I've missed out learning it. It's super annoying.) I'm guessing that my counterpart did not
translate that exactly as her next demand was that I build a clinic in her
village. In a better mood I might try to
kindly explain that not enough people even go to the clinic in Mbakaou to
justify the salaries of the three people working there. I ignored her. Next question please.
Le Gros could tell I
wasn't my best and clearly wanted to just get on the road. Good of him.
But I wasn't done and was looking to see if anything I said had sunk in. I did get to explain why having another
Sexually Transmitted Infection makes it more likely to contract HIV, but then I
was told that I was wrong and you couldn't get HIV if you weren't already
infected with something else. Now that's
a myth that needs to be rectified (also, did you say that I'M WRONG?). That got into another belief that condoms can
give you HIV. The argument went very
much downhill from there with a man telling me I needed to buy condoms from the
market and test them and me telling him I very much did not and would not. Then there was me demanding to know where he
heard this idea (I probably didn't need to ask where he read it or saw it in
this tiny town with no electricity) and telling him that whatever whiteman that
had told him this fact was a liar. It
ended with me stating, with conviction I don't actually have, that HIV could
not live outside a human body and thus could never live inside a condom to
infect anyone. I told him that if he
were to have HIV in his body right now and die, I could literally drink his
blood after five minutes and be fine. I
would like to point out that this method of education and argument was not read
from any Peace Corps provided book and thus a concoction of my own
imagination. And, finally, I left.
I would like to say
that I have absolutely no idea how long HIV can live outside the human
body. Much less how long in a warm
corpse. I would never drink the blood
of, well, anyone and definitely not someone I knew was infected. And I'm pretty sure there is someone--someone
who actually could reasonably answer questions like this--who could figure out
a way to put HIV into a condom for people to contract. I don't know why they would do this, but we
humans are awfully smart.
That was the
long. The short of it is that sometimes
being a Peace Corps Volunteer can be incredibly frustrating. And also that thousands of miles away you can
snap and come close to starting a headhunt for witches (seriously, don't tell
people you'll drink their blood). If
told to another PCV, a story like this will invariably elicit a response like,
"Yea, I have days where I want to do something like that too." "Want" of course being the key word
that differentiates my teaching style from those of my peers.
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