Maladie et moi....

Welcome back kids, for week 2 (in effect) of my bloggage. This week we’ll be visiting the Italian Embassy of Côte d’Ivoire, getting yelled at by a Bacca driver, catching CAF fever, meeting toffee Englishmen at opening ceremonies, dodging cringeworthy corny lines about our eyes, and finally sorting out internet issues – to name but a few of the ensuing adventures. Please, sit down, grab a (potable) jug of water and join me...

Ooh, which makes for an excellent place to begin. I found out for sure and for certain that yes, I have been drinking rebottled water, and yes, it is perfectly safe – as I am yet to get sick from it, and indeed everyone around me is fine too. In fact, the above mentioned Englishman told me that they did some sort of UN water testing study when there was a toxic leak into the supply in 2006, and they found that the water here is far superior to that of many European countries. I guess that should come as no real surprise, afterall we were warned not to go near the water in Italy and Greece on Contiki back in the day, and I reckon it tastes heaps more betterer than the crap they call water in Germany (no offence Deutsche readers... if ye do exist... )... plus Armidale water wouldn’t have a prayer in comparison...

But enough about ze water. A bit about the opening ceremony I mentioned, perhaps... The AIESEC Cocody club has recently had a much needed facelift, and now looks pretty spiffy, including new computers, fresh paint, desks and cabinets and such, and last but infinitely not least, an air-conditioning unit :D The refurbished digs is courtesy of some local businessfolk, possibly an NGO as well (the whole explanation I was given was in French, so there are holes), and significantly this French woman who has been here some 14 years was pretty involved (I had a quick chat to her and was surprised to find her a little patronizing – “I mean, zey could have done some scrubbing ‘ere and zere to make zeh place nicer, but zey just don’t think! I’m doing my best to teach zem...” out of politeness I neglected to suggest that perhaps they had more important things on their minds than scrubbing walls – like organizing projects to help those less fortunate...). This being Côte d’Ivoire there was a fairly lavish opening ceremony on Saturday morning, which, having been to another ceremony for a different but similar organization the night before, I was not terribly keen on. (Actually the one the night before featured some amazing dancing performance, as well as a parade of fantastic outfits, some of which I took pics, and will include here – it was just that it dragged on for the non-Francophiles in the audience. Which I’m pretty sure was just me.) This ceremony, however, was done pretty quick, and was good times. They did what they call a “rollcall” (another AIESEC thing) which I was invited/pushed to join, and which I assumed was going to be a bit of the old:

“FIONA?!”

“PRESENT!”

But indeed I was mistaken. It was, in fact, a dance, which naturally I had never seen before but joined in as best I could and was duly complimented on thereafter. It wasn’t a super complicated dance to be fair, a bit akin to the good old fresher dances of college, and fun in spite of the heat. As soon as the ceremony wrapped up and we grabbed “cocktails”, it started to cack down rain, and we were stuck under the marquees until it stopped again. (It seems “cocktails” is something which has been a bit lost in translation – I was excited at the prospect of actual, delicious, tropical cocktails, and my mouth watered for their sweet, refreshing, alcoholic release. Alas, here, “cocktails” means food and soft-drink, generally taken after some form of ceremony-related torture. I guess it’s a bit akin to the cocktail dress. The intent to indulge in cocktails is not actually a prerequisite for wearing the aforementioned dress... but the sentiment is there, or something. If a tree falls in the forest... birds of a feather and stuff... What am I saying, the simply fact is I was tricked!! I was promised cocktails dammit...) Anyway during the deluge I had a bit of chat with a chap who had come up to me earlier, when I was “inspecting the new room” (ie loitering in the air-conditioned comfort) and said, in his most wonderful Lord-Chiddingfold-of-Moorstone’s-Manor-esque accent: “I don’t suppose this lot are having a great deal of success understanding your rough Aussie way of speaking?!” Presenting: Craig Hitchcock, ex-RAF, ex-pat, jack-of –all-trades and champion of Anglophonic activities in Côte d’Ivoire. Really a lovely guy, he gave me some great advice on everything from malaria (“I’ve had it 4 times in 10 years! Not bad eh?”) to his love of Africa (“You know, there’s a saying, one that’s been around since well before the times of air transport and such, and that is that there’s an invisible insect that bites you when you first visit Africa, and you react in one of two ways. Either you react badly to the bite, detest the place completely and leave as soon as you can, or you catch a sort of fever, fall in love with it and never leave. I’m the latter!”) He gave me one of his ump-teen business cards and assured me he’d be happy to help me in any way he could. And with a finger in every pie (including the UN, the local media, business, NGOs, etc) I just might have to take him up on that one!

Speaking of bites, diseases, etc, I should probably at this point mention one of the more feared illnesses one can catch here – one that I was vaguely aware of before arriving, but never thought of as something to which I’d be susceptible. CAF fever – perhaps not your conventional tropical disease – spreads like wildfire amongst young and old around this time of year, and certainly reaches epidemic levels in Côte d’Ivoire when les Éléphantes come out to play. The Ivoirian strain, a result of infection from the pachyderm-borne parasite specific to Côte d’Ivoire, is highly mobile, making the illness severely contagious, and no amount of opposition supporter gear (in the case of the first match, that of Burkina Faso) can quash the mania that ensues once the illness sets in...

Yes in my round-about way I’m talking about soccer, specifically the African cup, and the associated malady that accompanies the onset of such an event. It is a bit exciting actually. Everyone’s pretty psyched. The first game was apparently a shocka for the Ivoirians, tying nil all with Burkina Faso – most peeps were a bit devo. See I don’t consider that to be so bad in terms of a result, but it does reinforce what I’ve been saying about soccer for a number of years now, and that is: it’s designed to frustrate. 90 minutes where it’s possible that NOBODY scores? (plus injury time – but at the very least, this competition doesn’t feature the Italian national side, so there’s probably a bit less injury time) Seriously, why don’t you just invent a game where you pound your head against a brick wall 12 times, pause for a half time hotdog and then repeat?? Then when you’re so giddy from loss of brain cells and angry at the pain you’ve been put through, go roll a few cars and set fire to your local police station/pub/homeless guy? This end result (and, arguably, the loss of brain cells in the interim) is pretty similar to how things end up for frustrated soccer hooligans world wide – and at least this way you can shorten the time for which you suffer...

I’m just saying...

Ok ok for what it’s worth I don’t entirely hate soccer – after 12 months in Germany during which the European Cup was played (and for which Germany got to the final), watching endless soccer matches under duress, I have seen games which were more exciting, and maybe even worth half a warm beer. The fever is bubbling away somewhere in me I’m sure – it’s just a matter of time before I get my hands on some orange supporter gear and the disease rears it’s ugly head once again... (hey, I like dressing up. And orange is the new black, I hear...)

Meanwhile, while we’re on the topic of embarrassing tropical maladies, it seems the secret to avoiding biblically epic diarrhea episodes kids, is to ensure you do not eat on campus or buy anything from a street stall. Ok perhaps not but as yet, the points tally is as follows: incidences of gastro from Fatou’s cooking: 0; from street stalls: 3... On the brightside, I am now officially a victim of traveller’s diarrhea, and hereby declare myself a medical-tourism statistic – hooray! One more thing to cross off the list...

To the menfolk. Now, I like being complimented as much as the next girl, and tend to respond entirely appropriately (blushes scarlet, mumbles a quick thankyou and runs for the hills) and as sweet as it is I’m a bit confronted here by the pushy boys and their penchant for blue eyes. When I’m not blushing and quietly freaking out, I’m laughing out loud, literally, at their comments, and then apologizing for being so callous. But you try being told by a guy with a thick French accent that he’s “drrrowning in your byewdiful blue eyees” and keep a straight face... I mean, really?? I was having real trouble with one guy who keeps talking about getting me a gift, and asking rather pointedly what I’m going to give him in return – he then started eyeing off my phone and decided that we would be swapping mobile phones when I went home (mine is a pretty recent model Motorola, his is a crappy old nokia) and if I did so, each time I used my phone it would remind me of Côte d’Ivoire. How sweet, thinks I – yes, each time I look at my phone I’ll remember Côte d’Ivoire, and then heave said phone at the wall, recollecting just how much I miss my old phone. He also likes my perfume, and wants it too, to remind him of “this beautiful gift I was given when I first met you and smelt your perfume – for me this experience was a gift”. And I’m thinking keep the experience, you can’t have the perfume mate... and then the hand holding began, him trying to interlace his fingers in mine... and that’s when I urgently had to go see a guy who was passing by at that very moment how convenient. Unfortunately, this potential rescuer of mine seems also to have taken an interest and started asking some pretty personal questions about what he calls my “sentimental life” – which apparently refers to my “love life” (a term I positively detest) – rounding out the day by asking me, when I put a pair of sunglasses on, “why you want to coverr up your byewdiful blue eyes?” Sigh. It was fun on the plane, less fun the first couple of times... getting awkward now... Perhaps I’m just an ungrateful wench and I’m sure I’ll appreciate all this once I get back to Oz, where the nearest thing to a compliment from a guy is “jeez you can crack open a tinny Sheila” (yeah, I went there. But I refuse to use the term cobba. That’s just silly.) but for now it’s difficult, especially when I’m supposed to be working closely with these guys on a day to day basis. I guess this is what Zoolander was talking about when he pointed out that there is more to life than being really, really, really, really, ridiculously goodlooking. (And blue steel: annnnd fade out.)

Hmm, what else did I mention in the intro which I’ve yet to include here... oh yeah, I got yelled at by a Bacca driver first time I took one on my own. That’s actually the whole story. Not so exciting, but thought I’d throw it in to keep you guessing. As for the internet, I now have wireless which is actually the greatest invention ever for my mind, forget sliced bread, I’m ok with tearing chunks off it anyway...

Now to a definite highlight of the week – visiting the Italian Embassy. The ambassador, Giancarlo Izzo, happens to be married to an Australian and a friend of the family, Virginia Ryan – an extremely gifted artist. After years living in Ghana, Virginia has done extensive work involving all kinds of African themes, and as I understand it, started a program for female artists, though I’m unsure of the details. She and Giancarlo have a son and daughter, whom I vaguely remember from many years ago. I was welcomed into their new home (they’ve only been in Côte d’Ivoire for a couple of months) for lunch, and spent a really lovely afternoon in one of the most beautiful residences I’ve ever seen. The place is filled with artwork and beautiful artifacts from their travels all over the world, and it was so nice to have an afternoon of conversation with fellow English speakers! I hadn’t realized how much I missed stimulating conversation, but alas it is something of which I’m just not capable at this point in my French speaking career! ;) It was also nice to relax and watch a film (again, not in French!) – we watched Sweeney Todd, which, in spite of it’s gore, was very entertaining, and Virginia gave me this fantastic DVD set for use in the schools, a series of short films on HIV/AIDS related scenarios based on ideas of young Africans and directed by acclaimed African directors – plus, it’s in multiple languages, and isn’t even copyright protected, as the films are designed to educate. It couldn’t be more perfect for the program I’m doing, and the best part is, it’s so much more relevant to the kids than a bunch of statistics on AIDS in the US – or even just on AIDS in Africa. Stats are so dry, and on their own they don’t always have a great effect... so I’m really looking forward to starting the school visits and using these valuable films to boost the program and engage the kids’ interests. I know I always love my lecturers more when they break things up with a video... anyway, I’m looking forward to visiting Virginia and family again, she has already invited me to a gallery opening but unfortunately I was at work when it was on, and in any case she has said she’s happy to help me should the need arise... it’s great to know I have even more people here for support!

So finally, a bit about work. I eventually started at the NGO, after a number of hiccups (Monday there was communication issues about where and when I was to meet people and go; Tuesday I had the abovementioned gastro issues...) yesterday I finally made it, only to get sick today (not gastro this time, but a lovely throat infection, it seems – my glands are like tennis balls!) which I have a feeling was actually brought on by my first day. A bit of background first though. Intially I was going to be working at “Le Soutien”, an organization for orphans and vulnerable children, but apparently there’s some sort of problem (no-one will say what it is...) and so I’m at “Amepouh “now. At first I was pretty annoyed, as I signed on in large part to work with these kids, and not to do “marketing”, as was apparently my focus at Amepouh. But after some wheeling and dealing (and a very patronizing speech from one of the guys – I mean really, he doesn’t think I can see through that?) it was determined that I would “get to work with my kids”, and they would make sure marketing wasn’t the focus, though I will still have to do a little. It seems that on my CV, they read “Certificate of Speech Communication Australia” to mean “She can do marketing and communications”... I tried to explain that it’s really more of a qualification for public speaking and performance, but I do seem to be having rather a lot of trouble making myself understood this week... anyway, it looks like Amepouh, which is an NGO helping women effected by HIV/AIDS, often runs activities for kids, which is great, and I should be able to do some work on women’s empowerment as well, so it may have turned out even better. And when I arrived yesterday (after well over an hour’s ride in various Baccas – that will probably be the most challenging part I’d suspect!) I got my wish to work with the kids. It was a lot of fun, but exhausting – I spent a lot of time laughing when, after their initial shyness, the kids became bold enough to see if my pasty skin was real by pressing on it – and discovering that it changes color from pink to white then back to pink again when you do this – a source of joy for generations of folks back home too, I have found. After that though, it was on for young and old, and I was being poked and prodded by a thousand little hands all over, to a chorus of giggles. They seem to have managed a slightly more permanent colour change on the surface of my skin today – a nice shade of purple bruising. I’m not entirely sure of the kid’s situation – they didn’t actually come to the centre, we went to a catholic school to play games and draw pictures, etc. and they all turned up. The area in general is in noticeably worse condition than in Cocody – it’s in another suburb altogether, called Yopougon, and many of the children were dressed in borderline rags. There was a sort of attendance taken so I assume their mothers might be involved in Amepouh somehow, but the women at the office don’t speak much English, so it was hard to tell. A few of the kids had shocking coughs, and that, coupled with the sub-zero setting at which they keep the aircon in the office, and my coming in and out, covered in sweat, from freezing to hot, and doing a lot of walking seems to have weakened my defenses to their current state of non-existance... also on most days there’s no hot water, which at first didn’t bother me at all, but apparently I have started to acclimatize to the heat a bit, as the cold showers aren’t as nice as they once were... On the bright side though, it seems you can buy antibiotics over the counter here, so hopefully I’ll be back fighting fit soon – indeed, I have yet another opening ceremony to attend on Saturday (for the ASK project in the town of Dabou, outside of Abidjan) so I want to be ready.

Hahah and here I thought I could keep the blog entry a bit shorter this time... my apologies again, and thanks for sticking with it as far as you have, assuming you’re still here! (If you’re not, then you’re not reading this. Or this. Or even this...)

Hope all is well with you and yours!!

Love Fifi x