Spent a few days in Kenya and started to note some of the linguistic differences. As always, most of my material comes from taxi drivers so the vocab skews toward the automotive.
In Kenya you get "knocked by a car" instead of "hit", especially when you "do not respect" the "zebra crossing" (pronounced Zeh-bra) when crossing the street. Even better you should use a pedestrian "fly over" instead of an overpass (both pretty straightforward words, I think). And as always, when you're leaving a parking lot, put on your "specs" and look for the giant sign that says "way out" which always reminds me of teenage stoners in the 90's saying "Far Out!". It's time to go home to the place where you "stay", but don't live.
Not sure how much of this is British influence but I'm going to give credit to Kenya for the terms.
Sunday, July 21, 2013
Ginger Lemon Honey Tea
Does this exist everywhere except the US? This is the best concoction in the world and somebody has got to get on it. I drank so so many of these when I had the flu in India and am now downing them in Uganda just because I cannot think of a more delicious substance to put in my body. Ginger Lemon Honey-- so simple yet so amazing.
A view from the inside
Sitting in the cafe in the Nairobi airport, a huge group of British teenagers on some sort of group trip came in and for maybe the first time, I was able to see them as some of the others people around saw them:
- These kids are going to order a tremendous amount of food with no regard for money (they did- they ordered and then constantly added to their orders and threw around cash in giant denominations)
- OH MY GOD THEY ARE SO LOUD. The decibels in that cafe pre- to post-teen invasion went up by at least an order of magnitude (pretty obvious I have no basic understanding of sound measurement...)
- Why are they so slovenly if they're so rich? I'm positive that if you dug up a picture of me in the airport on my first trip to Africa I would have been wearing sweats and a hoodie. Only now do I realize that this is mind-boggling to others. If you can afford to look nice, why be a slob? I fight my inner slob-tendencies on every trip and was amused to notice that these teens were just like me a long time ago, totally oblivious. I still actively resent having to get dressed up to go to breakfast but it's a small concession considering the African ladies in the airport, even while toting around 3 kids, are in full matching outfits with 4 inch heels.
- These kids are going to order a tremendous amount of food with no regard for money (they did- they ordered and then constantly added to their orders and threw around cash in giant denominations)
- OH MY GOD THEY ARE SO LOUD. The decibels in that cafe pre- to post-teen invasion went up by at least an order of magnitude (pretty obvious I have no basic understanding of sound measurement...)
- Why are they so slovenly if they're so rich? I'm positive that if you dug up a picture of me in the airport on my first trip to Africa I would have been wearing sweats and a hoodie. Only now do I realize that this is mind-boggling to others. If you can afford to look nice, why be a slob? I fight my inner slob-tendencies on every trip and was amused to notice that these teens were just like me a long time ago, totally oblivious. I still actively resent having to get dressed up to go to breakfast but it's a small concession considering the African ladies in the airport, even while toting around 3 kids, are in full matching outfits with 4 inch heels.
Servitude
I am just plain bad with cultures of servitude. I'm not sure if I've written about this previously but it's something I am confronted with a lot. My silly inner-American can just not handle being waited on "we're all equal!" "I'm the same as you!" "we are peers!".
You can probably trace the causes back to some combination of the history of slavery in the US; the American dream with it's emphasis on meritocracy, pulling-up-from-bootstraps, and all the similar socialization I've had my whole life; and a heaping dose of a general disdain for formality.
Anyway, this all comes together and makes me SUPER UNCOMFORTABLE when people approach me in a servile, obsequious fashion. So yeah, former British colonies are hard. While my upbringing taught me that everyone is the same, theirs taught them to respect class and place and role (vomit). I shouldn't be so judgmental-- each view is what it is, but it doesn't change the discord.
I would really like people to call me by my first name. I offer it, and then I try to insist, all the while in my head thinking "I'm breaking down barriers! Look at me the egalitarian!" when in reality, all I'm doing is making them uncomfortable. They don't want to call me by my first name. They are uncomfortable being overly familiar.
I see no need for a server to do anything for me other than take my order and bring the check. I (gasp) pour my own water from the bottle when I finish my glass. Again to me I'm being practical and reasonable, but to them I am doing their job. The sad eyes I got from the waiter when I refilled my own glass were heartbreaking.
I know, I need to get over it. There is no use trying to fool myself into thinking my efforts are appreciated; they are not. I am subverting nothing. All I am doing is making things awkward for everyone involved.
You can probably trace the causes back to some combination of the history of slavery in the US; the American dream with it's emphasis on meritocracy, pulling-up-from-bootstraps, and all the similar socialization I've had my whole life; and a heaping dose of a general disdain for formality.
Anyway, this all comes together and makes me SUPER UNCOMFORTABLE when people approach me in a servile, obsequious fashion. So yeah, former British colonies are hard. While my upbringing taught me that everyone is the same, theirs taught them to respect class and place and role (vomit). I shouldn't be so judgmental-- each view is what it is, but it doesn't change the discord.
I would really like people to call me by my first name. I offer it, and then I try to insist, all the while in my head thinking "I'm breaking down barriers! Look at me the egalitarian!" when in reality, all I'm doing is making them uncomfortable. They don't want to call me by my first name. They are uncomfortable being overly familiar.
I see no need for a server to do anything for me other than take my order and bring the check. I (gasp) pour my own water from the bottle when I finish my glass. Again to me I'm being practical and reasonable, but to them I am doing their job. The sad eyes I got from the waiter when I refilled my own glass were heartbreaking.
I know, I need to get over it. There is no use trying to fool myself into thinking my efforts are appreciated; they are not. I am subverting nothing. All I am doing is making things awkward for everyone involved.
Hot Date with Kindle
I had a hot date with my Kindle the other night at the Hotel Restaurant and decided to up the romance by reading Khalil Gibran's The Prophet. So in the spirit of his poetic wisdom, I offer my contributions based on today:
On Playlists: she said "one shall never make a playlist for consumption in public spaces that is fewer than 4 songs long on repeat"
On Meeting Americans in Hotel Bars: she said "beware, sometimes said conversation partners are mildly racist and speak loudly"
On Turn Down Service: she said "let us not be fooled into thinking a person capable of renting a hotel room is incapable of turning the corner of her blanket down, but thanks for the chocolate"
On Tiny Short-Haul Flights: she said "let thou always be vegetarian"
On Exit Row Seating: she said "lucky are those who obtain these prized spots, let one not be an asshole by getting offended when the flight attendant confirms that you speak English, it's her job and is a totally reasonable question"
On Kenyatta Intl Airport: she said "architect be doomed"
Not quite as profound as Khalil...
On Playlists: she said "one shall never make a playlist for consumption in public spaces that is fewer than 4 songs long on repeat"
On Meeting Americans in Hotel Bars: she said "beware, sometimes said conversation partners are mildly racist and speak loudly"
On Turn Down Service: she said "let us not be fooled into thinking a person capable of renting a hotel room is incapable of turning the corner of her blanket down, but thanks for the chocolate"
On Tiny Short-Haul Flights: she said "let thou always be vegetarian"
On Exit Row Seating: she said "lucky are those who obtain these prized spots, let one not be an asshole by getting offended when the flight attendant confirms that you speak English, it's her job and is a totally reasonable question"
On Kenyatta Intl Airport: she said "architect be doomed"
Not quite as profound as Khalil...
F bombs
I'm back in Uganda and back chatting with taxi drivers. In this case, I was a little thrown off because in the same conversation my Taxi driver both seamlessly dropped an f-bomb and told me "oh, that totally sucks!". My initial reaction was to ask "wow, so you hang out with a lot of Americans, huh?" It wasn't until that moment that I realized that people here don't really curse. That makes sense- cursing in your non-mother tongue is not easy-- I'm not awesome at spontaneous cursing in French or Arabic (okay, I got some good practice in Arabic)-- and perhaps marks the cherry on top of full fluency. But also, people are just way more polite here. So when I heard him swear, my instinct was "American influence". And I was right.
Apparently he served in Iraq. I had forgotten that Uganda was among the "coalition of the willing" and this taxi driver was one of the 10,000 Ugandans deployed to Iraq (I did my homework when I got home). Crazy world.
Apparently he served in Iraq. I had forgotten that Uganda was among the "coalition of the willing" and this taxi driver was one of the 10,000 Ugandans deployed to Iraq (I did my homework when I got home). Crazy world.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)