Tuesday, March 20, 2007

March 20th.

I have a meeting with Justin Hane tomorrow. Justin works for Mercy Ships and will be helping provide us with statistics for the UNCRC report that we're handing in. Justin is Canadian, thinks he looks decent when showered "but not necessarily when shaven" and wrote a poem about Pamplemousse, a kitten who died after being mauled by a dog. I know all this despite not having ever met Justin Hane because he has a blog on the Internet in which he talks about his time in Sierra Leone. I've been reading it for the past two weeks.

Justin wrote an entry a while ago in which he talked about the meaninglessness of meaningless posts in a Blog and about how he has a tendency to write about writing about nothing. I completely understood. He swore that he would write about something even if it was nothing. Dude, I so understand. I vow to do the same all the time. I noticed, however, that most of his posts are short. They are entertaining to read. I read about 6 months of his life in about an hour. I know that others are interested. I wish that my thoughts were equally as entertaining, but I'm afraid that I'm a rambler with no interest in journalism and no talent for writing. BUT. I force myself to write about it because otherwise I tend to disappear, so this is all we get:

Today I went to Mamba Point after work. It was Movie Night. Mamba Point is the local expat bar. It is riddled with white people and if you hang out there long enough you will almost certainly make a lot of friends. You will learn very little about Sierra Leone and the nationals there, but you will eat a good pizza. Today I had copious amounts of beer (Star Beer, Sierra Leone's local brew) and ate a mediocre hummous. It's mediocre but I crave it and order it all the time.

I went to the bar with Virginia, my boss, and V.J., our new logisitics guy. Virginia is Spanish and extraordinarily kind to me, which I find strange since Charly told me that Virginia does not really like to associate with staff members. Virginia is a Spaniard Taurus (um, aren't all Spaniards Torros?), a dark-haired, hot-blooded, crazy woman who has worked as a project manager in just about every dangerous country you can name. She is minuscule, works out all the time, appears not to eat, and is extremely intelligent. She is 31 years old. We bonded on Saint Patrick's Day and hugged fiercely after both admitting that we'd broken up with men we'd hoped to marry. She has since introduced me to just about every single man in Freetown. Each time she does so, she says, "Hi ____, this is Anna, she is very, very smart, and very beautiful." It is embarrassing and I have no idea how to react: Smile, blush, nod, or just sit and do all the above. I smile awkwardly, blush awkwardly, and awkwardly fidget, shyly playing with my hair.

Tomorrow we are going for Salsa lessons and on Sunday we are going to the private beach owned (run? borrowed?) by the Spanish consular. Apparently there will be tons of booze and caviar. I have signed up for Spanish lessons on Monday Nights, Tuesday Nights are Movie Night at Mamba Point, Wednesdays are Salsa, Thursdays are (so far) free, Friday nights everyone goes to Atlantic (a club), and weekends are for beaches. Life in Sierra Leone is going to be a constant wave of movement for me this time. After my (far-too) wild times in Paris, my attempt to calm down during my first time in SL (and my apparently lackluster personality given all it did for my relationship) we'll see how I do with this current schedule. I think I prefer hanging out with the kids and feeding them candies while they smother me with dirty hands. I'd rather read a book to kids who understand none of my words and pet a lamb than awkwardly look away while men argue over who gets to be my Spanish teacher.

2 comments:

ETP said...

I suggest that the next time you're introduced with "Hi ____, this is Anna, she is very, very smart, and very beautiful." that you remember - and say - these key words: "Yes, I am."

Anna, Pikin Protector said...

You are beautiful, Evan, and you've just brightened an otherwise painfully stressful day. Thank you.