Hard To Explain

(Photo: Zach's Hangar - blue curtain entrance)





For the entire day of January 2nd I spent a total of 40 CTA (on 4 pieces of chalk I needed for a ragtag sort of English class I'm teaching). At 500 CTA to the dollar, that's less than 10 cents. Granted I do contribute 20,000 CFA (40 dollars) to the family for food and incidentals each month, but still, I'm getting by on not much. So how can I possibly convey the idea that a year at my "university" in the states (when I say "college" they think I'm talking about middle school) costs 40,000 dollars? Sure, I can write down the number as a visual aid (20,000,000 CFA), but that's just a number, not really the "idea". It's difficult because the number's just not really logical over here...I can see them thinking, "I really wish Zach would learn his French numbers, he's messed up the translation again....I mean, 20,000000 CFA, what we would do with money like that!".

OK, but this is a cliche example of the cultural chasm that exists between the U.S. and Chad. I knew that I was going to be the rich, wasteful American long before I got here. I knew that the indulgent way a portion of the world lives is a complete and utter enigma to the majority of the world's population. Fine, enough whipping myself on the back. But this is just where the gap begins.

As I talked about a little once before, I spend a large portion of my day trying to "explain" myself and my culture in contrast to the Chadian way of life. It's great, it's part of the reason I'm here, but I constantly find that I'm talking myself down paths that have rather abrupt and unsatisfactory endings.

A couple of days ago I was talking about New Years with my oldest host brother, Abdoulaye. He wanted to know what the holiday's like at home. I started to talk about Times Square...."a huge party, with tons of people and live music, and they need all sorts of security".... and then I started to explain the ball dropping and I could see his eyes start to wander...."a huge machine of a ball that's covered in lights, what the hell is he talking about?"...and so I stopped.

Or the other day they were commenting on how I have a hard time eating the meat (you should see me, I take a piece of gristle and bone, and graw on it and graw on it, and finally put it down on the mat pretty much exactly as I found it), and they wanted to know, "don't you have meat in New York?" And so I started to answer, as tactfully as possible, that of course we have meat, but it's a little different....different cuts....well, really we just eat a lot more chicken....And while not completely accurate, this kind of satisfied the discussion. But then my host father, Ali, wanted to know if there are many animals (like cows or sheep) where I live. And I started to explain that not really, it's more that the animals are elsewhere where they're killed and then transported in big refrigerated trucks....and his eyes start to wander and search....and I stop.

And then there's the heavier stuff. That I'm used to eating meals with my mother and other women, and that it's difficult for me to see women treated as inferiors. Or that I don't like it when they smack small children with reeds to get them out of my hangar. Or that I'm OK with the fact that I'm 22 and I don't yet have a wife and a child.

I skim over this stuff now, but I will come back to it all; all in good time.

I feel like my life has become one long badly dubbed movie (which by the way are all the rage here in Moussoro), where acting is pretty decent, but you just know the words that are coming out are not at all what the person is "actually" saying. Oh well, for now I don't think I really have any choice but to let the movie run and hope that they realize how bad the dubbing is. Hopefully, with time, as my French improves, things will get easier to explain, but I'm pretty sure there are some things which will stay lost in that gap forever.