Weekend Update

Friday, July 09, 2004

Another week has ended! This week actually went quicker than I expected. Once the measles partnership call happened, it seemed like the week sped up. Had a bit of a problem from Robert this morning. He checked the measles financial tracking spreadsheet and didn’t see entries he expected to see. So he shot off an email about how we need to update this monstrous spreadsheet each day, etc, etc. I had a list of things to add from the night before but had not had a chance. Luckily, I was able to figure out what it was I needed to do with Yinka’s help, and I updated the sheet. Robert dropped by the office to say he didn’t think I was updating, but then I showed him the sheet. He was satisfied, I think. I also told him where the spreadsheet was that I was using, b/c I honestly do not know which one he could be looking at. Apparently, Sophia (his secretary) also has a spreadsheet somewhere. It’s a complicated system, so I’m not convinced she really keeps up with it.

After updating that spreadsheet, the day was almost over since we get off at 2pm on Fridays. I was ready to go too. It was a beautiful day, and I like getting off early on Fridays. Earlier, Yves came over and changed some money for me, on the black market of course. Everything here is done on the black market. The official exchange rate yesterday was $1US = $5400Zim. The rate I got from Yves was $1US = $6500Zim. That’s an $1100Zim difference per dollar! No wonder no one uses the banks here anymore. It’s very funny when Yves comes in the office. He just appears, closes the door, and it’s very much like what I imagine a drug deal would be like. Except everyone at WHO uses him to exchange money.

I came back to the cottage after picking up a few items at the grocery, read some by the pool, talked with Kirk and his friend whose name I never caught, and then took a nap. I got ready for an evening out with Yinka and 10 others at what’s called a “Bangla”. It’s an Indian community dance based on the Bollywood scene. Basically you take American cinema and music and put an Eastern/Indian spin on it. It’s very interesting. I’m not sure if Bangla is right term. I heard several during the night, but can only remember Bangla.

There was a buffet of so-so food, and an apple pie/dumpling dessert. The drinks were outrageously expensive, so I didn’t have many. It took a while for me to want to dance, but once the disco started, I got up with the rest. It was pretty fun. There was some eye candy too. Three people met us at the Sheraton where the event took place. Two Dutch and one from Suriname. The Dutch girl’s name was Inga, which is the first time I’d heard that name since Shane’s wife. The second was named Olwen, which is pronounced Olvin. The Suriname guy’s name I don’t remember b/c I only heard it once. He also didn’t say much.

Olwen was cute; skinny but cute. I couldn’t decide if he was gay or not, as Europeans mess up American gaydar. He sat next to met at the table and we talked quite a bit. Even though I couldn’t decide if he was gay or not, it was nice to feel like I was being somewhat flirted with. With very few exceptions, there’s been absolutely no one here that I’ve found attractive. I like eye candy like any red blooded guy, but it’s been sorely lacking here in Zimbabwe. A big part of that is what I find attractive, and part of it is missing Richard, I think. When he’s around, it can be fun to cruise a crowd and pick out the cute ones, but it’s not the same when he’s not here. Anyway, I tried to figure out if Olwen and the Suriname guy were boyfriends. They do live together, and they went to grad school together in Amesterdam. The Suriname guy ended up dropping out of school for a while to come visit in January and has stayed while he takes “at least” a year off. Something about the story just doesn’t seem right. Most guy friends don’t drop out of school to follow another to Africa and live with him. Just part of the intrigue for me, so I had fun with it.

Amy from the Embassy turned out to be kindred (perverted) spirit as we made crass comments and altered song lyrics together. She looked at the DJ and lamented that he needed to be at least 10 yrs older. I thought he was 18 and told her if she wasn’t husband hunting, 18 was perfectly fine. Then she retorted, “Yeah, I figure if there’s grass on the field, it’s OK to play.” I loved it! I told her that was almost as bad as the saying, “Old enough to bleed, old enough to breed.” She thought that was very funny. I don’t know if she figured me out or not, but we danced some and had a nice time. It’s weird being sort of closeted here.

We stayed until about 1am. The all-Indian music started at 11pm where the ticket said “serious” partying would start. It wasn’t that serious, actually. Inga, Olwen, and the Suriname guy all left shortly after the all-Indian music started. Inga gave me her phone number and said they might be going to another jazz place. OF course, I had no way to get there, so it didn’t do me much good. When I told Richard about this, he figured that Inga was interested. I somehow doubt that, especially if Olwen was gay…he would have clocked me, no doubt. Around midnight, I started getting tired and sore from the dancing and the gym.

At one point in the dancing, it was me, Ian’s 5 month pregnant wife (dressed like Beyonce in Austin Power’s Goldfinger as Foxy Cleopatra…she looked FIERCE), the Suriname guy, and Olwen. Dutch, St. Lucia, Suriname, and the USA all dancing together. Not many times you can see a scene like that! It was very cool. Speaking of Ian’s wife (name escapes me), she was awesome. Here she is 5 and a half months pregnant, showing, dressed as a fierce disco diva complete with HUGE afro, and she danced the night away. When we left, she could have still been going. I thought it was very cool to see a pregnant lady getting her groove on like that. The baby may have wondered what was going on out there, but we all had a great time. She was the only person on the dance floor with rhythm, that’s for sure. Everyone else was doing the white man shuffle, except they were all Indian! J I thought a lot of Surabhi, and I wished she could have been there for the evening. I think she would have enjoyed it.

Yinka was wearing a summer Indian outfit of light yellow which went with her hair quite well. She did look good, and at one point this fat, short, bald Indian guy tried to put the moves on her! I laughed so hard and whispered to Amy, “Who’s your daddy?” She thought I was bad, but I told her that he was looking at Yinka like she was the Butterball turkey fresh out of the oven at Thanksgiving dinner! Turns out Yinka knew him from WHO, which is interesting. The men at WHO thinking nothing of hitting on women they find attractive. It’s very unprofessional, even if it’s part of the African culture. Casey has been sexually harassed by Mr. Bizimana to the point that she avoids working with him, although Robert often forces her since he thinks highly of Bizimana.

We spent some time at the table trashing President Bush, although we all fear he will ultimately win. I pray that the American people see him for the danger he truly is. If we reelect him with any margin at all, the world will turn against us as they have him. Pity that at least half the country is too stupid to see that, or if they do, to care.

I talked to Richard a few minutes ago, and it was a nice talk. I worry about running up the phone bill though. Luckily, I can pay it when I get back if I go over. I’m not worried about it. It’s worth it to me to keep in touch when I need to. Now it’s time to sleep, as it’s pushing 3am.

Saturday, July 10, 2004

I slept until about 11am or so. I only had cereal for breakfast along with toast, yogurt, and the orange crush drink. I’ve sat around all day watching movies on the satellite TV. This is NOT the way to spend your time in a foreign land on the weekends. I should be traveling! But how? I can’t exactly rent a car and just go off somewhere. Well, I probably could, but it wouldn’t be a very smart thing to do, especially since I’d have to drive into rural areas to get to places like the Great Zimbabwe. Still, I don’t want to just sit around idly, doing nothing.

There’s NO WATER!!! The sinks, shower, toilet…all have no water. The toilet won’t flush, which means what you think that would mean. No one seems to be too bothered by this. I had some water in my tea pot, so I heated it up and washed my hair and shaved, but that’s it. I need a real shower, but I don’t see it happening. It’s almost 5pm as I write, and there is still no water. It’s very, very annoying.

I can’t imagine anyone in the US putting up with having no water in the middle of a capital city, national or state. This is a common way of life here, with outages of water and electricity common. Why do Zimbabwean’s put up with it? The economy is a wreck, inflation is out of control, a food shortage is approaching, and basic needs remain poorly met. Roads, electricity, clean water….it’s all falling apart for them! No wonder Pet says that just about any place would be better than Zimbabwe right now. If her husband Morris finds a job somewhere else, finds a house to buy, and gets settled, she will gladly pick up and move.

I know the elections were rigged here with armed thugs at polling places, shenanigans with the paper ballots, etc. All Mugabe did was take a page from the GOP playbook in 2000. Disenfranchise portions of the population you know will not vote for you, and intimidate the rest. Bush is even considering having armed guards at polling places this November. That’s horrifying. What is the USA coming to that we have to have an armed presence at our polling places? I don’t care if John Ashcroft himself is standing over my should with an uzi when I vote, I will gladly vote against Bush. I won’t be intimidated where it comes to my right to vote. I wish Zimbabweans had the ability to rise up and take back their country. Surely, the notion of having “free land” that you don’t own and can barely farm isn’t worth having your entire country fall apart around you.

Sunday, July 11, 2004

I should NOT have drank as much as I did last night. I got invited to a house party given by one of the two gay guys I met at brunch my first Sunday here. The occasion was apparently a visit by some people who used to live in Zimbabwe, but now reside in Cape Town, which I am told is the San Francisco of Africa. Anyway, I went to this house party, and it was fun. The liquor flowed quite freely, and my glass never stayed empty for long. That was the problem. I just kept drinking my rum and cokes without nary a thought.

I am paying for it today. I don’t have a headache or anything, but I’m so nauseated right now I can hardly stand it. I went with Yinka her new boyfriend to Nastasha and Ian’s house. Natasha is the pregnant lady’s name. As is usual for me, about the third time I meet someone, I usually pick up their name finally. Anyway, I remained green around the gills, so I didn’t eat much. I wanted to, but I couldn’t stomach the thought of vomiting it all back up. Natasha made me some tea to help calm my stomach and it helped some.

Luckily, I’m home and will stay in bed the rest of the night. Mom and Richard called. I wasn’t very good at conversation, but it was nice to hear them nonetheless. If I weren’t so nauseated, this wouldn’t be bad. Reminds me why I don’t drink much anymore. I’m getting too old to party much.

I also ended up dropping my cell phone into the sink and busting it. I had to heat up water from my bottled supply and put it in the sink so I could at least clean essential areas. I had just called Eddie to pick me up for the party, and set the phone down on the edge of the sink. Mistake. It fell into the water, which I didn’t think was a huge deal except for the fact it needed to dry out. Well, it’s laid out and still not working. I may need to get Casey’s newer phone.

Luckily, I’ve got crackers to eat, so I can munch on them. Hopefully I will feel better in the morning.