Dr. Highpants and the preachers
It sounds like a band, it's not, just the only way I could title such a mishmash of subjects.
I was at the district office the other day, and heard for the first time a NOT behind-the-back joke made to someone wearing high pants.
Clarification: high pants is a style that some Tanzanian men seem to find rather fashionable. It involves someone, preferably with a large belly, hiking up their pants to about belly-button level or a little above, and then belting them so they stay up there. The large belly helps keep them up, and I actually suspect this style might have something to do with showing off already prominent midsections, as fat = symbol of wealth.
The joke was something to the effect of: a young man who has been increasingly hiking his pants for the last few months [he does not have a belly, and originally his pants were at normal level] recieving a warning that he might choke himself to death with his belt if his pants-raising rate keeps up.
----
When I go into Mwanza to my AMREF office, it is right across the street from the super-safi supermaket [safi means nice]. This is where all the expats and rich people shop. I rarely go in, since I can find most of the stuff for cheaper elsewhere, but there is also a group of young men who stand outside the shop and sell exotic fruits and veggies like broccoli, cauliflower, zuchinni, apples, pears, carrots, etc [exotic for Mwanza at least].
For my first year here, I rarely bought anything from them. But lately i've been buying a lot, especially apples, which I had sorely missed. But I dare say, I think one reason I've been more inclined to purchase from them recently is that they've started calling me 'Dr.' [in Kiswahili, 'Dakta'] Now, I can appreciate a good ego massage as well as the next guy, but I never thought it would sucker me into buying a whole days salary worth of apples.
Last week in town, they called me over [Dr! Dr! come buy fruit!], and I went. One of the young guys muttered under his breath "him? a doctor?! what kind of doctor could he be, he's only our age." His friend kicked him in the shins and called out to me, "Dr, Dr, come buy apples." I bought 10, at an expensive 500 a pop. An apple a day keeps the doctor away, but THIS doctor plans on buying a lot more from these guys, as long as they keep our little charade up.
[Just to point out - as much as I liked being called Doctor, I have absolutely no intentions of putting in the minimum 5-10 years or howlong of hellish schooling to actually BECOME a doctor. I might, however, start walking around in a Doctors lab coat...]
----
My neighborhood church choir has been replaced by a neighbor who must own at least 6 of the minivans that act as bus transport to Mwanza. They are very quiet except when they pull into the 'garage' [yard] at night. In the meantime, the choir continued to haunt me - yesterday I turned on my favorite radio station to listen to some local music, and BAM their song was being played....
----
Coming back from Mwanza, I was feeling pretty good, and pretty full of myself [I had, afterall, just become a Doctor]. I went to the bus station to buy some small bananas and ran into a man with a bullhorn. Can you already tell this is bad news, people with bullhorns in bus stations? It is certainly bad news in the states, and sure enough, was bad news here. I managed to catch, just as I was paying for my bananas,.... "God sent AIDS as a punishment for our sins, and God can cure AIDS for those already suffering." He went on, trying to encourage people to listen and come to his church and get cured of ALL their ailments, including diabetes and liver failure and skin cancer and albinism [ok, so diabetes might be sin of gluttony, and liver failure alcoholism though I don't think thats a deadly sin, but skin cancer and albinism?! what is that, sin of sun-worship and sin of....being born?!].
I decided, against my better judgement on most days but WELL within my judgement as a Doctor, to confront him. I asked him just how exactly God cures AIDS, and just why exactly He sees fit to punish little innocent children who are born with HIV. I got a nice response, which was the bullhorn in my face and repitition of what he had already said. I tried to push the bullhorn out of my face and he looked like he thought I was going to hit him - he asked me to 'respect him', and continued. In the span of about 10 seconds, I had a crowd of at LEAST 50 people around me waiting to see what would happen next, many of whom were no doubt rooting for a brawl - who wouldn't like seeing the only white guy in a mile radius getting into a fistfight with a preacher?!
I asked the preacher dude for 10 seconds of my OWN on his bullhorn, which he refused. But he started moving away, and I decided to make do with what I had, and started shouting at the top of my lungs the truth about HIV/AIDS, and the most important messages: that we should all seek professional medical advice, test early, get treatment, and protect ourselves by abstaining or having safe sex. I fielded a few questions, including one from the Mama who sold me bananas, and then headed for my bus. It seemed like none of these people listened or believed what the man was saying, and looked to him for a source of entertainment and a way in which they can test their own level of sanity. Which was very reassuring for me, since they understood very easily what I was saying, and seemed to very much appreciate what I did, even if it didn't involve throwing punches....
-----
I was at the district office the other day, and heard for the first time a NOT behind-the-back joke made to someone wearing high pants.
Clarification: high pants is a style that some Tanzanian men seem to find rather fashionable. It involves someone, preferably with a large belly, hiking up their pants to about belly-button level or a little above, and then belting them so they stay up there. The large belly helps keep them up, and I actually suspect this style might have something to do with showing off already prominent midsections, as fat = symbol of wealth.
The joke was something to the effect of: a young man who has been increasingly hiking his pants for the last few months [he does not have a belly, and originally his pants were at normal level] recieving a warning that he might choke himself to death with his belt if his pants-raising rate keeps up.
----
When I go into Mwanza to my AMREF office, it is right across the street from the super-safi supermaket [safi means nice]. This is where all the expats and rich people shop. I rarely go in, since I can find most of the stuff for cheaper elsewhere, but there is also a group of young men who stand outside the shop and sell exotic fruits and veggies like broccoli, cauliflower, zuchinni, apples, pears, carrots, etc [exotic for Mwanza at least].
For my first year here, I rarely bought anything from them. But lately i've been buying a lot, especially apples, which I had sorely missed. But I dare say, I think one reason I've been more inclined to purchase from them recently is that they've started calling me 'Dr.' [in Kiswahili, 'Dakta'] Now, I can appreciate a good ego massage as well as the next guy, but I never thought it would sucker me into buying a whole days salary worth of apples.
Last week in town, they called me over [Dr! Dr! come buy fruit!], and I went. One of the young guys muttered under his breath "him? a doctor?! what kind of doctor could he be, he's only our age." His friend kicked him in the shins and called out to me, "Dr, Dr, come buy apples." I bought 10, at an expensive 500 a pop. An apple a day keeps the doctor away, but THIS doctor plans on buying a lot more from these guys, as long as they keep our little charade up.
[Just to point out - as much as I liked being called Doctor, I have absolutely no intentions of putting in the minimum 5-10 years or howlong of hellish schooling to actually BECOME a doctor. I might, however, start walking around in a Doctors lab coat...]
----
My neighborhood church choir has been replaced by a neighbor who must own at least 6 of the minivans that act as bus transport to Mwanza. They are very quiet except when they pull into the 'garage' [yard] at night. In the meantime, the choir continued to haunt me - yesterday I turned on my favorite radio station to listen to some local music, and BAM their song was being played....
----
Coming back from Mwanza, I was feeling pretty good, and pretty full of myself [I had, afterall, just become a Doctor]. I went to the bus station to buy some small bananas and ran into a man with a bullhorn. Can you already tell this is bad news, people with bullhorns in bus stations? It is certainly bad news in the states, and sure enough, was bad news here. I managed to catch, just as I was paying for my bananas,.... "God sent AIDS as a punishment for our sins, and God can cure AIDS for those already suffering." He went on, trying to encourage people to listen and come to his church and get cured of ALL their ailments, including diabetes and liver failure and skin cancer and albinism [ok, so diabetes might be sin of gluttony, and liver failure alcoholism though I don't think thats a deadly sin, but skin cancer and albinism?! what is that, sin of sun-worship and sin of....being born?!].
I decided, against my better judgement on most days but WELL within my judgement as a Doctor, to confront him. I asked him just how exactly God cures AIDS, and just why exactly He sees fit to punish little innocent children who are born with HIV. I got a nice response, which was the bullhorn in my face and repitition of what he had already said. I tried to push the bullhorn out of my face and he looked like he thought I was going to hit him - he asked me to 'respect him', and continued. In the span of about 10 seconds, I had a crowd of at LEAST 50 people around me waiting to see what would happen next, many of whom were no doubt rooting for a brawl - who wouldn't like seeing the only white guy in a mile radius getting into a fistfight with a preacher?!
I asked the preacher dude for 10 seconds of my OWN on his bullhorn, which he refused. But he started moving away, and I decided to make do with what I had, and started shouting at the top of my lungs the truth about HIV/AIDS, and the most important messages: that we should all seek professional medical advice, test early, get treatment, and protect ourselves by abstaining or having safe sex. I fielded a few questions, including one from the Mama who sold me bananas, and then headed for my bus. It seemed like none of these people listened or believed what the man was saying, and looked to him for a source of entertainment and a way in which they can test their own level of sanity. Which was very reassuring for me, since they understood very easily what I was saying, and seemed to very much appreciate what I did, even if it didn't involve throwing punches....
-----
posted by Brian at
1:52 PM
1 Comments:
Go Dr. Brian! Standing up to the weirdos in Tanzania. That's a great story. Next time just kick him in the shins, throw condoms everywhere, and run for it!
So can we expect to see you hiking up your britches like an old man when you return? Just curious.
By
Anonymous, at 8/22/2006 4:53 AM
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