IT DON'T MATTER IF YOU'RE BLACK OR WHITE ...OR DOES IT?

I've had a nice day today. The classes went extremely well - I think I've found an answer to the discipline problems at school - and I was feeling rather good about myself as a teacher. Despite my annoying cold.

As Jandro is away for two days, it was my job to fill the fridge, so I got into a taxi right after work. Affaires étrangères?, I asked, the taxi driver nodded and I got inside, taking the front seat. There were two people in the back, a man and a woman, and they were talking loudly about what I assumed was an innocent topic. After a few moments, however, in spite of my poor French, I realised that they were actually discussing... my looks. Or, to be precise, the man claimed that he would never go out with me. Too bad, I thought and smiled to myself, but life goes on. Fine. I'm white, I'm different, I'm French, I'm rich... Whatever. Couldn't care less if you find me pretty!

Sadly, this was only the beginning. The man started mocking me and the two words I said to the taxi driver. How many different ways are there to humiliate me by means of so little linguistic material? Too many. Everything that's pink is sooo pretty!, he exclaimed ironically. When I informed the driver that Ici c'est bon it gave him something new to laugh at and I heard him do so as the taxi drove away. Throughout the ride, the girl and the driver said nothing.

It was the first time I could not escape verbal abuse by walking away. I was trapped in a car with this man and while he laughed at me, mocked me and insulted me, I couldn't do anything. I wanted to turn and shout: WHAT THE HELL DO YOU KNOW ABOUT ME?! I wanted to give a thousand reasons why I didn't deserve to be treated like this. But I couldn't do anything. I'm white. It will never change. For some people I will never fit in. I couldn't do anything.

But let's stay positive: what did I learn today? Michael Jackson was wrong.

Picture downloaded here. Can I even use it?

SMALL TALK, BIG DEAL

There has been a lot of talk on this blog about how rewarding my Gabon experience is: I get to travel and meet people from a completely different world, living their culture and learning from them at all times. Of course, all of this is pure theory most of the time. I usually meet and spend time with Europeans and even from them it's difficult to learn because they just happen to speak the most difficult language in the world.

However, things have started to look up lately, even if I didn't notice it at first. It was Jandro who's been recently pointing out that my French is getting better and better, and that I can already hold a simple conversation without greater difficulty. Initially I thought that he was just trying to make me feel better but yesterday I got the ultimate proof that his remarks might have been based on reality. But let me walk you through it.

In some inexplicable way (the security men at least were not able to explain it) we got a puncture while the car was parked outside our building. We thus changed the wheel (this story is linked to another exciting anectode - the air filter one - but I don't know if I'm authorized to tell!) and drove to a garage to get the tyre fixed. The garage is right next to a fruit stand (not the one in the picture, mind you, but you get the idea) and while Jandro was dealing with the tyre guys, I went over to buy some fruit. We'd already bought there a few times and the young shop keeper showed some signs of recognition. I bought the fruit, remarked that it was expensive, got the usual "that's Gabon" in reply, said "but still", got the price reduced by 500 CFA, paid and trotted away to Jandro. It's funny, by the way, how you always have to go through the ceremony of haggling, even when both parties know that the initial price is ridiculous.

The fruit girl watched us for a moment and then cleared some things off a stool and offered it to me (You can also put your fruit here. It might get smashed by a car over there). I accepted and sat down, while she herself took her usual spot on the ground. Il fait chaud, I stated, because nothing else came to my mind and weather is always a valid topic. Oh yes, it is hot, she picked up, rather happy that I started the conversation. We talked about some exotic fruit she was selling, about how my skin was not made for this weather, and how I wasn't French, how she was from Benin, a beautiful but poor country, and how Libreville was cooler where I lived because the sea was near. Soon enough, Jandro was done and came up to us. I got up (at that time I was already sitting on the ground as well) and waved goodbye to the girl and she asked me if we had any kids (because if you did I'd ask about their health). I asked her the same question and she said no, looking extremely young at that very moment (it is very difficult to tell the age of African people. I normally distinguish between children, elderly people and the large group in between).

Most French-speaking people in Gabon have these chats every day, hardly even noticing that they are experiencing a different culture. For me it was the first time I actually had an independent and improvised conversation with somebody from here. It feels good to know that my French is improving. But it feels even better to realise that I too can have a go at putting the whole "cultural experience" idea into practice.

ON MY OWN

So, the sun is setting on my alone time in Libreville and of course I'm terribly excited that Jandro is coming back. But I am also very proud of myself: I have survived a whole week on my own, which means that both my French and social skills have developed sufficiently to allow it.

My week consisted of going to work, going shopping and going to the gym, as well as visiting and receiving friends. I also contacted and met up with a new French teacher. I spoke more French than ever and was complemented on it several times. I moved around in taxis, apart from a couple of times when one sympathetic colleague or other picked me up on the road. I was surprised at how natural it was for me to come back to Gabon and take up the life I'd left here.

Even though to you all these things may seem trivial - after all you go to work on your own every day and most of you have lived alone - for me it was a challenge, and one which I tackled succefully. Do you remember the girl you met in April? The one who had doubts whether to go for a walk on the beach or not? Well, she's not here anymore. Africa is really growing on me, the more I learn, the more I want to know. And, believe it or not, I did not see this coming.

LATITUDE DOWN, TEMPERATURE UP

Yesterday I got up at 3:30 am and boarded my plane to Frankfurt at 6. I had (of course) trouble with the weight of my suitcase, which, in short, means that I ended up travelling with a plastic bag full of kiełbasa (I'm sure the smell made me rather popular with fellow passengers).

I got to Frankfurt on time and landed in Libreville as scheduled. In 12 hours my world changed from freezing cold and snowy to hot and stuffy. My body is still making the necessary adjustments, which results in my being terribly tired and dizzy. As I was going through customs I had the following conversation with the customs officer, who was dutifully guarding the exit:
Officer: Where are you coming from?
Me: Poland.
Officer: I said: where are you coming from?
Me (thinking I understood him wrong): Can you repeat the question?
Officer (patiently): Where are you coming from?
Me: Poland. As I said.
Officer: What is Poland?
Me: A country in Europe. Do you want to see my passport?
Officer: Will you go already?
So I hurried out.

I got home, having been picked up by one of our lovely neighbours. The lift wasn't working. I asked the security guy to help me with my suitcase and he boldly claimed to be able to take it up on his own. I told him it was heavy and that I lived on the eighth floor but he insisted on doing it alone, probably not very keen to share his tip. Judging from his face and grunts, he regretted his choice as early as the third floor.

The flat was just as we left it, apart from two things: a huge dead cockroach on the living-room floor and the fact that there is no electricity in the bedrooms and ensuite bathrooms, which consitute exactly half of our flat. Luckily kitchen and air-conditioning work.

And here I am, in Libreville again. Jandro will arrive on Friday night and up till then I'm on my own. Let's just hope my Survival in Libreville skills are as developed as I believe them to be.