Working with the army is interesting. As you might imagine, these guys are a bit different from Peace Corps guys. I’m a bit biased of course, and happen to think there’s no better type of guy than a Peace Corps guy. But the change was still refreshing and rather hilarious.
Most amusing was the blatant machoism. I’m still not sure if they were kidding. For example, we had to pull a cable to tow a ferry platform over the river. Usually this is a lazy endeaver for the Kedougou folk, because who really cares? These guys.
They pulled their little hearts out until they were doubled over, panting, with blisters despite the gloves they donned (someone doesn’t farm/ pound corn!). I just sipped at my coffee-in-a-nalgene (we biked over at sunrise everyday to meet them as they rolled from their beds to their SUVs…) and wondered what kind of strange society I’d signed into. They even insisted we have a boys vs. girls contest. I thought this was an odd proposition. The men were all beafy combat guys; the girls were nurses, doctors, and three Peace Corps volunteers who’d probably had about a pound of protein between them in the last year. If I were in normal shape, I might be all over this, but as it was, I just kept saying, “Are you kidding me?” It seems I’ve gotten rather used to saying any number of not-so-polite things in english with the expectation that no one will understand them.
The G.I. Joes were literally bouncing up and down before the contest. They synchronized watches, got two timers, repeated rules, and announced the ladies would be granted a 30 second head-start. Once we were off, I of course pulled my corn-mush-fed heart out (while my public position remained Disinterested). With the 30 seconds, we ended up winning. The manly man promptly declared they were just kidding about the 30 seconds, and leave it to us to enforce double standards whenever it suits us. Wow.
At the clinic, things ran smoothly enough. When they didn’t, some sort of army PANIC MODE switch was flipped. This was incredibly funny. Winds came and the tents billowed up. We PCVs watched serenely with the villagers, in a dozy, “Hoh, will you look at that…” way. The G. I. Joes, however, SPRINTED around, pumping their arms, eyes flashing, bellowing orders, “MOVE it, MOVE it, MOVE IT! Secure the tent cords! GO, Get that side, GO!”
When this all started, I was on lunch break in the VEHICLE (it is never referred to as a mere “car”) savoring delicious army food (pita chips! Apple jacks! Cheese tortellini!) when I saw the absurd commotion outside. The guys looked like they were overacting for a war movie, with dumbstruck spectators accidentally walking onto the scene. I was confused—was the Vehicle that sturdy that I couldn’t feel what looked like (reactions to) a hurricane on the weather channel? I leapt out to help with whatever catastrophe was causing the panic. Once I confirmed nothing was actually wrong, I returned to my beautiful snack pack and giggled at the ridiculousness.
I’m not going to say these guys are not tough; we all know they are. But on this particular occasion… complaining about standing/ sitting all day, about it being hot, about a 2 hour plane ride (instead of a DAY-long sept-place ride), about food, about missing hot showers… Seriously? One person asked, “So do you not have air-conditioning then?” “What, like in my hut?!” I choked a bit. “Um, yeah, wherever you live?” Oh my.
I don’t mean to just poke fun (even though they were quite funny to me). I can’t even imagine what some of these guys have been through. Also I must say that despite their vast difference from the PCV-prototype, these were some more of the nicest guys I’ve met. They were thrilled to do humanitarian aid work and helpful in every way. I was happy to work with them (I did translations and causeries on first aid, dehydration/ORS, and malaria/neem lotion). It just startled me how different they were, and surprised me to find I could understand the villagers much better. It’s lucky, really, to be in my position. I knew with all confidence that the lady coming in the back door with the rushed look about her was looking for her child. As obvious as it seemed to me, these guys seemed to think she was breaking in to attack us. Seeing that didn’t make me laugh; it made me sad.
We’re all trying to serve our country. And now I realize how lucky I am that my method has brought me ease with others, a quickness in determining “it’s not so bad” (vs. Panic Mode), and a true and pure appreciation of pita chips. Alhumdulilai.
1 comment:
Assume this is the US Forces ? What were they doing in Senegal ?
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