Angélique Kidjo

I went to see Angélique Kidjo yesterday and it was electric.

Kidjo was born in Ouidah, Benin but relocated to Paris in 1982 following continuing political conflicts in her country. She's a Beninese (from Benin) singer, songwriter whose style is a strange mix of rock/pop and piercing African voices, instruments and beats.

Angélique is so electric, that she manage to get people up and dancing everytime (this is feat in a crowd full of self-important Washington DC suits). By the end of her concert, 1/5 of the audience was on the stage, booty-shaking along with her. She was moving in and out of the thick crowd, creating a strange symbiosis of people, lead by her powerful, but bodiless voice.

It was bitter sweet for me as well, as it coincided with the break-up of a person I admire and appreciate greatly. In a recent email to a friend, I wrote:

It's such a cop-out when people say "my boyfriend and I broke-up " because, at the end of the day, it's a lot more than a school crush. It's a break-up with a good friend, a carer, a lover, and a future father. It's also a leap of faith to leave someone who loves you and whom you love. Who's to say that someone else will love you again? And find your bad habits charming?

I'm LOST, 2 years late

Since my last post, I have managed to become completely addicted to the TV show Lost. It strikes me as ironic that, while I was visiting the deep, lush, impenetrable jungles of the Congo, foxy Matthew Fox and the shell-shock crew of the crashed passenger plane were also inexplicably drawn to the Jungles of the mysterious Island.

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And yes, I realize that, much like a surviving Cast-Away coming home, I am quite late in catching up with the latest TV shows. But I am immeasurably glad not to have been exposed to the grueling sounds of the thing in the forest, the wild boars, the miraculous medical recoveries and intense distrust of fellow passengers of the TV show.

Just because I would have been just too freaked out to do my field work. There are crazy things in the Congo too, and you just don't want to ask too many questions. For example, it is not advisable to ask about the tough, gamey, brown chunks of meat mysteriously showing up on your breakfast plate. It's 8:00am, you have a long day ahead--and I'm sure my fellow Lost passengers will agree--you need the protein.

So I don't know much about the Island yet (though there have been 3 seasons, I have only watched 3 episodes) but it strikes me as remarkably similar to the Island of Dr. Moreau, a horrifying book about a scientist who breeds half-human-half-animal creatures on a deserted Island. The creatures are tortured and forced to act human, but they are invariably drawn to let their instincts take over and become wild, violent and incontrollable. Much to the dismay of the humans left on the Island.

Or is it like those Sci-Fi books I read voraciously: humans becoming helpless, clueless pawns in a fascinating social behavior study in a controlled environment? Who knows?

Brillant!

12 things you didn't know about Micronesia

I frequently come across very interesting tidbits of information at work. I don't know about you, but I don't know much about small Island nations (other than Hawai is a nice place to go for spring break). Here are 12 bits of information you should know about the country of Micronesia (if you count that fact that you didn't know there was a country called Micronesia, make that 13).

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Sources: the State Department, and Wikipedia


(1) Micronesia is often used to refer to several areas in the Pacific. Here, I am talking about the island nation called the Federated States of Micronesia (FSM).

(2) It is located North of Australia, Northeast of Papua New Guinea.

(3) FSM is made up of 607 islands extending 1,800 miles. These islands are divided amongst are major island groups: Pohnpei, Chuuk (pronounce Choo-k), Yap and Kosrae (pronounce kosh-rye). People from these islands are the Pohnpiean, the Chuukese, the Yappese, and the Krosraeans.

(4) You may have heard of these islands through the television show Lost or by reading Oliver Sacks. Wikipedia says:

The fictional American television series Lost has been linked to the island by some fans of the show. A numeric sequence that has prominence in Lost , known simply as 'The Numbers' (4 8 15 16 23 42), happens to correspond to a geographic latitude and longitude (4.815° N 162.342° E) that is not far from Kosrae.

And

The atoll of Pingelap, located several hundred miles to the east of Pohnpei, but part of Pohnpei State, is notable for the prevalence of the extreme form of color blindness known as maskun. Maskun is relatively rare but often shows up in communities with small gene-pools. Pingelap was featured in the book, The Island of the Colorblind, by neurologist Oliver Sacks.

(5) There are about 108,000 people on the islands.

(6) More than one-half of workers are government employees (imagine if you will, 150,000,000 American people working in the government. Scary).

(7) The country obtained its independence UN trusteeship in November 3, 1986.

(8) The GDP per capita is $2,018 (compare that to $43,444 for the United States, $2,007 for Senegal and $ 850 for the Democratic Republic of Congo).

(9) FSM does not have a lot of diverse industries. Income comes from fishing, agriculture, and tourism. Income also comes from the Compact of Free Association, a contract of sorts in which the United States gives FSM money until 2023, for the right to monitor its international waters.

(10) The currency is the U.S. dollar, and the common language is English.

(11) Under the Amended Compact of Free Association, Americans can live and work freely in the FSM without the need for a visa.

(12) The ancestors of the Micronesians first settled the islands over four thousand years ago. The Portuguese, looking for the Spice Islands of Indonesia for settled FSM. Then it was sold to the Germans in 1899 and conquered by Japan in 1914. It was seized by the United States during World War II and later fell under the United Nations in 1947. It received it’s independence in 1986.

Fascinating! Doesn't it just make you want to go there?

Use thick markers, man!

True, my troubles ain't what they were in the Congo. But I still have very real troubles.

From Harvard Street relays my problems exactly when he says :
I put the cans out at the end of the driveway last night around 10pm. At 6pm today, they were gone.

That has happened to me and my housmates twice... for both the recycling bins and the trash cans! It was soooo irritating and rather frightening to think that the rats would be having a field day with the trash we stored, out of desperation, in our garage for three weeks.

All I can say is Use thick markers, man! I put our address is blocky letters and, so help me God, if I find my trash that says 1443 at 1445's apartment, I am going to kick some serious ass!

Fruit Seller

There's this guy that parks himself and his fruit crates right in the front of our (huge) office building. It strikes me as ironic that he sells things in the same manner as a typical Congolese or Senegalese vendor would--though the fruits are different (apples, chocolate covered strawberries, trail mix versus bananas, mangos and mangosteens)--the crates and the quiet demeanor are the same.

While my Congolese and Senegalese colleagues would flock to vendors for the sake of finding cheap foods, I imagine my American colleagues are looking for some healthy fairs.

This guy must make a killing: the line is always 7 or 8 people long. It's refreshing to see that people are excited about the fresh-fruits-and-nuts-guy instead of rushing to the cheetos-cheetah and snapple-lady.

Bomb Threat Procedures

So I'm reading a cute little brochure for the building in which I work (the dry cleaners, the snickers seller and all that) and notice this rather innocuous-looking item on the back:

Bomb Threat Procedures

If a bomb threat is received, notify Security (xxx-xxx-xxxx) immediately.
Note: Use call trace – to activate this feature, dial “*”, then the numbers x and x immediately after hanging up on the caller.
The employee is to note the time of the call, the line it was received on, and call Security with this information.
Additionally, the person receiving the call should try to gather as much information from the caller as possible. This information should include the following:

When is the bomb going to explode?
Where is the bomb?
What does it look like?
What kind of bomb is it?
What will cause it to explode?
Did you place the bomb?
Why? Where are you calling from?
What is your address?
What is your name?
Did the caller have an accent?
Did the voice sound familiar?
Where there any background noises?
Was the caller male or female, and what would you estimate as his/her approximate age?
Where there any other distinctive traits about the caller?
Any and all information that can be provided will be helpful.

Yikes! If someone calls you with a bomb threat, are you really going to stick around the office to ask all those questions?

Washington D.C.’s artsy too!

...In a political kind of way.

Frankly, I'm a little tired of my friends telling me D.C. lacks soul. It does not. I swear. Take for example, these painted televisions that have been popping up in the city:

Painted television at the corner of Harvard and 16th street

I have no idea what it is, or what it represents. But it is art, right? Somehow, it feels laden with political meaning. How very D.C.

Now if I could only figure out what it represents...

Sssh!! The Potatoes have eyes…

I’ve been working in my job for three weeks now and desperately trying to keep up on health news. It’s hard because your usual websites like CNN and BBC aren’t very scientifically minded, and though The New England Journal of Medicine is pretty detailed in describing protein pathways, well, it’s just not the kind of health news that needs to be on my radar.

But I have to say, the more I know, the more depressed I get. I mean, what are we doing to our poor planet by continuing to drive monster trucks for short commutes to work, prohibiting teenagers from getting the proper Reproductive Health knowledge, inventing reasons to go to war, and completely disregarding the law on gun use?

I finish my work day with a heavy heart and increasingly distressed about life in general. It’s just not healthy.

And you know what else is not healthy? Potatoes that have been left to grow eyes and flower in a bowl in the kitchen. I mean, did you even know that potatoes could flower? It’s just unnatural.

(Actual picture of Potatoes in a friend's kitchen)

My very own Bump Identity!

The author of the Bumps has created a Bump Identity for me! It kind of looks like a mutated marshmellow eating a strawberry cheesecake. Which is increadibly appropriate in a way.

You can read her response here. Thanks!

Planting a Seed

A friend from High School started a website called Sprout to showcase her Bumps creatures, artistic talents and consultancy services.

Awww, looks just like those cuddly, cute palm grubs people eat in the Congo

I'm not sure how she became so creative because, let me tell you, our High School squelched anything remotely creative, free-thinking and originial in each and every one of us. But I figure something must have planted a seed.

My most salient memory of her is during German class. It must have been in German class because I remember being bored out of my skull and totally clueless to what was going on around me. Although to be fair, that could have pretty much described any classes in High School.

She was sitting behind me and eating a babybel. She took the wax covering from the cheese and rolled it into a perfectly circular, shiny ball. Then she remodeled the wax again and made a little mermaid. I swear this is true! A mermaid made out of Babybel wax. Ahhh, good times.

Anyways, looks like she’s progressed well beyond the food art and into, into... well, weird creature-making. Go check out her most excellent Christmas video of the Bumps or directly on Youtube.

007 in India

Seems like another family member is capitalizing on MY fame. Not satisfied that my sister decided to use 007inCanada as her code name, my brother went ahead and used 007inIndia.

Go check it out!

Split Personality

So I started my new job. As an act of kind of kindness to me I suppose, my colleagues have been reluctant to give me too much work the first week...and the second...then I go slammed.

In addition to the slamming of work, I have to commute to two offices depending on my mood and workload. If I go to the Rockville office (Twinbrook metro stop), it takes me an hour by bus and metro. It's far from anything and anyone and there is not a single bar to drink my sorrows away after work. I swear I am not kidding. It's the most desolate place to which I've been. And trust me, I've been to some pretty remote places. But I have my own, lonely office so I guess that's something.

Sometimes I decide to shorten my commute and go to our Washington D.C. office. I work in the "swing" space, which is a poetic expression for a hot and sweaty cubicle. I am in the center of the action and sometimes feel like I am dodging bullets. It's fast, hectic, and panicked.

Having two offices is a bit like have a split personality. One is a sweet 9 year old girl that does as she's told. The other is an old woman who uses her umbrella to spear people out of her way.

Fingers of an 80 year-old woman

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I had to give my fingerprints today. I warned the security office that I have been dubbed “the girl with fingers of an 80 year-old woman”. Indeed, it seems that my fingertips do not have the usual deep grooves and ridges fingers usually have. The security person taking care of my file laughed and told me the office had a new “water-based” machine that could lift the print of off anyone.

I placed my finger on the monitor and rotated from one side to the next. The computer showed that there was only a 73% match, but 75% was a passing grade. The picture of my fingerprint on the screen looked minutely grooved and general smooth.

Miffed, we tried it again. Three times. With water droplets rubbed into the tip of my finger, then heavy Vaseline cream. I tried pushing hard, pushing lightly, and pushing my finger with my other index to help it along. Finally we get an acceptable print. After undergoing the same process for each finger (imagine 5 times x 10 fingers), we finally decided to leave well enough alone and kept the best prints.

I must have looked worried, because the man walking past me said “I really don’t think that you have the profile of a criminal so don’t worry about it”. But then I (jokingly) answered “well you never know, the scariest things come in small packages”.

D’oh! I’m so retarded.

Memories of the Congo

Carl the Pilot was in town a few days ago and had dinner with me. We invited a roomate of mine and proceeded to talk non-stop about our experiences in the Congo for a few hours.

Oblivious to her obvious sign of boredom (yawning, slowly fluttering eyes, fuzzy gaze and faint smile), we just talked, and talked, and talked some more.

I guess our adventures are not exciting as initially thought. Oh well, no matter, it was fun!

I really don't want to spoil the fun, but Carl has some awesome news. Update your bloody blog Carl!

Not Saving the World...Yet

Well, I think that it's safe to say that I'm not saving the world yet. Today in my new job, I have:

1. Gone to the cafeteria and poured over the yellowing lettuce, cheese and ham to decide the best lunch combination
2. Labelled a few pieces of paper into a meticulous well-organized folder
3. Called the same three people 10 times
4. Gone to the water fontain no less than five time to refill my plastic bottle

...excuse me while I go to the ladies room (my fourth time today).

Two music venues

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Two days ago, I went to see Toumani Diabate, a wonderful Malian Kora player. Because I am too lazy now to talk about it, I am transcribing the Lisner Auditorium description:

Toumani Diabate’s Symmetric Orchestra
Diabate is the vanguard of a new generation of griots from Mali who are both modernizing and honoring traditional music. Toumani is a performer of truly exceptional virtuosity and creativity and his Symmetric Orchestras id an expert everything from age-old Malian standards to contemporary Cuban-Senegalese salsa.

The best compliment I can pay Toumani is that listening to his and his orchestra’s music --instantly, vividly and for a full 2 hours-- transported me back to Senegal, warm sandy breezes, salt-soaked hair and all.

Tonight, I went to see an Opera called “La Filled du Regiment” at the Kennedy Center. Diametrically opposite to Toumani’s performance of course but immensely entertaining. This is a light, funny piece that had the audience laughing quite often.

The best compliment I can pay “La Filled du Regiment” is that I didn’t nod off to sleep and actually paid attention to the story. And that, my friends, is a feat!

First day at work (again)

(I swear, I've had 4 different jobs in the span of 2.5 years. It gets old quickly).

My first day of work was disappointedly uneventful. Oh, other than the fact that the human resources person who was supposed to meet me in the lobby downtown at 8:15am didn’t give me sign of life until 11:20am. And then only to tell me that she had been sick since Wednesday, and hadn’t she called me to let me know? Nope.

Then I went to the other office uptown (it took me an hour), and just kind of chilled out and thought about how I would decorate my office. Very few people were actually in the office and it kind of felt like London during the second World War. You know the feeling: there ought to be a crowd of people busily going about their business but it's earily silent because a bomb just dropped.

The most stressful part of my day was that my middle toe (noticeably bigger than the other toes) poked a hole in my pantyhose and I had to walk around all day with one toe and a half sticking out of the hose. Very uncomfortable.

I hate hose.

My family is nuts

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So, as you may remember, my immediate family has been in all sorts of different places this year. There was a point in time where:

-I was living in the Democratic Republic of Congo
-My Dad was living in Madagscar
-My Mom was doing the back and forth between Madagascar and France
-My Brother was based in London but worked in the Middle East for a consulting gig
-My Sister was studying in Canada





It was nuts because I never knew where my brother was; I would call three numbers in Madagascar and two in France before I could locate my mom, and I had to send an email to the whole family to let them know when I would in the field and out of email reach.

Nuts!


(I won't even cover the rest of my cousins who are in South Africa, America, France, Australia, New Zealand, Thailand, Bostwana...)





I was going to happily announce that my parents and I are back in the United States, but my brother just announced that he will be conducting a study in India for 6 months! And my sister is likely to go to South America for volunteering in clinics after she graduates.

Nuts I tell you!

Shocking news! More fighting in Kinshasa!

OK this is not so shocking news (given that there's always fighting in the capital of the DRC and that this news is a few days old); however, this particularly bout of fighting was particularly violent and deadly.

KINSHASA, Democratic Republic of Congo (Reuters) -- Up to 600 people were killed in the Congolese capital last week in fighting between the army and a former rebel leader's forces which "seriously wounded" the democratic process, European Union ambassadors said on Tuesday.

The fighting erupted on Thursday after troops loyal to former presidential candidate Jean-Pierre Bemba refused an order to disarm. Machine gun fire and mortars rocked the riverside capital for two days before Bemba's forces were routed.

[…]

It was the first fighting in Kinshasa since landmark presidential elections last year -- heavily financed by the international community and aimed at restoring peace to the mineral-rich central African state after a 1998-2003 war. […]

President Joseph Kabila's victory was overwhelmingly accepted as legitimate by national and international elections observers monitoring Congo's first democratic polls in more than four decades.

"This is not necessarily the death (of the democratic process), but the process is seriously wounded," said British Ambassador Andy Sparkes, one of around a dozen European envoys who spoke to journalists.

I feel extremely frustrated by this turn of event and feel like throwing my arms up in resignation – it seems like Congo will never have stability and peace. But mostly, I am worried for my old colleagues – the American ones that regaled me with tales of hiding in each other’s houses, having their children stuck under their desks at school for 48 hours, and needing to rescue their cats before they starved to death. But in am extremely worried for my Congolese colleagues who, though the live in the suburbs away from the city center, are often more vulnerable than American because they do not have stockpiles of food and not guards to defend them.

To catch up on blogs from people stuck in the midst of these events, visit these very interesting accounts at Congogirl, and Light in the Heart of Darkness,

I finally got a job!

I can't tell you how excited I am about having a new job - though from the tone of my posts of the last 8 months, it's easy to see why this is a good thing. I can't stop being in a good mood. I smile lots. My mouth hurts and I scare people who don't usually see me this bubbly. This is what I wrote to colleagues at my part-time work:

Dear All,

I will be leaving the XXX for a full-time job in YYY at the end of this week. Though this new position fits my interests and qualifications in the health field, I will sad to leave the agency.

I really enjoyed my time here and appreciate having had the opportunity to work with you. I will remember the mission of the agency, the partners in the field, the excitement over new potential projects and, of course, the Friday Happy Hours. I leave with a newfound understanding of how investments in local businesses can contribute to the field of development.

A very special thanks to all those who provided me with guidance and granted me informational meetings while I was undertaking my job search.

Please do keep in touch, I can be reached at my personal email address don't@you.wish.you.had.it.com or on my cell phone at (555) 555-1234.

Thanks again for everything.

Best Regards,
007 in Africa