My bros just left Cape Verde for America after their whirlwind vacation, which was incredible and which I appreciated more than they’ll ever know. Not seeing family for ten months is difficult. But anyway, silly American miniscule vacations… Our European friends shake their heads in pity, appreciating the +/-1 month they get each year.
I was on http://www.peacecorpswiki.org recently which got me thinking about things we miss or that leave us behind. Serving in Cape Verde, is not, as my brothers found, like disappearing into the deserts of Niger or the forests of one of the former Soviet “Stans,” but it’s different than the States.
A universal loss is our grasp of the English language. In CV volunteers interact more often than at other posts, and many Cape Verdeans speak English, but still words escape us. I’m extremely glad I took the GRE already. When I came, my English was very good and I spoke decent Spanish. Now I speak simple Kriolu, broken Portuguese, no Spanish, and ever deteriorating English.
When the bros arrived I put on a mix of popular discoteca music in São Filipe. Cape Verdean funana, zouk, and rap mingle with Banda Calipso from Brazil; reggae from Bob Marley and Lucky Dube; and what we believed to be the latest Akon and other hip-hop stars.
“Have you heard this song, “Forever,” by Chris Brown? It just hit Cape Verde.”
“Uh actually that’s about eight months old. Haven’t you heard about how he beat up Rihanna?”
It seems the “latest” Akon is about six months old, and probably played out in the US. We still enthusiastically dance to it in the discos, not least because for once we understand the words. The tables are turned on our Cape Verdean partners.
Another phenomenon is Twitter. All these headlines we’ve seen during our precious internet time about what Oprah wrote or that Senator Whoever Twittered during some speech. What does it mean? Why is it so popular? And after having it explained multiple times by an IT volunteer and my bros: Why does anyone waste their time with this crap?
I excitedly pointed out the large canister of cinnamon I found in a shop in Mosteiros, or the abundance of meats in Praia supermarkets, to Chris’ rolled eyes. Buying spices in bulk, as opposed to in overpriced packets containing several tablespoons at best, isn’t tantalizing? It’s bad enough experiencing culture shock going from Fogo to Santiago. What’ll it be like going to Meijer or Kroger in the US for the first time?
I remember the first supermarket I entered after a month in Ghana. It was in Onekama in northern Michigan, on the shores of Portage Lake and across the street from the once glorious but apparently now shuttered Tuttens bar. Mary, Shanka, Ammar, Fairgrieve, Hobey, and Jamie (Sorry if I’ve omitted someone) practically had to drag me from the “vast” (the Onekama IGA is not Super Wal-Mart) selection of meats, breads, canned goods. Of course, no one sold skewers of grasscutter, ie overgrown rodent, or guinea fowl, by the road, to every American’s detriment.
I’ve been in Cape Verde ten months, and it’s amazing how much we’ve missed. What’ll it be like in fall 2010 when I return? For me at least, it’s more humorous than devastating. It’s the time not spent with family and friends that hurts. But I know when I step into the terminal at Lansing’s Capital City Airport after this adventure, while I will still be unfashionable, behind the times on music and IT, and shocked by the selection at the airport café, my family will be there and we’ll pick up like we’d only been apart a matter of minutes, not years.
