Ordinary Stories of (Un)Ordinary Lives

Home To Roost by gcpetrop79

Working in a developing country is a window into international dialogue.  (I just got a semi from that amazing ‘first sentence…’)  This dialogue can sometimes seem to be not between nations of millions, but akin to the squawking and bellowing between lovers, friends, neighbors, mothers in law and other stereotypical ‘can’t live with’em, can’t do without’em’ types.

The dialogue I refer to is the continuing back and forth between the developing country and its ‘development partners.’  In Uganda’s case, for example, it can be old colonial ‘masters,’ G8 donors, regional power-players and other colorful associations of this type.

As a foreign national in Uganda, and due to the nature of my job, 15-20 minutes each day are spent scanning the two newspapers.  In these, I read the comments made on Uganda’s develop(ing)ment issues from the EU, the USA, the UK, AU, and other United acronyms of Benetton.  I also read the responses from Ugandans.  These range from the politicians and/or ministers who are responsible for the topic at hand, health, defense, disaster mitigation to common citizens concerned about how the world sees their country, and, more importantly, at least to me, concerned about how their government’s representatives… represent them. Over the last two years, I have laughed, cringed, become angry, and sometimes very somber and sad with the opinions shared and batted back and forth on these pages.  From mismanagement of funds and corruption and extortion, to HIV/AIDS issues and laws against homosexuals, everything has been in there and in international press.

What has stood out to date has been some of the more colorful comments, or the jingoistic attacks and ripostes, references by old African men to colonial abuses, and thinly veiled, contempt-riddled and very high-handed sweeping generalizations on the part of the ‘developed’ donors and bilateral partners.  So far, it’s been something to give me interest and to look into, but today I read something that ‘clicked’ certain things into place for me.

As I read news from a Greek online source about the ongoing financial crisis in Europe and more specifically in Greece, I came across an article saying that certain members of the German parliament has said something to the effect that if Greeks wanted Germans’ money then they should simply sell them some islands.  Corfu immediately came to mind, as lots of Germans go there.  I thought then, hm, if that weren’t so hurtful (as a Greek, it is impossible not to feel the depression and tightness from my country even here, thousands of miles away) it would be downright infuriating.  And I was taken aback at their lack of sensitivity and myopic, long-range understanding of the issues.  Me, of course, the Greek, with my 100% understanding of everything in Greece!!!  (Right?)

And a second later it hit me!  Only one week ago, when Germans had (rightly), as a country, voiced their indignation and outrage at being, in an underhanded way, once again asked to bail out Greece’s finances, certain ‘senior’ (mostly in weight) politicians in Greece had as usual risen to the call and once again heaped what they thought was righteous anger on their German Euro-siblings.  In actuality, they had simply said things that were so ridiculous that even the Greek press lampooned them.  Let us call these two retards ‘Palin’ and ‘Coulter.’

‘Palin,’ the speaker of parliament, had said that Germany (don’t ask me how the hell this man arrived at this from where the conversation originated) should not be so quick to judge because… Greece had 2 Nobel laureates in the last 40-50 years and Germany none.  Naturally the Greek press was quick to point out that Bach, Nietzsche, Erasmus (is he a German?) etc. were simply unfortunate not to be born after Mr. Nobel, but in fact Germany was not a wasteland of large steins and good cars but also a cradle of some of the most important philosophies and arts of Western civilization.  Apparently, ‘Palin’ had missed that part.

The second dipshit, ‘Coulter,’ deputy PM of our cradle of souvlakia, managed to unwrap his fat-ass mouth from around the latest piece of tax-supported lobster-pasta to rattle off his own righteous fury at the nerve of these upstarts North of Hadrian’s wall, millions of which had already forgotten that (verbatim) ‘the Nazi army stole the gold from Greece’s central bank in WW II.’  Yes, that Greece, the one which was seeing dictator after dictator, and which sent donkeys in the mountains to fight off airplanes.  (Good thing they were Italians, or we may have had problems… OH! The burn…)  So, again, the newspapers reminded the Greeks that in fact, although West Germany had paid something like 40 million Euro equivalence in the 60s, maybe we shouldn’t also forget the 30+ billion Euro Germany had sent our way which we as bon vivante Greeks had danced and plate-smashed our way through in our efforts to bone the German tourist chicks.  (On Corfu.  See how this all goes around?  There ya go!)  I so wished at that point for a massive fucking coronary for this asshole.

In the end, I was pissed off at how fucking arrogant the Germans could be, to make statements like that about selling off Greek soil.  I was also angry at the level of geopolitical acumen of our retards in Athens, who so fucking quickly reverted to… uh oh, there it went… I was now doing the thing where your eyes don’t blink and you have an ‘epiphany…’ yes- those dudes in the papers that I read about in Uganda.  Poorer country, at the edge of doom, barely hanging on, out of their wits and at the end of the road, resorting to the only comments that could ignite in them any self-respect… colonialism or imperialism or conquest… equating it to today’s ‘modern’ approaches to both of these: client state politics, pipeline real-politik and ‘shut up or I turn off the tap’ strong-arm tactics.

Finally I understood those weak, little-heard citizens who not only wanted a small share of what everyone else was getting, but also wished that those representing them were different, better… more advanced and altruistic.  Home to roost, indeed.

Shame on the arrogance and thick skin of the strong.  And shame on the small-minded, introspective inferiority complex of the weaker.  It’s 2010.  But I believe that maybe the day Monica blew Bill was year 0 for geosocial progress and liberalism.  Welcome to year circa -14 (depending on when exactly Bill was blown) of our regressive, pathetic decline as a race.

Next week: The progress of my tanning initiative and why I may not have tan lines this summer!  Don’t miss it!

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