27 March 2007

light 'em up

One of my faithful readers responded to my last posting with, "god, who smokes anymore?" The answer is: All of South Africa, practically. Imagine this: I tagged along one evening as my host went to play 'Action' (read: indoor) cricket in the basement of a shopping mall in Durban. People -- those playing, those observing, those taking a break to watch the cricket world cup on TV -- were lighting up all over the place (though not, I admit, on the 'field' itself). It was the craziest thing I've ever seen.

The mall, by the by, was called 'Game City', which I found confusing, if appropriate. There is a 'Game City' in Gaborone, but its name comes from the presence of a store called 'Game'. The mall in Durban no longer has a Game, but one can go there to play games (e.g., action cricket). There is, no doubt, some fancy linguistic term for this, but I can't think of it right now.

26 March 2007

quintessence of Durbs

I don't care what you say. They may look like two countries that happen to share a geopolitical border, but I submit that Botswana and South Africa are actually two wildly different dimensions.

I just got back from a week in ZA. The border nearest Gaborone (on the other side of Tlokweng (a sub-district that borders Gabs) closes at 10pm. I actually didn't know when it closed, especially on a Sunday, and spent the last 150km of road in South Africa in a bit of a panic, wondering if I would be turned away. (I imagined myself staying up all night, smoking an entirely pack of marlboro lights to keep myself awake, etc., etc.) I took the number of lorries I saw on the road headed towards the border as a good sign, though, assuming they knew more than I did.

I squeaked through the border at 9:30pm. I'm getting better at going through the strange complex of institutions that is the border, e.g., writing down my car registration number on both the ZA and Bots sides of the border, filling out the forms, standing in the right lines, getting various pieces of paper stamped. It's not all that different from any other border, I suppose, and a lot less hectic than most. That said, it's easier when one is familiar with where to go and what to do. Congratulations, border, on successful interpellation! Revel in the discipline your subjects take upon themselves!

... and that set of comments, my friends, should tell you enough about the week. If it's still unclear, the following list should suffice: I read more Adorno last week than I've read in the past year; I was asked to explain abductive reasoning off the top of my head (and couldn't do it); I found myself putting forth a critique about Jan Vansina's use of evidence in Paths in the Rainforests and his conceptualization of the sign; I suggested early childhood faux pas as a means of illustrating Goffmanian 'fronts'.

Someone out there has already coined the term 'Goffmania'. You can't win them all, I suppose.

Do you see what I mean about this being another dimension?

Durban itself is lovely and bizarre. Much more lively than Gabs, but that doesn't take much, I suppose. It's very green and very hilly. It rained some while I was there, but most of it was a gentle mist that made even my shrubbery of hair feel soft. (My hair made a serious bid to stay in Durban.) The coffee was good, the conversation stimulating (if full to bursting with inuendos), and the sushi free (another story entirely). I smoked far, far too many cigarettes. I appreciated on more than one level the fact that some women in Durbs say goodbye to each other with a kiss on the lips. Racial politics in Durban are a thing (but I'm not the person to elaborate on that, and I'm certainly not suggesting they're somehow more of a thing than anywhere else in ZA). Bunny chow is also a thing -- and a very tasty thing, too, though the name's proximity to an American racial slur never fails to freak me out.

The friend I was visiting, his sister and I went down to the beach to look at the mess made by the 'freak waves' that hit Durban the day before I arrived. The sand had been pushed up the beach all the way to the paved promenade that separates the beach proper from beachfront shops and restraurants, some of which had been flooded when the waves broke through glass windows and doors. We joined other 'voyeurs of destruction' -- oh, yes: we went there -- peering through the mixture of dirty windows and plywood to see cooking equipment and ice cream cones mingled on the floor with sand and debris.

That said, my impression of Durban is much of more of hills than beach, of pawn shops than uShaka Marine World, of nicotine than masala pineapple. This was not the 'Durban as Playground' experience, but, knowing my host as I do, I hardly expected that, and I've no complaints.

This could be yet another chapter in a bizarre retelling of City Mouse and Country Mouse wherein urban ZA shatters whatever level of comfort I've built in Gabs. For a girl who felt like she'd switched planets rather than just crossed the border, I think I managed to conduct myself with some rudiments of grace, or at least not make a complete ass of myself. No... to be honest, I think I did make a complete ass of myself, and I am smarting from it. Smarting enough to want to break my rule about only smoking on Fridays and/or in ZA. Nothing is as bewildering to this girl as being blind-sided by her own feelings, or as embarrassing as doing a shit job of communicating them.

But Gabs refuses me the rain to go with the aesthetic of cigarettes and irony in which I might have, under different circumstances, indulged. And I could hoist my social theory sail to the wind and berate my project of self-understanding as the hallmark of a socio-historically situated middle-class, over-educated position. But I have a lot of writing to do, and, in the end, I need some data to hang my over-theorized positions on, so it's back to the daily grind of the paediatric clinic. So many cubic metres the more in my cistern / Against a leonine summer...

17 March 2007

Jerusalem, Jerusalem...

I don't care what you say. I think Thomas Tallis' settings of the first two verses of the first chapter of the Book of Lamentations is one of the most beautiful songs of longing in the world. How can anyone listen to the voices of the choir plead with Jerusalem and not ache?

(For the Latin and translation, see here. I'm listening to the Tallis Scholars' version; read the liner notes.)

07 March 2007

merit badge (and other news)

I just conducted my first ever on-the-record, fully consented, I-have-written-permission-to-quote-from-this interview. And it's an hour and three-quarters long.

Huh. I might just get this dissertation done after all.

... and on that note, here's an illustration of why I'm thankful to be beyond the 'pre-field' stage. (Warning: requires some time to download.)

(Apologies to members of the pre-field crowd for the gloating, and thanks for posting the link!)

In other news, that great (if confounding) theorist of post-modernism, Jean Baudrillard,is dead. Let us raise our collective glasses to a man who probably confused more people than he could begin to know. I suppose a hyperlink to his obituary in the NYT is a strangely suitable form with which to salut him. Ah, the ecstasy of communication!

01 March 2007

the mother of invention

Happiness is winning enough at pub trivia to pay for your drinks and your dinner.

This is even happier when you realize that you haven't got your wallet on you, anyway.

And the height of happiness is the relief that you feel when, having paid your way at dinner with the winnings from trivia, you find your wallet, which you feared missing or stolen, waiting for you on the seat of your car.

(Of course, if you weren't a bleeding idiot, none of that wallet-related anxiety wouldn't have been necesary, but then you wouldn't have had quite the adrenaline rush, would you?)