this is not a complaint at all. just letting some of you know what actually is happening/happened in my life. and some thoughts on that. i hope you enjoy.
as i was on my way home taking the cta red line from a very long night celebrating a friend birthday that lives on the other side of town a man sitting diagonally across the train sets from me, starts up a conversation with me.
this black man has a strong accent, short black man curly hair and wearing clothing that would be a mix between normal clothing and african clothing and bright blue shoes.
it goes as follows...
man: does it grow like that?
me: what?
man: does it grow like that? (as the man rubs the side of his chin with the outside of a closed hand).
me: what do you mean?
man: different.
me: oh red? yeah its normal.
man: really? but its different then your head.
me: yup, but its natural.
man: really? you dont do anything to it? its that colour?
me: yeah its just that color. dont know why really, it just is.
man: thats strange.
me: yeah i guess so.
man: so it grows like that?
me: yeah. it does.
man: but its different. is your fathers like that?
me: no its his is black.
man: really?
me: yeah i joke with my mom that i must have come from the milk man.
man: what?
me: i joke with my mother about me not being my fathers son.
man: (smiles)... but you look like your father?
me: yeah, oh yeah, look just like him, just different hair.
man: oh you just joke, thats fine. would not be good if it was true.
me: you have a strong accent. where are you from?
man: i just moved here.
me: where?
man: africa.
me: where in africa?
man: central africa.
me: where in central africa?
man: congo.
me: oh cool.
man: you know where that is?
me: yes. my girl friend was in gauna for 3 months as an intern at a college teaching about socials and farming.
man: is she black?
me: no, she is white.
man: where is she?
me: back home. in michigan. i moved to chicago in january. when did you come?
man: yes i moved here 2 months ago from congo with my wife and 2 kids. i came from the democratic one.
me: yeah ok cool. why did you move here?
man: to find a job. to find a learning job.
me: like a teacher?
man: no a student. i want to go to school and learn more.
me: whats your job now?
man: i have no job.
me: what are you job skills?
man: i was a french school teacher. i also did a lot of other things like a import export manager for a large company in the congo.
me: thats cool.
man: yes i only learned some english, i know french because thats what we speak there.
me: yes it was a french colony for a long time.
man: so does it grow the same here (as he points to his face) as here (as he rubs his upper chest)?
me: no it grows in black.
man: really? its black.
me: (i can tell the man is very interested and confused)
man: what about here (as he points to under his arm) and what about down there (as he points to his crouch)?
me: (at this moment it was so awkward but so intriguing i couldnt get offended. this man wasnt being dirty or anything. he was just having a conversation like it was no big deal. so i decide to continue) its all black too. my legs are red/blond though.
man: really?
me: yes.
man: is it rough?
me: it matters how long it is.
man: does your lady like it.
me: matters how long it is.
man: oh. can i feel it (as he puts his left hand out in a half closed fist)?
me: (at this moment i know he was just innocently curios and there was nothing wrong) yeah sure.
the man rubs my beard. then pinches a bit of it and does the same to my hair on my head.
man: strange. its strange that its so many colors.
me: yeah i know, dont know what to tell you.
we talk more but nothing much i remember.
we hit the next stop on the line.
man: i have to get off here. i have to go get cards. its the only place that sells these cards. then i have to go up farther to go home.
me: ok. well it was great talking to you.
man: yes it was.
that man got off the train. and i road till my stop.
since i have moved. i have felt a lack of love. my love language is acts of services and physical touch. which in the chicago culture is very off the beaten path which is, dont bother other people and dont get in each others way.
and to have a man from across the world decide it was ok to start a conversation about the most trivia thing and actually be enjoying it and interested and even willing to ask a stranger to touch his face with not even a beat of real cultural questioning of "is this weird"? it really throw me back.
i had my tires slashed the other day. i have 18 co-works. 3 live near me. and most have vehicles. when i told them why i was late. only one was willing to pick me up to help me bring my tires in. and when i said i need to bring my rims to a place near my house. not one person suggested or offered to bring me back. i know i should expect it and i know people are busy and some do have a family and other responsibilities to get too. but i can honestly say i would have drove an hour each way to help some one with that problem or any other problem like that. something that completely disrupts your life and how you function in it.
im kind of sad there is a culture so removed from the idea of helping a neighbor thats in needs. and sorry that for those that have helped only to get burned with no return favors, thanks or even acknowledgement.
i feel sometimes we need a bit of african culture in our lifes, the willingness to open a conversation on the train about nothing in particular. or a bit of indian culture where it is very common for men to walk hand in hand that are friends. or like the amish that travel miles with their family to help a friend/brother or just another amishmen that needs a barn thrown up.
no summary.
end.
i do really do miss
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