This is Africa

Driving down the highway, windows down, radio blaring Africana music in a Toyota cargo truck that’s probably older than I am, driving to the village to interview women about empowerment- it hit me, this is the moment, this is Africa, this is what I came here to do.  This is satisfaction, this is summertime, this is sublime. 

Wide open spaces, with long grasses and sparse trees.  Three men pushing a car through the dust.  We’re packed tight into the cab of the truck, and we keep stopping to drop people riding in the back at various locations.   There’s either Chinese or Japanese characters all over the truck, and the driver reminded me to at least pretend to wear my seat belt before we pass the police check point- I had completely forgotten.  I had no idea what was going on, I didn’t speak the language, and I didn’t care.    

That morning, the manager at the women’s cooperative that I wanted to research called me and said that they were going out to collect the product from the village, that they had a translator, and that a truck would pick me up in 10 minutes.  And then she hung up. 

The truck showed up 20 minutes later.  I tried to ask when we’d be back, but they didn’t understand me and they didn’t know.  I just got in.  We stopped twice on the 10 minute drive to the cooperative to drop people off.  We stopped briefly at the cooperative, I spoke 2 words to the manager, and we left.  We stopped for KFC, we stopped to collect money from someone, we stopped to buy a prepaid phone card, we stopped to get the mail.  This is Africa, and you just go with it. 

These are some of the women I interviewed.  As we passed, this was just too picturesque for me not to document.