Yesterday evening, at the Alliance Francaise de Chicago, RPCV Tony D'Souza read from his recently published debut novel,
Whiteman, which is closely connected to his Peace Corps experience in Cote d'Ivoire from 2000 to 2002, though still a work of fiction.
What I think I enjoyed most were not the two passages he read from
Whiteman, though they were very good. As usual, I was much more interested in what he had to say about his Peace Corps experience and the way he responded to questions. He's a good story teller, which I suppose you might expect from a writer. But not all writers are good oral story tellers. Often, rather than answer a question with an opinion or generalization, he would pull from his head a very specific moment from, in this case, his life as a volunteer. And this was so much more interesting.
He started by pre-emptively answering a question he's frequently asked. "Are you nervous to have to speak in front of so many people when you give readings?" "No. Now I'll explain why. In Cote d'Ivoire I was there to try and educate people about HIV/AIDS. Before speaking to the children in a village, I had to get the permission of the village's chief, and there are a whole host of social loops that you need to go through in order to that. When I did finally speak with him, out of respect, I would not look directly at him. Then, when I spoke to groups of children, there were often three or four hundred of them. We would all gather together and I would speak to them about sex. During every presentation, at some point, from my things, I would take out a wooden penis. Then I'd take out a condom and role it down the wooden penis. (pause) At readings? No, I'm not nervous."
Later, a woman asked whether or not missionaries were still working in Cote d'Ivoire; they had been when she was there over forty years ago. His answer was not "yes." He told of how he had known of some Christian missionaries working in a Muslim part of the country. They lived in the largest house in town. In the over twenty years this missionary couple had lived in Cote d'Ivoire, they had converted two muslims to Christianity, and one of these had made the switch in order to get an education. One day, Tony was invited over for lunch. Muslims are forbidden to eat pork.
"So," Tony asked, "do you know what was being served for lunch? (pause) Ham. (pause) I don't like to talk about missionaries."
In general, I was just really impressed at his ability to talk about his experience and to put me there in his village; to make me care about a place I have never seen. He also emphasized how each and every volunteer's experience is completely unique and unlike no one else's.
That said, here's a joke:
Queston: "How many Peace Corps Africa volunteers does it take to change a lightbulb?"
Answer: (very emotionally and defensively) "YOU DON'T KNOW!! YOU WEREN'T THERE!!!"
Tony D'Souza's Peace Corps service in Cote d'Ivoire ended abruptly with the start of a civil war. I asked him after the reading if he'd ever had the chance to say goodbye to the people and friends in his village. The answer is" no." He's been home for three years and has never received one word or been able to send one word there, mainly because his village lies deep in resistance territory where there is no postal service.
That's difficult to imagine.
