Re-entry

Whistler and Conakry cannot be more different. Perhaps choosing Whistler as our re-entry point into Canadian society was not such a good idea. Reverse culture shock masochists would be the best way to describe us, considering we chose one of the world's most posh and affluent ski resorts to spend the first week of our Xmas break after leaving the despair of one of the world's poorest and bleakest cities. Within barely 72 hours, we journeyed from one end of the social culture spectrum to the other. I know, we should be more careful. Messing around with our fragile minds and cushy psyches like that could be dangerous. A bit like taking a porcelain plate out of the freezer and dipping it into hot water...it’s bound to break.

Oddly enough, Madeleine and I seem to be taking the acute contrasts better than Nadine and Patrick. But then, Patrick, poor kid, hadn’t even gotten over the jet-lag of the trip to Africa before we wedged him back in his Air France seat for the trip back. And Nadine, well, she and her 30+ feet of gastrointestinal tract still hasn’t really processed or gotten over that curdled milk and fried goat gonads that she ate during her street food venture into the back streets of Conakry. But, no one has broken yet, although there have been a few awkward reminders that have brought to light the fact that we share this planet with societies that are worlds apart. Patrick would win the top prize for the best of these reminders.

On the first day back from Conakry, Patrick decided to go to Douglas College and pay for next semester’s tuition. Patrick’s mode of transportation since the age of 16 has been his skateboard. Patrick is an avid and very skillful skateboarder. Now a days, these contraptions are no longer just skateboards, but caster-boards, rib-boards, and whatever-else-boards. They seem to have less and less wheels on them as time progresses, and according to those who know what they are talking about, (not moi, I admit), the less wheels one has on the board, the funner they are. It would be safe to say that, unless you’ve already spent half of your life on one of these mobile contrivances, these boards on wheels are just accidents waiting to happen. Rumor has it that they were invented by some big pain-numbing pill-making pharmaceutical company as a marketing plan to sell more post-fall medication. Like I said, Patrick is very agile on the board, he glides over pavement, hobbles and wobbles over rocks with ease, and even though when he first started out frustration and injuries often came, his acquired and present expertise on wheels prevents him from falling off his board...until that fateful day.

On his way back from Douglas College, he took a hard tumble and fell on his derriere. Let’s not forget here that he had just come out of a grueling 33 hours journey, gone through 8 time zones, and consequently had an acute case of jet-lag that was unavoidably messing with his head, not to mention the obliteration of any semblance of a sleeping pattern he could have kept after spending the past two weeks in Africa. Although nothing was broken, it must have hurt, it hurt, like really really hurt. Unfortunately, it was not only the fall that hurt. When the tumble occurred, a lady was coming towards him and witnessed the whole death defying tumble as well as the post-tumble look of agony on Patrick’s face. In spite of the accident that had just played out in front of her, she continued her walk, completely ignoring the fact that a person, a fellow human being, had just taken a bad fall right before her eyes, and could very well have broken his neck. She just walked by, not acknowledging the stunned yet obviously agonizing Patrick on the ground. Finally, Patrick got up, brushed himself off, got back on his rib-board, and continued on his not so merry way, with a bruised bum due to the fall and a bruised psyche due to the reaction, or lack of reaction, of the lady.

Later, when telling us of his misadventure, Patrick editorialized the whole event with ‘This would had never happened in Africa’. I tended to agree with him. Solidarity, fellowship, camaraderie, and compassion for all sentient creatures is, in my opinion, good racial profiling of Africans, at least for those which we’ve met since the beginning of our lives on the black continent. Anyone in distress, friend or stranger, tends to be immediately surrounded by empathy and support from concerned bros and sisters. Reminds me of the time Madeleine and I, on our walk to the pool one day, joined a group of bros pushing a car stranded in traffic, to get it started. Needless to point out, we were the only white guys there and Madeleine was the only woman. Once the car started, the driver, a woman, came out and thanked us, adding before getting back into her car that we are all brothers, regardless of skin colour. Best compliment I've ever gotten from an African.

So Patrick’s statement in regards to the lack of compassion from the lady who witnessed his fall may be an overstatement, but it did however bring to the front some of the less desirable characteristics of our western society. To say that this lady’s comportment is typical of our western world would be a gross and false generalization. However, her behavior was still disheartening, surprising, and even dumbfounding...especially to us who are right smack into re-entry mode, making adjustments to reacquaint ourselves with our affluent and comfortable surroundings. Perhaps she was just having a bad day? Perhaps she was scared of Patrick? Perhaps she was scared of being sued? (let’s face it, our Western society’s laws often do not support spontaneous help, for fear of getting sued). Or, perhaps we in the ‘developed’ world have much to learn from the ‘underdeveloped’ world?

PS: Photo at the top is Patrick doing his 'karate kid' thing on Kassa Island, off the coast of Guinea.