Crimson and Clover,
This one is gonna be shorter because I'm busy. This past weekend introduced me to some of the finer spectacles that anonymous cities in Africa have to offer. After a rousing round of golf Thursday afternoon (I still cannot get over how cheap it is-like $10 with a caddy who has to be a five handicap to qualify, its like a free lesson every time), I was watching some good old American basketball on TV when the group behind me including the Ugandan high commissioner, the Tanzanian ambassador and one of the richest guys in the country-a Korean named Mr. Kim (who looks, talks and probably is a Bond villain) came in. Turns out the Tanzanian ambassador went to Baylor who was playing on a ten-hour delay and he and I watched and cheered the end of the game. This culminated in some fine beers and his invitation to join him on the 'morrow for a Texas-style barbecue.
I went to his house the following evening and got an abrupt introduction to his version of "Texas barbecue." Thirty people in suits and ties with linen tablecloths and servants waiting on me at the door. I wonder if this is how my fraternity chapter at Baylor had dinner together? Although in fairness, there were ribs, imported barbecue sauce and he and I drank Bud Heavy, which he has to import (who imports Budweiser?!). A wonderful social event, even though people did regard me in my jeans like you would a homeless streaker showing up to a black-tie Presidential ball.
Saturday night, my friendly neighbor, Assa, (see last weeks post) took me out to American Pirates Casino: a preeminent gambling hall and social hotspot. It was pretty great. Built by a South African guy, who was utterly hammered, he targeted successfully the large Asian population here, "These [Polite word for people of Oriental heritage] love it. It's a cash business, in a cash economy where ain't no one gonna pay taxes." Then he classily knocked over a waitress carrying a stack of plates and blamed her. Guy is an innovator. Best part about the casino, besides winning a bunch of money and watching Assa drink FIVE red bulls and dance like a lunatic with a pack of prostitutes, was that if you gambled with more than the US-value $50, you got a valet assigned to you to fetch you drinks and follow you around. Worst part: 200 Asians chain-smoking, muttering angry things and side-betting on your bets; they would stand over me playing Blackjack and scream and throw money down whenever I took a card or passed.
Finally, Sunday there was a protest-which turned into a bit of a riot downtown over fuel shortages and prices. I was up early, attempting to late-night Skype a gaggle of Richmonders, but I couldn't find internet anywhere. I called my friend who finally told me the government had shut down the internet and power temporarily while they broke up the protest. Lo and behold, fifty protesters came around the corner as I was finishing the conversation screaming and being chased by police in riot gear. Ten minutes later, a church group of 200 came by singing and holding hands with some of the protesters and police joining in. It gets weird sometimes.
Scoobity doo wop,
Foxy
PS: I taught my Chinese neighbor a fun US phrase (based on another email request, keep em comin' steven.er.fox@gmail.com)
"There's two ways to milk this goat, Butch Cassidy"
She uses it in lieu of phrases like "Are you sure?"-I told her Jack says it in one of the later episodes of Lost.
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