You know the story about the man at the fork who always lies? We need to look at it from a different light. He means no harm. He is just trying to be polite.
I keep telling myself that I need to live within the culture. Untruths told may not really be lying but a form of politeness. A Cameroonian clock ticks by much more slowly. I spend 2 hours chasing down the latest national data on cholera for a very important meeting. Old data may have drastic consequences on our credibility. I speak with the keeper of the data, telling him that I am in a hurry. I need numbers before a 12:30 meeting. He would not provide the numbers over the phone, so I rush into his office at 12:15. He is not there. He saunters in 5 minutes later and says he cannot find the key to access the data. At 12:45, he finally turns on his computer. That was when I find out what he was trying to do. He checks his email inbox. He did not get an email from one zone to complete his latest data collection. He shows me that the data has not even been collected--at 12:50! And the data is far from processed. If he had only told me over the phone that the data had not been collected...
I move to my boss’ home. It certainly is big enough for the two of us. Yet sharing a home with the boss have its drawbacks. It means functioning in French for a few more hours every day. Yannick moves my things--but not all. None of the food was transferred in the move. After a long work day, I return home to no food. I eat peanuts. So much for looking forward to that big meal after a week of French fries.
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