T-Shirts

I am aware there should be an order to things. That it would probably be best if first things came first... for instance if I were to write about 'my life', the hearty substantive facts, instead of throwing out extraneous details and anecdotes... but honestly, throughout the last year-plus I feel like I've largely lost my perspective on 'order'. For me, part of what this series of somewhat random experiences (I'm going to live in Chad, who? Mozambique, where?) has done is shown me that life (at least mine) truly is just a compilation of random, often hilarious, sometimes tragic, sometimes bizarre, extraneous details and anecdotes.

Second-hand American clothes in Africa. Now here's a great detail, a cultural 'exchange' turned hilarious, tragic, and bizarre all at once. Like back when I was in Cameroon, about six months ago during 'the evacuation'... we stepped off the plane in Yaounde to a group of men pushing carts and hustling to carry our bags for us. These were not airport employees, but guys off (and possibly living in) the street. Usually I try to ignore the hustlers and harassers as much as possible and hope they'll take the hint, but one guy had immediately captivated my attention. The guy who was running around with a dirty 'Magic Hat Brewery' t-shirt on. Magic Hat, for those who don't know, is a microbrewery in Burlington, Vermont (try the 'Humble Patience' dark ale)... which for various reasons kind of seems like the best symbolic representation of the most recently passed stage of my life. So anyway, to see this homeless man in the Yaounde, Cameroon airport wearing this shirt really blew my mind. And the only thing 'to do' was to look at him and point to his shirt and give him a thumbs up with all the heart I had, and the man just smiled and nodded and ran to wrestle a bag from the hands of one of my friends.
Or this morning, the guy who walked into my class at model school with a bright blue t-shirt that said 'The Weiss Family Reunion: 1937-1997' in flowery white writing with stars shooting everywhere.
Or the guy who was working the door on the chapa (taxi-van) that I took to Maputo last weekend. This guy has a gnarly job, the 'cobrador', he's the one who hangs out of these half broken-down vans screaming their destination, running up and down the streets trying to drum up business, collecting money from passengers, trying to arrange the human, animal, and material cargo of their chapa so as to utilize every possible inch of space... It made me laugh that this guy was wearing a tiny red t-shirt (presumably meant for a young girl) that said 'Halden High Cheer Camp', with the picture of one of those cones that cheerleaders yell through.
Or the guy who I saw a week or so ago when I was walking through Boane who was wearing a bright white, button-down St. Louis Cardinals baseball jersey. This guy had no idea they had just pulled off a major World Series upset, trust me, the concept of baseball doesn't even exist here...
Or the woman who lives down the street who wears a tight t-shirt that screams 'THEY'RE REAL AND THEY'RE SPECTACULAR' across the chest in glittery writing. (Seinfeld fans?)
Or the teacher one of the volunteers was telling me about who came to a meeting with his t-shirt nicely ironed and tucked in with the message 'I make little boys cry' inscribed across the front (remember most people here don't know English).
Or the old woman selling dried fish at the market with a shirt that says 'F*** All Liberal Scum'.

Exactly... hilarious, tragic, and bizarre.

So this is what I often find myself reflecting on these days. The circles, coincidences, and hilarities, that keep things so damn interesting.