Should I feel African today? Probably not, since I'm about as white bread as they come, with a little cornbread thrown in. I'm hardly African. I've never been to Africa, and I don't know what Africa feels like.
I do like to quote Matthew Broderick when he gets off the bus in Buloxi Blues, and says, "This is Africa hot." But really, I have no idea what I'm talking about.
It's just that I'm sitting at my desk with a necklace I made from trader beads Husband brought back from a trip to Nigeria this past winter. They're fetching. And I have a thank-you note that I treasure from a minister in Nigeria because I designed the cover of a book he wrote about religion in Africa. And I just finished knitting a hat for babies in a hospital for women and children in Mali.
It's not the time for knitting, but I'm stuck on designing a cover for a book about marriage that will be sold in Nigeria and Liberia, and I have no idea what imagery to focus on. If this were for white-breads in America, I'd use the stereotypical mass-market stuff--lace, rings, cake, blah blah blah. But I don't know how Nigerians celebrate weddings. What if they don't wear lace? What if they don't eat cake? What if roses mean something sinister to them and not something romantic? In China, white doesn't symbolize purity--it's the color of death. And brides wear red. So what do brides wear in Africa, and what does white symbolize?
While I'm waiting to hear the answers to these questions from the publisher, knitting a hat for a baby in Mali seems to be a suitable past time. As does drinking another cup of coffee. As does rambling about feeling African. As does looking for a reasonably authentic recipe for couscous at foodnetwork.com. As does just about anything else but getting any work done at all.
So, today, I am African. Or maybe today, I'm just lazy and directionless and looking for distraction.
I do like to quote Matthew Broderick when he gets off the bus in Buloxi Blues, and says, "This is Africa hot." But really, I have no idea what I'm talking about.
It's just that I'm sitting at my desk with a necklace I made from trader beads Husband brought back from a trip to Nigeria this past winter. They're fetching. And I have a thank-you note that I treasure from a minister in Nigeria because I designed the cover of a book he wrote about religion in Africa. And I just finished knitting a hat for babies in a hospital for women and children in Mali.
It's not the time for knitting, but I'm stuck on designing a cover for a book about marriage that will be sold in Nigeria and Liberia, and I have no idea what imagery to focus on. If this were for white-breads in America, I'd use the stereotypical mass-market stuff--lace, rings, cake, blah blah blah. But I don't know how Nigerians celebrate weddings. What if they don't wear lace? What if they don't eat cake? What if roses mean something sinister to them and not something romantic? In China, white doesn't symbolize purity--it's the color of death. And brides wear red. So what do brides wear in Africa, and what does white symbolize?
While I'm waiting to hear the answers to these questions from the publisher, knitting a hat for a baby in Mali seems to be a suitable past time. As does drinking another cup of coffee. As does rambling about feeling African. As does looking for a reasonably authentic recipe for couscous at foodnetwork.com. As does just about anything else but getting any work done at all.
So, today, I am African. Or maybe today, I'm just lazy and directionless and looking for distraction.
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Pianist friend