Bringing West Africa to South Sudan

"No! You don't eat it. You just chew it."

Three of our national staff had each just taken a piece of kola nut, the hard, pink fruit that I thought was ubiquitous across Africa and cut it with a chunk of bubble gum. Three South Sudanese men, all in their late twenties, examining a chunk of kola like it was some new experimental drug.

"But it makes you drunk?" one of them asked.

"No, no. It gives you energy. Like Red Bull."

"Yes, it gives you energy!" the vendor echoed.

"But what do you do with it?"

"You chew it. But it's very bitter. And it turns your teeth orange."

"No," the vendor corrected me. "You see, it turns your teeth orange if you don't brush."

"Spit it out like gum when you're finished."

"When you're feeling it," the vendor added.

"But you don't eat it?" my colleague asked. All three were looking at me with curiosity.

"No! Guys, how am I more African than you?"

They laughed. "We don't have this one. This comes from Congo!"

"Even me," our Kenyan colleague said, "I have never had this one."

"Never?!" I asked, "But this is everywhere in West Africa!"

And suddenly, all of us were reminded of the continent's sprawling size and rich diversity.

Some of us learned that kola nuts are, in fact, disgusting.

Crossing Cultures

West Africa was my entrance to Africa. I spent nearly three years there before going anywhere else. I see similarities across the continent wherever I go. I see similar art - an 'African' aesthetic that is plied mostly to the tourist trade, wear similar fabric - the 'pagnes' that I first encountered in Niger are seen as 'traditional' throughout the continent (despite their manufacture in Hong Kong or Amsterdam), and hear similar music - the rumba rhythms from Kinshasa and hip hop beats from the likes of Nigerian group P-Square - 

The remix of P-Square's 'Chop My Money,' featuring Akon and May-D, is one of the hottest tracks in Juba at the moment. You hear it everywhere.

Despite that, I decided to ask my South Sudanese colleagues, "Do you know what they're singing about?"

They didn't, and why should they? Nigerian pidgin hasn't permeated the rest of the continent, outside the 'Little Nigeria' neighborhoods that you sometimes come across in South Africa.

Chop is a perfect example. In Nigerian (and Ghanaian) pidgin, chop means to eat. In the case of the above video, 'chop my money' means that the woman all these men are interested in excels at spending their money. 

And they don't care, because "It's your seduction that makes sure we stay in line / sexual corruption cuz I'll kill anyone for your time." There's some additional pidgin - "I know dey lie" vs "you no go believe" playing on the homonym (knowledge vs. negation) as well as a Yoruba verse that slides back into slang "Omo ele I get pepper" (Pretty baby, I'll find money).

Expanding Worlds

Let's put it this way - it is over 4000km as the crow flies from Juba to Lagos. For an American, that's roughly the same as walking New York to Los Angeles. For Europeans, imagine driving from London to Syria. Americans will likely be listening to the same music, wearing similar clothes, and eating similar foods (though I've never had California's famous Jack-in-the-Box burgers nor do I understand all the references on Portlandia). For Europeans, the differences in culture, food, history, and politics is like night and day.

For Africans, it's somewhere in the middle, I think. Similar experiences with colonialism, arbitrary borders imposed at independence, but with a few dominant cities churning out pop culture for the rest of the continent - Lagos and Nairobi being the most obvious Anglophone megacities while Abidjan, Dakar, and Kinshasa take care of the Francophone nations.

I've been lucky enough, over the past several years, to travel and explore these various worlds, and now I'm finding myself in the position of a bridge between various cultures. 

I don't by any means think I know even one percent of these various cultures I've visited, but I've picked up a little along the way. Like my wallet, I'm holding cultural currencies with bills from over twenty African nations. On my last assessment, I was equally comfortable speaking Zarma with the Nigerien security professional accompanying the UNICEF mission as I was identifying the Zimbabwean on the same mission as Shona, reminiscing about the beauty of Chimanimani, and laughing at the tragic absurdity of the hyperinflation that collapsed his country's economy.

Jack of All Trades, Master of None

Of course, there are trade-offs. As I learn more and more about the various places I've called home, I've become further disengaged from many of the cultural touchstones of people from my own world. I don't know about the latest Top 40 hit unless it crosses oceans to get played on Turkish radio. I haven't tried the newest pop-up gin bar, nor have I heard about whatever new app is allowing overburdened twenty-something professionals to find love without having to speak to strangers. 

It's alienating, but you know what? I don't think I'd have it any other way.