When people ask me about my home country, I am always deliberately positive. I take great delight in pointing out that every country has its problems, and I take even more delight in dividing “What We’ve Heard” stories by about eleventy-seven and then putting them into context. Nothing takes the wind out of sails as quickly as facts, presented clearly, with minimum hype or hysteria.
I get asked all the time about “How Things Really Are” in my country. I get asked “Is It Safe?”, “Are The People Starving?”, “How Do You Even Live There?” etc. It doesn’t stop there. I also get told in no uncertain terms what they think about How Things Really Are. I get told that It’s Not Safe and that I Am Crazy Staying Here. And then I get the small sigh, the despondent shake of the head, the “It’s such a shame. So sad. Such a waste. I feel sorry for you all.” Most of those people pontificate safely from well beyond the borders of my country. Vomit icon to the power of eleventy-seven.
There’s one group of people that doesn’t do this – American tourists. (I know – I’m generalising. I apologise in advance for any offense I may cause, but please take it in the spirit in which it is intended.)
American tourists on the whole (bless them) are spectacularly disinterested in the politics, history or current affairs of any country other than their own. They are so refreshing, because they are simply here to Go On Safari, See The Big Five, Experience One of the Great Natural Wonders Of The Modern World. They are not interested in Bond Dollars, or Potholes, or the Free-Falling Economy. I’m not sure they even know which country they are actually in, because so many of them come to the Falls as part of a tour to South Africa, or Botswana, or Namibia. What’s a border or two when you’re in Africa – it’s all basically the same place, right?
I love American tourists. They are so enthusiastic, stopping the bus to admire each monkey, baboon and warthog they chance upon. (They can never tell the difference between a monkey and a ba-boon, and anything they cannot identify is An Annelope.) They exclaim loudly over every little bird, bug or beetle they see, and attribute human emotions and actions to everything. “See that ele over there, Randy? Isn’t he just the cutest? Oh my goodness, Randy, he’s exposing himself, the naughty little guy. That’s quite a dongle to dangle, I guess. Hahaha – naughty little guy.”
They love everyone and talk (loudly) to everyone. They call everyone by their first name, even when they can’t pronounce it. “Sikhu-what? Can I just call you Sikhu? It sure is great to meet ya, Sikhu.” And they simply assume that everyone speaks American.
Without a trace of guile or sarcasm, they ask questions like, “Does that come in pink?” as the poor curio vendor takes great pains to explain (in broken English) that elephants generally have black tail hairs, which is why the ele hair bangles most often come only in black, or perhaps a very dark brown.
American tourists listen intently and then they offer well-meaning advice on the fiscal advantages of having a range to choose from, and suggest the use of vegetable dyes and perhaps a touch of hemp seed or seaweed or oil of gibbetyflip, and recommend the latest Ted Talk they watched which was all about successful cottage-industries-gone-global in rural India.
The vendor nods enthusiastically, agrees to everything that is said, and convinces the delightful American tourist to buy a black one anyway. He’ll have pink ones next time, he adds, helpfully. The American tourist hands over real American Dollars, gives him a business card, writes down a link to the Ted Talk in question, and walks away with satisfaction evident across his face. He’s happy, the vendor is happy, the world is a better place.
American tourists are wonderful.
If you don’t believe me, try being one for a day. Take everything you see at absolute face value. Enjoy the moment in this place we call home – that bird, this bug, that crazy ele with his dongle dangling out. And when I say enjoy, I mean enter into it with every fibre of your being. Be enthusiastic. Laugh. Be present in the moment. Take photos. Greet everyone by name, even if you have to make one up. Shake hands with great gusto. Repeat what people say for the benefit of others who may not have heard the first time. “Did you hear that, Randy? She’s a Blogger. And she’s 4th generation Zimbabwean, isn’t that fantastic?”
And it really is fantastic! I love American tourists.
Thank you for coming to my country and not asking How Things Really Are. Thank you for not telling me How They Really Are. Thank you for just being here, and for bringing your American Dollars and your effervescent enthusiasm for everything you see. Please come back, and bring more like you. We need more like you, to help change The Way Things Really Are. And I say that unreservedly, without a trace of sarcasm, or guile.
The vendor and I are going to start a range of Ele Hair Bangles in your honour. With a choice of all the colours we can possibly find. (Mostly black. And dark brown.) We’re going to call it Siyabonga.
(You won’t know what it means, but we do.)
Siyabonga, Randy. It sure was great to meet ya!