Our free lunches are truly a blessing but as with most things they come with a price. Lunch at the hospital restaurant often feels like an interrogation. Some days I am happily ignored, but most days I am surrounded by people asking me questions and staring at me.
This past Monday I went to lunch and we had to wait quite a while for the food. I usually start out sitting alone, but usually people come join me. While we sat at a table the women around me questioned me eagerly.
“Where do you live?”
“When did you come here?”
“Why don’t you live at the hospital?”
“How do you pay for your house?”
“Do you have kids?” “Why not?”
“Why don’t you get pregnant?”
“Is a baby just not coming?”
“You should have a baby!”
“Why don’t you braid your hair?”
“You should braid your hair.”
“Where did you meet your husband?”
“Has he been to America?”
“How long will you work at the hospital?”
“Where are you going after this?”
“When are you going back to America?”
“Are you from North America or South America?”
“Does your husband speak English?”
“How long have you been in Congo?”
“Where were you before you came here?”
And all this for one measly lunch. It just wasn’t worth it today. I vowed not to eat at the restaurant again the rest of the week, and Orcxance coached me on how to respond to the endless questioning.
It is different being married, because everything I say reflects on my husband and us as a couple, so the challenge of communicating and responding to people is much more difficult than I found it to be as a single person.
Some of our conversations provide opportunities for good discussions, and sometimes for some assumptions and stereotypes to be corrected. But it is exhausting.
Next time I might just bring a tupperware and get my food to go.
1 comment:
Well, at least you don't have people asking to share your husband and recommending you get circumcised...
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