Adventures with Celestine

Celestine is what you might politely describe as a “character.”  A fearless, opinionated and often brusque woman, she is the type to dictate the route to a cab driver.  These characteristics are what have enabled her to, nearly singlehandedly, found and run CEFASE.

They have also made her a bit of a wild card: inadvertently severe, often trying and unintentionally hilarious.

I already shared with you her valor in the face of mouse adversity; plucking it from my sheets and squishing it with her flip-flop clad foot (something I still have not recovered from).  But in this post, I endeavor to give you a better picture of my life with Celestine.

As referenced, Celestine is prone to haphazard outbursts of song.  She has a deep, slightly gruff voice that tonelessly infiltrates every room in the house – and likely the adjoining ones given the thinness of the walls.  Many times I have stumbled upon her, eyes closed, in the middle of an impromptu African boogie.  My favorite variation was to a song called Let’s Knock Out Malaria, really finding her groove at the line “sleep with your malaria net, every night, every every single niiiiight”.

Recently Celestine barged into my room and proudly announced that a donor emailed about making a gift.  She gave me a high five (another pastime of hers) and pulled me into the living room to take a look.  It was a one line, unsigned email from a corporate address.  Skeptical of its validity, I encouraged her to google the company name.  Their landing page named them as the premier provider of amateur erotica.  Apparently I underestimated the language barrier because Celestine forged ahead; verifying she was over 18 and entering the site.  For once in the history of African internet, the page actually loaded quickly – before I could figure out the culturally appropriate way to say “this is porn.”  So there we sat…a web page of bouncing boobs in front of us.  Celestine was stunned, appalled and crestfallen.  I was dying inside.

Celestine believes very deeply in her religion: a form of born-again Anglicism if I understand it correctly.  As such, she does not drink alcohol because it “blurs her relationship with the Lord.”  However, there appears to be exceptions to this rule.  When in the village, I found her weeding the cassava field, singing and dancing with a half empty jug of palm wine beside her – at 10am.  She did not share.  This deep-rooted holy connection has also made her clairvoyant.  To date, these premonitions have only come to light after they have proven true…but she is adamant and vocal about her far-reaching powers.

Another of my favorite Celestine moments occurred just the other day.  I have a jump rope that I exercise with in my room.  At breakfast one morning Celestine asked me about the unusual sounds she had heard the day before.  After much back and forth to explain the concept of jumping rope for exercise, she demanded I get it and clear out the living room furniture so she could try.  It made for an amusing show while I crammed down my two giant oil-soaked crepes.  Turns out that, although spastic in her approach, she is better at it than me!  But the best was yet to come.  Celestine, dripping in sweat, whipped out a massage book and a floor mat from some previously unknown cranny and proceeded to demand that I give her a full massage; step by step as the book outlines it.  Since she was telling not asking, I dutifully proceeded to rub her down to the soundtrack of “Unbreak my Heart” which was blaring from the neighbor’s radio.  Such is Celestine…

She takes a bit of getting used to.  She will bellow out your name and you are expected to untangle yourself from the mosquito net and appear immediately; often for simple things like help tying her headscarf or choosing her outfit.  She constantly critiques how much I eat, which is apparently far too little but I am sorry I cannot stomach more than four potatoes in one day. Under the guide of improving my French, she will randomly refuse to speak to me in English -- continually repeating the same question over and over in rapid fire.  However, she never tells me the translation so as far as I am concerned this is just a fun guessing game where I run through my entire stock of French phrases until she seems satisfied.

Celestine certainly is not afraid to speak her mind.  For example, Kate was sick to her stomach before she left and Celestine decided that she was not allowed bread, her preferred food of choice, and instead must eat only fried foods.  Because a belly full of grease is exactly what you want when you are nauseous.  Her righteousness extends to even the little things: she has expressed open disappointment in my failure to adequately wash my shoes before venturing to the internet café, despite the fact that it was pouring outside and we were about to walk through a giant mud hole anyway.

All of this can be challenging, particularly because you are forced to rely on her for so much.  But I choose to believe that it is done out of love and likely the result of having escorted countless clueless foreigners through this strange and challenging country.  Furthermore, I suspect nuances of the English language are lost on her, making some of what she considers innocent requests ring spiteful on our ears.  For example, when meals are ready Celestine will roar “Tracey!  Please, can you eat?”  It comes across exasperated, but what she really means is “Dinner is ready.”

Personally, I am the type to find humor in the obnoxious and view Celestine as more of an amusing ally then a frustrating overlord.  However, I suspect Kate felt very differently and not without just cause.  The upside is that Celestine expects you to be as forthcoming as she is – something I commonly struggle with but have been forced to face during my weeks here. 

Even with all that, Celestine is quick to laugh and can certainly be a good time.  She may not have the genial disposition of Susan and Augustine, but she has welcomed me into her life with open arms.  And for now, we are stuck together.  With everything else you deal with in Africa, there is not much left to do but laugh and dance right along with her.