All you have to do is sign on this line...

(A post from Kristen):

Time: 9:52pm

Book(s): Snow- Orhan Pamuk; Gilead- Marilynne Robinson, Rich Christians in an Age of Hunger- Ron Sider

Music: Iron and Wine- The Shepherd's Dog

Ugly babies: still haven't found one…

State of mind: befuddled, incredulous, bamboozled.



I think I was proposed to today. Kind of. Sort of. Maybe? It's hard to say.



It all began with a man who came into the office yesterday morning (Thursday, May 8th, 2008). Innocent enough- we exchanged greetings for approximately five minutes, as per custom here; he showing off his English skills, I demonstrating that I am trying my hand at Amharic. He then informs me that I am to introduce myself, which I do politely even though I find him rude and overbearing. He then says, "ok. What else?" as he pulls out a notepad and begins writing something. Since Kristen Straw is the only name I have, I'm at a loss as to how to respond. He commences to pummel me with questions that are becoming increasing personal (what are you doing here, where do you live, who do you live with…), which I find awkward considering I don't even know his name and he's taking notes. As it turns out, he has just returned to Ethiopia from Dallas where he is getting his masters in radiation technology or something. Imagine his delight when he discovered I was born in Dallas. He claims to be doing "research" in the area for free. I ask him what he is researching and his answers get vague. He moans about having to use public transportation and how much he misses his car in Dallas. I have no sympathy.



Next day, 10:45am: He comes storming into the office insisting that I come have a soda and lunch with him as he is leaving for Addis in the afternoon. I tell him that I'm working, it's not lunchtime, I'm not hungry, but it was great to meet him… yet somehow I end up in a sketchy car that he has miraculously acquired. To this day I'm not sure how that happened. At the café he directs me to a table where a man is waiting and orders me food and a soda that I don't want. He then pulls out a piece of paper and informs me that all I have to do is "sign on this line" saying that I agree to marry this man. Then he can go to America. I stare blankly, thinking I cannot recall a half hour in my life that has been as odd as the last one has been. My intended looks almost as confused as I'm sure looked. Dude continuously reassures me that there are no strings attached, he himself has done this many times, he has a wife in Dallas whom he has divorced but will remarry once he helps others get to America, and all I have to do is get a divorce later. As he is sure that I will be returning home soon, he says this will not be a problem. Here I find my voice and say that I will not be returning for two years and that I cannot sign the paper. He says very convincingly, "Yes- you can. Here's a pen. And we'll be paying you of course." A fleeting image of me marrying and then promptly divorcing people for money that would be used to build shelters for street kids around the world (current plan for the future) crossed my mind. I almost asked how much he was offering. Then I realize that this has to be illegal. I firmly repeat that I cannot partake in his scheme. He tells me he can help me get home, that he can get me a car, a house with an oven… his promises get very extravagant and I'm not sure what he's talking about anymore. I remain silent. He then begins telling his buddies who have accumulated that I'm a medical researcher and am getting my masters in health care. I stand up, tell him that I study politics and history and that I have no idea what he is talking about, and walk away. He follows, offended that I didn't eat lunch, yet gives me his phone number and strict instructions to call him when I'm in Addis next week. I'm not going to Addis next week and never told him I was. Again… not sure what he was talking about.



Moral of the story: don't get into cars with pompous, pretentious people who give you the creeps. Alternatively: if you want to get rich quick, marry people who want you for your nationality.