Election Fervor

I just returned from the internet café here in Dapaong, where I aimlessly surfed the tumultuous waves of world news. For one reason or another, I have neglected to keep up to date on anything going on our planet. Of course, the biggies are conveyed to me by friends and family, (Yes, I know who won the Super Bowl. Hats off to the Pats!) In village however, no electricity renders television and anything with a www in front of it impotent.
Radio is the one forum to disseminate information. Popular programs include local Moba music, intoxicating the locals into a loosy-goosy, hip-gyrating groove not so uncharacteristic of yours truly after a couple of spirits. Void of any preordained step, the dance is a pure artistic groove, a truly liberating form of expression. But that’s another blog in itself…
Another popular program consists of a talk show program, with a talented host who can speak any local language the caller speaks. However, the same song is looped in the background throughout the whole program. The song? Celine Dion’s “My Heart Will Go On.” During our first weeks in village, the program would eerily begin as we sat down to dinner each night. Thus, in a bizarre ménage of elements, while listening to our Togolese Fireside Chats, we were forced to recollect the wicked beauty of those two lovebirds aboard the Titanic. But again, the lag in American pop culture here is another blog in itself [see “Oh Yovo”].
One particular issue however has caused great fervor not just in me but in our village as well. That paramount issue is the campaign trail of the United States of America. Word of a “black” candidate is blustering through the dry lands of our Savannes region. I suspect the winds are blowing throughout this whole, vast continent. Obama’s building momentum, the locals say. I was informed that Obama had taken my collegiate state of residence, Nebraska, big at the market one day. The gentleman’s excitement and his chaotic, flailing arms were not so uncharacteristic of a slightly overweight, middle-aged woman running down the aisle to be the next contestant on the Price Is Right. Another pure artistic groove.
My endorsement for Obama came before my arrival in Togo. The environment here has only reinforced my support for the Illinois Senator. I have never doubted Obama’s integrity nor his capacity to lead. His cinnamon hue is simply the icing on the cake. Or maybe better said, the caramel syrup atop the sundae…
Who does America need to elect come this first Tuesday after the first Monday in November? Someone with the faculty to energize and reinvigorate America’s sense of democracy. Someone with the force to get our youth on their feet to become a legitimate segment of the population that Washington needs to consider. Someone with the tools to rebuild America’s citadel of prestige abroad.
It is difficult, naïve even, to say come November, vote red or blue, things will largely be the same. Our current President has changed our country’s direction. This was not a preordained path we were destined to take. It was the decision of our leaders. And people don’t much like us right now.
Coincidentally though, Africa’s perception of America exceeds all other parts of the world. For one, we don’t boast a colonizing legacy that Europe had. Two, we largely are absent in African affairs. Our interests lie elsewhere, [still another blog entry]. Third, we’re America, silly! So what if folks are known to dress in bell-bottom jeans and a forest green leisure jacket? (70’s disco culture) So what if people imitate Chuck Norris’ roundhouse kicks? (eighties bad-movie culture) So what if people hum “My Heart Will Go On” throughout the day? (90’s boat culture) Our cultural influence dominates like Kareem in the paint.
At base though, people deep down want to like us. It’s a dirty secret foreigners never tell us. And to bring this rant full circle, when Obama came into the picture, the world started rooting for him as well. Foreigners want to like the United States with Obama in ‘08. Perhaps his complexion, similar to two-thirds of the world, is merely symbolic. But for a man who sprinkles his campaign with populist spices, it makes for a tasty dessert.
My backing for Obama differs from the Togolese, no doubt. All the same, I’m riding the Obama-llama. I’m with the locals on this one. It’s miraculous, the more I think of it. A small village in the bush out in Northern Togo is hyped for Obama. Miraculous.
Perhaps the first Tuesday after the first Monday in November, I’ll throw an Election Party. I’ll bring the chip dip. The Togolese can bring the fufu.