Put a group of aid workers in the same room and I guarantee at some point the conversation will run along the lines of: ‘when I was in DRC blah blah blah’ ‘when I was in Goma blaaahhhh’ ‘well when I was in Darfur blah!’ ‘I remember when I was in Sri Lanka and…’ Blah.
Sharing diverse experiences is of course a good thing, especially when it involves experiences of great danger and bravery, killer insects and tropical diseases, the best bars and drunken debauchery, and how fucked up such and such a thing/place is.
Sharing serious experiences is of course a good thing, especially when comparing the education policies in Haiti with those in Somalia. And when the ‘when I was in’ story is used to put oneself above one’s national counterparts who haven’t had the privilege of travelling to such exotic places.
Oh, so I know I exaggerate a little and it’s perfectly harmless and just part of normal conversation and we all do it, but ye gods it can get tedious.
Did I ever tell you about the time when I was working in Khartoum…?
[When I was in Afghanistan, I wrote this fantastic blog that was really interesting and that wasn't at all a series of ‘when I was in' stories written in the present tense. Damn.]
February 12, 2009 at 6:05 pm |
fruitfully revealing…gee thanks. wink
February 14, 2009 at 1:23 am |
My Dad was in the merchant navy before I was born, each of his sea stories were repeated so often that they had numbers. Eventually we banned him from any story that began with “When I was in China…”. I feel a little sorry for him now, especially as I keep hearing myself say “When I was in New York…” but I get what you mean.
A similar problem is “I was listening to radio four and…”.
February 15, 2009 at 4:14 am |
Ha, that’s brilliant. I can just hear you Pete, ‘Oh Dad, won’t you tell us story # 37 again? I love the part about the giant squid.’
I’m still waiting for your ‘when I was in New York / Finland stories’. Could you send me the catalogue of them so I can choose which ones to hear?
February 15, 2009 at 7:33 pm |
No, it was more like. “Oh no not number 25 again…”
February 16, 2009 at 1:40 am |
And when you go “home” it’s even worse. “When I was in Afghanistan…” becomes like a trump card that you catch yourself playing on the story-stack when you want your point to be taken more seriously. Ah well, it the minstrel in me that makes me do it. So it’s alright, right?
February 16, 2009 at 8:18 am |
spot on!
February 16, 2009 at 9:10 pm |
Ah, Ha! I totally do that. I’m particularly obnoxious to Afghan diaspora who haven’t returned…Actually, people in Afg don’t think like that at all…
Will try to take it down a notch in the future…Good reminder, thank you.