And such was the prophetic wisdom of Abdoulaye Diawara, an octolingual cab driver that drove Dallas and Martin and I back from Spanish Harlem on Friday night back to my apt. I was wearing a bootleg replica jersey of Khalilou Fadiga, No. 10.
“What is that, Diouf?” he said, referring to the most well-known Senegalese soccer star.
“No, Fadiga,” I replied, leaning into the window of the cab.
I smiled.
“Na nga def?” I asked, switching to Wolof.
His eyes widened as we pulled away from Chuchifritos, an amazing Puerto Rican hole-in-the-wall in Spanish Harlem, as recommended by Jim Leff of Chowhound fame in The Eclectic Gourmet Guide to New York City. I had pretty darn amazing half of a roast chicken and fries for $5. And tamarindo for $1. Leff says that everything at this place is good, and I believe it. It’s open on weekends from 9 am until 6 am. Genius.
We got to talking and chatting away in a mixture of Wolof and French (when my Wolof failed me) and by the time we were well into Harlem, Diawara had told me that he was a native of Matam, an ethnic SoninkŽ, who speaks Bambara, Wolof, Pulaar, SoninkŽ, French, English, and two Congolese languages fluently and a bit of Arabic. He was impressed that I knew French and a bit of Wolof, and as seems to happen whenever I get into extended conversations with West Africans he offered his unsolicited opinion about Americans, or the world, or both.
In this case, he told me that I was ok because I’d been to Senegal, Europe, and Australia. But then he added:
“If you speak three languages, you’re trilingual. If you speak two languages, you’re bilingual. If you speak one language — you’re American.”
And with that our laughter rattled the front of the cab, heading westward down 125th St.
When Dallas and Martin got out of the cab with me at 120th St., they wondered what sort of weird antennae that I’d acquired in Africa that made me instantly know that he was Senegalese, and to switch to Wolof.
“Oh that’s easy. The jersey,” I said. “If he notices the jersey, chances are that he’s Senegalese. If he’s Senegalese, chances are he speaks Wolof.”
Such began the weekend.
The day before Martin had come down from Hartford to check out NYU and to attend on Friday afternoon a taping of Washington Week on PBS that was being filmed at NYU.
Saturday, the three of us (minus Sina, who had to deal with a lab emergency) plus Heidi headed out to a Mets game where the Dodgers came from behind to win 4-2 over the Mets. I was teased a little for sporting my Los Angeles jersey and Dodgers cap, but hey — you gotta support your team. Always.
As Martin remarked as we were leaving, the Mets fans seem to enjoy booing their own team just as much as they do booing the other team.
Saturday, Martin and Heidi headed back up to CT and Dallas and I headed town to the Village where we got moules from the same awesome place I went to a few weeks ago. Loads of Frenchies there when we were there. Was amazing as usual. And randomly, as we were walking through the Village after dinner, I ran into Emma Schwartz of Daily Cal fame who was visiting her sister, an NYU undergrad. Random.
After we got home from dinner, I got an email from my grandmother telling me that Bill Clinton would be appearing at Riverside Church at their 10:45 am service — and that I should go, particularly because the church is three blocks from my apartment.
Dallas and I headed to bed at 1 am, and were roused again at 6 am, with him getting on the road for Cincinnati and me getting my Sunday best on (shirt and tie — and shoes!), and prepping myself for my potential meeting with Pres. Clinton. I arrived at the church at 6:20 am, and was the first member of the media (well anyone, for that matter) there. I was afraid that it would be packed if Clinton was going to be there, but it didn’t seem like it had been very well publicized, perhaps intentionally.
By 6:30 am, the church opened, and a custodian let me inside instead of sitting out on the steps. By 6:45 am, the two guys from CSPAN showed up (watch their video of his speech here).
I watched as the hours went by, more and more video cameras showed up and eventually photogs and reporters, including people from CNN, AP, ABC, FOX, NY Post, and even some other Columbia J-schoolers.
Overall the speech was great (full transcript here). He has such a great folksy, simple, but powerful tone and demeanor that allowed him to be a truly great president. I think that any member of the religious right should read the speech.
[On that note, this sorta freaks me out:
Soon after Hagel spoke, the acting state Republican chair–an African-American man in a white cowboy hat named Leon Mosley–urged his delegates, “Let’s remember what’s paramount in our life: God … This is the GOP: God’s Official Party.” At that, the room burst into sustained applause. Behold, the Republican base.]
Unfortunately I didn’t get the chance to get close to Bill and ask some of the questions that Aaron suggested like:
And if you want to have his secret service kill you on the spot:
Is Hillary a lesbian?
Can I get your daughter’s number?
Today was spent working on a story for Wired News. Should be up on Wired.com at 2 am PDT tomorrow. And Rachel will have a story too, so watch out for that.
Tomorrow and Wednesday I’ll be in Crown Heights all day working the beat.
Thursday I’m back in CA. Call/email if you want to get Top Dog or something.
It’s way too hot for 11:30 at night.
