Sorry, no imbeciles allowed
One of the perks of working in project finance, if you're into that sort of thing, is the chance to travel to countries no reasonable person would ever want to visit. The trips usually involve glad-handing some corrupt ministers, driving into the desert/jungle/swamp to see the project site or attending a ground-breaking ceremony performed by the king/dictator/swami. It's all fine and good if you don't mind losing a few pounds from dysentery or risk being used as a human shield when rebels seize the Marriott, but having grown up in Louisiana, I've already had more than my fair share of mosquito swarms, 100 degree weather and infrequently-washed locals.
Not long ago, one of my project finance colleagues was asked if he wouldn't mind doing a secondment with one of our clients. Secondments are usually great opportunities to work closely with clients, see how the other half lives and get extra pay, so most people jump at the chance. The secondment in question, however, was in Botswana. To be fair, I've never been to Botswana, couldn't locate it on a map and wouldn't be able to tell you a thing about it, but if my boss asked me to spend six months there my first question would be what I had done to piss him off so much.
My instincts were confirmed when my colleague showed me the medical report he had to submit to get into the country. The form needs to be completed by a medical professional, and in addition to screening for well-known diseases like leprosy, syphilis and tuberculosis, it asks whether the applicant is suffering from such colorful and seemingly imaginary ailments as favus, framboesia, scabies, trachoma or yaws. Although I'd never even heard of most of the aforementioned maladies before reading the form, it's safe to assume that they're not the sort of thing one would brag about on a first date.
While I can understand the interest in banning infectious individuals from the country, Botswana is also somewhat elitist in the type of person who can get in. Chronic alcoholics are prohibited, as are epileptics or those who have previously been treated for insanity. Persons who suffer from "constitutional psychopathic inferiority" have one more thing to feel bad about, while "idiots", "imbeciles" and "feeble-minded persons" are stuck standing at the border, furrowing their brows in confusion as to why the nice men with the shiny machetes won't let them past the gate.
Assuming he can get past the medical screening process, I'm sure that my colleague will have a good time. He'll likely get out of the office every day by 6:00, stay in a spacious villa provided by the client and witness firsthand things that most of us only get to read about in National Geographic. Be that as it may, I don't envy him in the slightest. Call me old-fashioned or narrow-minded, but I'd rather be stuck here in Paris, milling about with the home-grown and visiting imbeciles, alcoholics and syphilitic idiots.
Not long ago, one of my project finance colleagues was asked if he wouldn't mind doing a secondment with one of our clients. Secondments are usually great opportunities to work closely with clients, see how the other half lives and get extra pay, so most people jump at the chance. The secondment in question, however, was in Botswana. To be fair, I've never been to Botswana, couldn't locate it on a map and wouldn't be able to tell you a thing about it, but if my boss asked me to spend six months there my first question would be what I had done to piss him off so much.
My instincts were confirmed when my colleague showed me the medical report he had to submit to get into the country. The form needs to be completed by a medical professional, and in addition to screening for well-known diseases like leprosy, syphilis and tuberculosis, it asks whether the applicant is suffering from such colorful and seemingly imaginary ailments as favus, framboesia, scabies, trachoma or yaws. Although I'd never even heard of most of the aforementioned maladies before reading the form, it's safe to assume that they're not the sort of thing one would brag about on a first date.
While I can understand the interest in banning infectious individuals from the country, Botswana is also somewhat elitist in the type of person who can get in. Chronic alcoholics are prohibited, as are epileptics or those who have previously been treated for insanity. Persons who suffer from "constitutional psychopathic inferiority" have one more thing to feel bad about, while "idiots", "imbeciles" and "feeble-minded persons" are stuck standing at the border, furrowing their brows in confusion as to why the nice men with the shiny machetes won't let them past the gate.
Assuming he can get past the medical screening process, I'm sure that my colleague will have a good time. He'll likely get out of the office every day by 6:00, stay in a spacious villa provided by the client and witness firsthand things that most of us only get to read about in National Geographic. Be that as it may, I don't envy him in the slightest. Call me old-fashioned or narrow-minded, but I'd rather be stuck here in Paris, milling about with the home-grown and visiting imbeciles, alcoholics and syphilitic idiots.
No comments:
Post a Comment