Jackuzzi...?
...it's stupid, I know, but bear with me. We're going to will it into existence... (Hint: 🍺𓆏 🍺 𓆏)
You may have thought that this page’s url was a shout-out to the chosen hobby of our [allegedly!] cartel-affiliated amigo. In fact, this was purely coincidental (although it’s clearly evidence of some sort of subconscious hot-tub fixation on my part). Until the book - and the context it’ll provide - is released, I realize that “jackuzzi” just sounds more like I’m trying to organize some sort of swingers club than anything else. (Which I’m not… quite yet.) So, at the risk of giving away the good stuff a too easily, some exposition might be a good idea.
But first, while we’re still on the topic of defining our terms (usernames, book titles, and the like), here are some earlier posts for anyone who wants to brush up on the canon (we do quizzes three times a week, so make sure you hit the books):
This one isn’t quite as organic as “preocupado,” which I know would have been more exciting; it’s pretty un-cool and self-serving to quote yourself - if I had a specific name I wanted to use for this blog, I could just… write it into the book. Scummy. (…On the other hand, who would know? Not you!)
Oh well; onwards. In the book, I talk about many of the challenges facing sub-Saharan Africa and the “third world.” This is kind of unavoidable (as a western outsider writing a “travel book”) given how noticeable these things are to naïve outsiders like me. There are too many elephants in the room: the startling scale of the poverty, the high crime risk, the comically blatant government corruption, and so on.
Naturally, I also talk (as foreigners are wont to do) about what might be done to fix all of this. It’s obligatory, I think, after you return from the third world - especially anywhere in southern Africa - to pontificate about how “we” might be able to help get “them” up on their feet. You’ve lost your mind if you think people are gonna leave that on the table; that stuff is gold dust. I’m no exception.
But then (spoiler alert, I guess) I shift focus a bit, and examine why it is, exactly, that we feel so impelled to go on these crusades. I’d like to think I come at it less from a place of pious “whataboutery” (which, ironically, is a tool most often employed by affluent folks to scold each other), and more from a place of sheer pragmatism: we don’t even have a working understanding of the systems around us - without this, our efforts to “save” other places are futile - or even destructive. As a hegemonic power, it’s vital we have a grasp on our surroundings. This might require giving a second look to some things we take for granted. What if, just maybe, it’s our material comforts themselves - or even our supposed “virtues” - that might be worth a second look? No, no. That can’t be. It’s the… uhhh… immigrants who are wrong.
These questions are something I really try to drill down on, as I think it’s one of our defining questions. Whether we can confront some of these issues, let alone solve them, remains to be seen.
Oof. Heavy. Let’s end on a cheerier note…
… anyway, I end up comparing our situation to that experiment where the frogs get boiled alive. (For those unaware: it’s said that if you plop frogs into lukewarm water and turn the temperature up slowly enough, they won’t notice and will eventually let themselves be killed.)
Unfortunately, the veracity of this claim is up in the air. Wikipedia says it was tested back in the late 19th/early 20th centuries, but that the tests lacked scientific integrity. (So, if you have access to frogs and the requisite equipment, please do the scientific community a favor and… just kidding. No animal abuse, please. (For now...)
Thankfully for the frogs’ sakes, I don’t think many people have tried to recreate this; I couldn’t find any video evidence, at least. (On the family-friendly websites I checked, that is. I’m reluctant to bring in Liveleak or one of the “spicier” sites, as I don’t want to have to scroll past a dozen pages of beheadings). But I want it to be true, for the sake of my analogy, so I’m going to carry on as if it is. A little trade secret about our operation here: We never let facts get in the way of a good allegory.
The gist of it is that we few, we happy, froggy few, have stumbled upon a “jacuzzi” (that is, our way of life), and it sure is comfy. Paralyzingly, mind-numbingly comfy:
And we are not about to look such a generous gift in the mouth. I go on to discuss some of the mechanisms that combine to lull us into our false-sense of security. There are a whole bunch of other pressures placed on us, too, ranging from economic, to sociocultural, and beyond.
In any case, we (The Comfortable, that is) arrive at/are brought to the conclusion that our most rational course of action is to kick back, crack a beer, and - most importantly - try not to think too hard: “It won’t do you any good to dwell on things you can’t change; it’ll only get you and the folks around you down. And nobody likes a party pooper, compadre.”
But if I’m gonna be boiled, I’d very much like to go out on my terms.
I want it to be in a hot-tub someplace warm…
a place where the beer flows like wine…
where beautiful women instinctively flock like the salmon of Capistrano.
……. time to wrap this one up, I think. Anyway the Jackuzzi is just a shout out to that “ethos.” It isn’t an endorsement of apathy or nihilism or anything, but more just a grudging acknowledgement of our learned uselessness. Which is also why it doesn’t apply solely to folks from the US or UK. Anyone can be a Frog, it’s just a matter of whether you…
*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺ 𓆏 Believe 𓆏 ༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚
Oh, and one last item for the record: I’m sure I “protest too much,” but I really am not trying to weasel into the hot-tub party of our steamy Mexican lothario. We wouldn’t join him even if we were invited - right, guys? Our club is separate, and way more exclusive. And also way cooler and more fun. As you can see above, his gringas are already starting to migrate our direction.
In fact, I actually managed to get my hands on some CCTV footage from his neck of the woods. Doesn’t look like he’s taking it too well…
