In expat-aidland, you save Africa during and week and get absolutely wasted in the weekend. Now, I do like a good party myself. I was going to say “but there are boundaries” (and I know this is Dunglish), which is exactly the point: there aren’t.
Navigating ‘the expat scene’ feels like being back in high school, yet worse. Getting drunk is a way of life (not only during the weekends, by the way), using cocaine is as normal as eating peanuts and sleeping around is the new religion. People behave as if they are in some sort of eternal puberty, and no one condemns it: everybody is part of it and in expat-aidland, there are no rules (except for those liberal values and ideas we impose upon ‘the locals’ through our own development programmes, of course).
This micro-cosmos of mostly white people living it up under dire conditions has of…
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