The Deadly Yellow Fever

I wish CWY told me what cities I was going to. I may not know about the geographic division system in Mali, but I certainly know that Quebec has cities. Actually, whatever community I'm going to in Mali, it probably won't be the size of a city. I read somewhere that they like to send participants to small communities.

I looked up Yellow Fever, which, if you remember, is the only required vaccination. Apparently, this is the definition for Mali's most troubling disease:

"Asian fetish is a slang term which usually refers to an interest, attraction or preference for people, culture, or things of Asian origin by those of non-Asian descent.[1][2][3][4] The term Asiaphile is sometimes used to describe the same phenomenon as is yellow fever.[5][6]"

Funny, I would've thought I'd need this vaccination if I were going to Asia...

Nah, it actually is a disease transmitted through mosquito bites which causes fever, nausea and pain, and usually subsides in a few days. There's a small chance of a toxic phase which can cause liver damage and jaundice. Well, at least I think that's the definition they were talking about. I got both those definitions...

I have told surprisingly few people about CWY. I've written about it on this blog (two consistent readers) and I've posted on my Twitter (two consistent readers) but I haven't pulled out the big guns... FB and email. I've told my family, a family friend, and an old coworker. That's it. I don't know why. I feel like I've already had my taste of adventure, that I'm selfish to ask for more, that I'm ditching everyone, and that I'll be asking for more now that the romance of me striking out on my own has passed. But I've got to make the announcement.

I have the worst signature. It's a sloppy, awkward mess of swirls and jags. I developed my signature in elementary school in an art class. My teacher thought it was superb. I used it for awhile and it stuck, and I don't feel like I can really change it at this point. Oh well, at least it'd be really hard to forge!

Remember when I said that I seemed underqualified to be holding these machine operating positions? Well, recently, somebody asked me what I did. I told him, and it turned out he was an engineer. He continued to question me on the specifics, and I had an answer for everything. Eventually, he asked me where I received my education. He seemed confused when I said "Nowhere!"

There are machine operating courses, BTW. You can get degrees in it. It explains why people are so much more into there work here than the people on assembly were. Sometimes you only appreciate something if you have to work to get it.

I find that, a lot of time, guys can get a little TOO into their work around these machines, though. I remember the first time, way back at my first plant, coming back from Katimavik, when I was put on unloading, inspection, and gauging at a machine, I was pushing the gauge into the parts too hard, and it was causing the parts to get damaged. My trainer came over to me, and told me that the parts were like a woman, and that I was hurting her.

Pretty effective training technique. The rest of the day, I felt like people were watching me and criticizing my lovemaking techniques. I also felt like a huge jerk for having damaged the parts, so I was extra-careful from thereon in.

I thought that was a creative way to motivate someone to pay attention to their job, but when I went back to the machine, a guy swung by just to relate with me on the joys of gauging those parts. He said "Nice and tight, right? Like VAGINA!"

Well, it's a factory, so everything's going to be related to sex. And besides, maybe it's just this station, right? Well, at both these last machine shops, it's been the same way. Guys always throwing down double entendres about their machines. Every trainer relates them to women, and it's not done just as a training device. Not only that, but you should see how protective these guys get of their machines, and how much effort they put into treating them right. If a supervisor tells them to pass parts that the worker doesn't feel are optimal, they'll freak out, even though they're not being paid by the part, and their job isn't at risk. I've seen many times guys stand up for the honour of their machine. Guys, go home and spend that much time on your wives.

I don't get it, honestly. If anything, I resent the machines a little. If a supervisor told me to sledge hammer one of them, I'd do it in a heartbeat.

But recently, I got the "like a woman" spiel FROM a woman! Aw, crap. Now even more of my pride is on the line...

I got to do my first bit of sparring in Karate a couple days ago. It was against a blackbelt, so obviously I was slaughtered. He kept analyzing my attack pattern, figuring out my favourite kick, and my favourite combo... I didn't know I had favourites. I was using the roundhouse more than other moves because he was weaving back and forth and I wanted to cover as much area as I could, just to increase my chance of landing any hit at all. And I kept using a light blow to create an opening followed by a more decisive one because that's all I know, basically. If I blocked, I could take two shots from him but get hit on the third, because you block with your arms, but you attack with two arms and a leg. Two blocks vs three blows. You come out losing. I tried dodging, but I kept getting backed in a corner. I tried charging, and I kept getting countered! Oh well, that's how you start. Especially fighting a blackbelt. I got two blows in, in the entire session, but one turned out to be an illegal move, and on the other one, I hit too hard. I only hit that hard because at that point, I didn't actually believe I'd ever land a hit.

But it was good. The guy gave me some sparring gear for free.