France is Wack Arnolds.

I attended a cultural event today, "International Festival of Storytelling and the Word, on the theme of Slavery and Liberty." It was commemorating to a large extent the abolition of slavery in the French colonies (May 22, 1848). The performers--speakers, storytellers, musicians--were in large part from Sénégal, but there Niger, US (New Orleans), and Martinique represented as well. Some of the story tellers were truly amazing, including one guy who, after speaking a whole passage in Sénégalise, addressed the audience:

"I know you didn't understand that, but just as I have made the effort to learn your language, you should learn mine. I was here before any of you. I watched as Moses parted the Red Sea. I watched as Mary's son tried to bring peace to humanity. I watched as Harriet Tubman rescued hundreds of slaves in her Underground Railroad. I watched as Martin Luther King spoke words of wisdom. I watched as Bob Marley asked us to "Get up Stand up for your Rights". I was there in the beginning..."

It was beautiful. A Black American storyteller also performed. She told the story of Harriet Tubman. It would have been great, but because it was in English, someone was translating as she was speaking. It wasn't simultaneous translating, though--every time she paused, the guy would take his time to translate. I know how difficult it is to translate, but the guy was all obnoxious about it, sometimes speaking a bit too loud for comfort, and straight-up killing the woman's flow. At one point, he completely got a word wrong, and audience members started muttering and whispering the right word--which told me that a translator might not have even been necessary. When she was done telling the story, she asked if she had more time, and bluntly responded "No."

The moderator came back and announced, "Next up is the director of the whole event, so if you don't clap for him, he'll stop the festival. Give it up for [Mr. White Privilege], singing in Yiddish!" Wait, Yiddish?

Amongst a whole bunch of African and Afro-descendant peoples, here comes this Jewish guy singing about the Holocaust.

What pissed me off even more was the fact that none of his songs were translated. After all the misery he put that poor woman through, he ends up singing in a language that no one in the audience knew.

To top it all off, when Mr. White Privilege was done, the announcer was like, "This man is French.."

Mr. White Privilege: "I'm African."

Announcer: "Why yes, he is African, certainly. Not only because he's lived and worked in Sénégal for years, but also because he's married my sister, and had two beautiful mixed children. The color of our skin does not matter, we are all African, we are all human."

The announcer had the nerve to continue mentioning the whole mixed children thing with other performers: "And up next, Mr. X, who also has produced mixed children of his own..."

A quick look in the audience, three interracial couples, with several mixed raced children to boot.

Why don't we all just friggin' get up and sing Kumbaya? Perhaps in Yiddish?