A Few Proposals

This is a topic that comes up a lot in Togo for Peace Corps Volunteers. Everywhere I go there is some guy who decides after seeing me that we must get married. Maybe I was sitting next to him in the bush taxi or he saw me in the marché arguing over the price of onions with the vendor. Where ever I am the conversation usually starts the same;

“Bonjour . . .  Madame? Mademoiselle?” I’ve learned to dread hearing these words.

I always tell them I’m not married. Many volunteers claim to have a husband, but of course that has its own issues. Then you have people asking where your husband is or when will he be visiting you? I decided early on to be truthful in my relationship status, which has consequences . . . like the constant proposals.

After confirming that I am without a husband the next part is almost always the same;

“No husband? Then you will be my wife, yes?”

Back in training I asked seasoned volunteers a good response for this. All of them told me, “It depends on the situation. There is no one good response.” Though this answer didn’t satisfy me at the time I have come to learn that it’s mostly true. My response depends greatly on my mood and who’s asking. Is it clear that it’s a joke? Does the person seem to really think I’ll marry them? Do I have to work with this person?  

My first few responses were awkward and I often made a fool of myself trying to backpedal out of the situation as quick as possible. Though my response does vary a little, I find it helpful to have a tried and true generic reply. At first I said that if I was going to marry them then they had to go to the US and speak with my Father in person. It worked at first. It wasn’t mean and it settled the matter since it they obviously weren’t going to the US. Then I had a would-be suitor give this response;

He looked quite serious as he said, “That won’t work. I cannot go to the United States. Alright, we will do this instead. You will be my mistress.”

After that I changed my generic response. So far it’s worked out fabulously. See, no Togolese person can same my name. They butcher it horribly. Jenny-far (is as close as I can phonetically spell my name said the African way). So now when a man asks to marry me I tell him this;

“Alright, I will marry you if you can say my name the American way.” Then I’ll say my name with the correct pronunciation. It’s worked like a charm. So far no one has been able to come close to saying my name correctly . . . even after giving them several chances.