Et Sinon, Ca Va?

So today I Sinon, Ca va’ed and actually got a good result out of it.

 

For those of you foreign to this popular Guadeloupian activity, Sinon Ca-va-ing is the act of engaging in a short and casual conversation with a friend or acquaintance with whom you (think) you have nothing to say to.

 

The procedure usually goes along the lines of the following:

 

You spy your neighbour from the other side of the street as you make your way home from work. Although the last time you talked was approximately, mmm…twelve hours ago, you know they’ll be coming back for more conversation if they see you. Admittedly, they are wonderful, fabulous, generous, beautiful people, and you would be happy to talk to them all the time…if they would just cut out the Sinon, ca va-ing.

 

So you try and avoid eye contact and speed up your pace, thinking about the discount cookies and imitation nutella that await you for as snack back home on this blisteringly hot afternoon. But just as you squeak open your front gate, thinking you’re home free, you hear that dreaded word…your name.

 

“CAROLINAAAAAHHHHHH, CAROLINAAAAAAAHHHH…CA VAAAAAAAA????

 

You turn around, and there she is. Your neighbour. Bra-less, fearless, glowing, and full of love. But she’s about to Sinon, ca-va you, and you can barely handle it.

 

“Bonjour!” you say, acting as chipper as possible

“Bonjour” she replies, making you note that it’s been far too long since the last time you saw one another. You smile politely.

“Eh, bon, ca va?” she asks you

“Oui, ca va, ca va, et toi?” you inquire, knowing the answer before she utters it.

“Oui, ca va” she responds

 

And that’s when it begins. The Sinon ca va-ing, that is. It is always preceeded by a punctuated, awkward silence, a bit of foot shuffling and nervous giggling, a few follow up questions like “et ta collocateur, ca va?”/ “et le travaille, ca va?” and then finally, as if with violins and symbols crescendo-ing in the background, the phrase is spat out “et sinon, ca va?”

 

What drives both my roommate and I crazy about the whole phenomenon is not so much that Sinon, ca-va-ing is a repetitive and a redundant operation. It is, instead, the fact that neither individual is comfortable enough to admit to the other that there is truly nothing interesting to report. That they have been ca va-ing just fine for the past twelve hours and that truly not much has changed in their lives since.

 

The phenomenon had been driving me so up the wall lately, in fact, that I began to realize that this was—indirectly—perhaps one of the main pillars of my homesickness: the fact that there are plenty of incredible people around to talk to, but that I have a really difficult time conversing with past the formalities and small talk.

 

I began to think that it was hopeless; that I would be doomed to this spiral of Sinon-ca-vaing with fellow Capesterrians for the rest of my stay, limiting my more expansive conversations to my roommate and other fellow language assistants. This thought made me think and feel lonely.

 

And then my Step dad gave me some food for thought. Loneliness is real, he assured. And being far away from family and friends, in a different culture is real as well. But as people, most of us tend to be a bit neurotic and create our own kinds of loneliness, within our psyches— loneliness that can follow us wherever we go, unless we are prepared to address it.

 

So this is what I have been trying to address throughout the past week—this loneliness and neurosis within that tells me I am a “failure” at engaging in meaningful conversation with locals.

 

Last week, I decided to take sinon ca-va-ing head on.

 

On Sunday, a man sinon, ca va-ed some friends and I and we responded “no,” because it was raining and we had planned to go to the beach. He suggested we take cover at a pizza place, and half an hour later, we were feasting and watching a local carnival band parade by.

 

On Monday, a woman who I give English lessons to Sinon-Ca-va-ed me, and instead of simply ca-va-ing back, I began to tell her about my desire to learn the Gwo Ka (the local drum here). Two days later, I was sitting across from one of the most well known Gwo Ka players in Guadeloupe, learning one of the seven basic Ka rhythms from him.

 

My roommate seems to be subconsciously following the same trend. A gas station attendant sinon ca va-ed her last night, and—by slightly changing her response—she somehow ended up bringing home a roast chicken and French fries for dinner. (A real treat, in our crackers-n-cheese abode).

 

Moral of the story? Loneliness sucks. And so does sinon ca-va-ing. But don’t let either deter you from getting to know yourself better, meeting others, and learning a bit a about life.