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On First Ladies and Passing at the Equator: Madame Sarkozy, Madame Michelle, Maman Chantal

On First Ladies and Passing at the Equator: Madame Sarkozy, Madame Michelle, Maman Chantal On First Ladies and Passing at the Equator Madame Sarkozy, Madame Michelle, Maman Chantal marie lathers "Bonjour!" The young man smiled full in my face as I moved toward the water. "Bonjour." I vaguely grinned back, sunspots bouncing off my retina. I waved to my daughter, Linden, who romped in the waves with Elvis and Geraldine, our Anglophone driver and cook who formed part of our Cameroonian family. A literature professor in the United States, I was on a Fulbright grant to teach in the French-speaking part of the country. It was October 2008, and we were on vacation at Seme Beach, in the South-West Province, Mile Eleven from the town of Limbe and mere hours from the equator. He paused; I wondered why. Was he one of the local men who frequented the hotel in search of middle-aged white women to wine, dine, and hand the check to? I had seen a few such couples, and I had seen their mirror images: young, beautiful black women with old white men clinging to them. In the hotel restaurant Geraldine had recognized one of her high school friends hanging onto a large white man: "Look what has become of http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png Frontiers: A Journal of Women Studies University of Nebraska Press

On First Ladies and Passing at the Equator: Madame Sarkozy, Madame Michelle, Maman Chantal

Frontiers: A Journal of Women Studies , Volume 33 (1) – Apr 20, 2012

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Publisher
University of Nebraska Press
Copyright
Copyright © Frontiers Editorial Collective.
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1536-0334
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Abstract

On First Ladies and Passing at the Equator Madame Sarkozy, Madame Michelle, Maman Chantal marie lathers "Bonjour!" The young man smiled full in my face as I moved toward the water. "Bonjour." I vaguely grinned back, sunspots bouncing off my retina. I waved to my daughter, Linden, who romped in the waves with Elvis and Geraldine, our Anglophone driver and cook who formed part of our Cameroonian family. A literature professor in the United States, I was on a Fulbright grant to teach in the French-speaking part of the country. It was October 2008, and we were on vacation at Seme Beach, in the South-West Province, Mile Eleven from the town of Limbe and mere hours from the equator. He paused; I wondered why. Was he one of the local men who frequented the hotel in search of middle-aged white women to wine, dine, and hand the check to? I had seen a few such couples, and I had seen their mirror images: young, beautiful black women with old white men clinging to them. In the hotel restaurant Geraldine had recognized one of her high school friends hanging onto a large white man: "Look what has become of

Journal

Frontiers: A Journal of Women StudiesUniversity of Nebraska Press

Published: Apr 20, 2012

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