"Give me the business" on the Mozambican bus

Back when I was in my super-pretentious, French New Wave-loving phase (hint: not that long ago), I watched a Godard film about 1960s Paris. "Les enfants d'aujourd'hui, the children of Marx and Coca-Cola" the back of the DVD box had proclaimed. Whatever that was supposed to mean, it sounded interesting, so I rented it. (For the record, the adorable dark-haired girl with bangs fell in love with the chauvinist male protagonist, only to get pregnant and abort the fetus... let's just say it was a bit of a downer. Though it no doubt provided amusement to my French teacher when I referenced "throwing away a baby" in an essay. Oh, idioms...)

Still, "the children of Marx and Coca-Cola" have always fascinated me. In the film, they're frequently seen waxing philosophical in sidewalk cafes -- maybe French people do that naturally? -- and, well, raging against the machine, or whatever it is that nonconformists do. At the same time, though, there's this pervasive American-ness that even the (so I hear) snobby Frenchies have to acknowledge. 'Cause I mean, let's be honest: their food and language are wonderful, but they've been a little on the decline post-Napoleon.

And of course, I know that Hollywood churns out a lot of movies, and that there's a lot of music being made here in the states, but it's quite another thing to experience this sort of Americanization in another country. As an American.

We took a public bus from Maputo to Inhambane, the "sleepy colonial town" the guidebooks had mentioned. The bus was considerably larger than the chapas we'd been frequenting in the city, but once all was said and done, there wasn't much personal space. It also turns out that having a duffel bag on your lap for seven hours isn't too comfortable. (On the way back, however, I learned the true meaning of discomfort, as I sat beside a guy with the worst B.O. I've ever experienced.)

The driver, though, had some jammin' tunes he decided to play -- some of it sounded kind of tropical/Brazilian. It wasn't anything I'd heard before, so it was a nice way to see the Mozambican countryside. A couple of songs were really, really repetitive techno (is that phrase redundant? I guess so), and I prayed to the powers-that-be that the music selection would soon change. I'm not a fan of techno. (Sorry, Melissa.)

And then Beyonce came on.

Seriously! It is impossible to get away from her. She's everywhere. And then the guy who sings "I Wanna Make Love in this Club" (Chris Brown? Sorry, bad with pop culture; forgive me?), then Rihanna (I love her... but honestly?). So basically, I was seeing the Mozambican countryside to a Rihanna soundtrack.

Then -- and maybe this isn't that new, but I've never heard it -- a song with magical lyrics came on. And by "magical," I mean incredibly subtle. The chorus went something like, "and then you GIVE ME THE BUSINESS".

It was bizarre. A bus full of Mozambicans, most of whom cannot speak a word of English, listening to a somewhat-graphic song about doin' it. In the Mozambican countryside. Where it's drastically more conservative than in the cities, and if you're going to wear a skirt, better make sure it's knee-length. The Business! Strangest moment of my life.

Also, good job, America. The 'Hood follows me everywhere I go!