West Winging It by Pat Cunnane

Author:Pat Cunnane
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gallery Books

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I. Despite aggressive lobbying by his owner, Louie did not make the cover.

II. I know, I know. I groaned writing that line.

III. Okay, I may not have cracked the top 40.

IV. So named by a coworker after the snail in SpongeBob SquarePants.

6

* * *

Disaster Casual

Ubuntu is very difficult to render into a Western language. It speaks of the very essence of being human.

—DESMOND TUTU

Put yourself in his shoes. Imagine: you’ve just arrived in Africa, your own father’s homeland. Because this is one of your most meaningful overseas visits, you’re traveling with your mother-in-law, one of your daughters, and your wife—herself the descendant of slaves. You are touring Goree Island, the infamous, haunting marker of the transatlantic slave trade off the coast of Dakar, Senegal.

You conclude your visit to the both literally and figuratively dark Maison des Esclaves: the “House of Slaves.” You move toward a small doorway bathed in light. You step out of this haunting memorial and are instantly at the vantage point of so many Africans who, for hundreds of years, took in that very view as they were forced to board boats embarking for the New World. Out of this “Door of No Return,” your children’s ancestors could have been forced to North America to live and die as slaves. Some of those men and women who exited the portal might even have gone on to help build your family’s current home.

You are America’s first black president.

If ever there was a place to consider the past, the future, and where we stand now, then this place—where humanity took root and racism took hold—is it. Out on this ledge overlooking the Atlantic, you’re eyeing the vast blue expanse and contemplating these enslaved men’s and women’s journeys. Simultaneously, the African continent—indeed, the entire world—considers your own journey. From a community organizer with a funny name to the leader of the free world (still with a funny name). You’re hope-and-change incarnate, and this place and time, this moment, captures that—for you and for your family: the First Family. The eyes of the world are upon you; you must be simultaneously feeling the triumph of this important visit for your presidential self, and a private, personal sadness about this dark history.

And then a boat full of reporters floats into your view, snapping, clicking, gawking.

A bunch of White House journalists get into a boat off the coast of Africa: it sounds like the beginning of a bad joke. I wished it were a joke. Instead it was my job: to mind the press pool no matter where it took me, as reporters angled for a view of the president. I was mortified the minute we hopped off the dock and into the boat. It felt intrusive, like a celebrity house tour. To me, we had no business being in the president’s frame. But such is life when you’re traveling with the leader of the free world. Unfortunately, the White House press corps did not share my concern. Shameless almost by job definition, the members of the president’s press pool were adamant that they get the shot.

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