Foreign Women Make The Best Wives?

I’ve read a number of places on game blogs about the idea of simply bypassing marrying an American women due to their sexual hang ups / sluttiness / gold digging / sense of entitlement and marry a foreign woman from a more traditional culture.

I’ve had some minor experience with this.

Back in the good old days of evangelical Christianity I did a short term mission stint in Fiji. Not the touristy Fijian island, but the more heavily populated with ethnically Indian island of Fiji. That’s as in Indian’s transported from India as workers/slaves courtesy of ye olde British Empire. Periodically the Indian group gets the short end of the stick from the more properly Fijian group and while I was there the stick was getting rattled loudly. A few months after I left the military coup went down and the stick came out properly.

Anyway… here’s how a typical attempt at me buying something in a store went…

Me:  “Hi I’d like to buy a Coke”

Cashier: “Please have a free one”

Me: “Wow so nice, thanks”

Cashier: “Now you must come home and have dinner with my family”

Me: “Ummm what?”

Cashier: “blah blah blah something in Hindi blah blah blah”

Then suddenly two or three other guys would show up from apparently the next store joining this one and be extremely friendly and happy to see me. And very very insistent that yes I just had to come home for dinner and meet the family. They just wanted to show hospitality….

So no matter the time of day, nine in the morning, two in the afternoon, eight at night, I’d be near kidnapped to these people’s home and a meal would be prepared. Speaking kindly, these were people of modest means. I always had a sense that this was a better meal that they usually ate, though nothing much more than rice, chicken and some sort of spice.

Then the questions would start up, do I have a girlfriend, am I married yada yada yada. And there always was a girl, no doubt the prettiest one of whatever daughters of marriageable age in the family. They were always beautiful, polite, charming, well dressed and more often than not the one serving me the food. Then just staying attentive and leaning in close to hear better as the sudden rains pounded against the corrugated iron roof. Sitting as close as possible without touching.

I can’t claim I had anything special about me. This was happening to all the guys I went with pretty much as well. I had three of these kidnapped home for dinner events on the second day I was there. I never got a straight up marriage proposal, but it was absolutely clear that if I had wanted to leave with a beautiful submissive eighteen year old virgin it would have happened with a bidding frenzy like an eBay auction closing on Brittany Spears unwashed thongs.

But it was all a terrible trap. All they really wanted was a citizenship bridge out of Fiji. Once I marry the girl we would have lived in New Zealand. Then there would have been an endless stream of siblings, uncles, cousins all using me and my house as the stepping stone to living in New Zealand too, with no way to realistically deny them indefinitely living with me until they found their footing. Just imagine the “family card” getting played on me from dawn to dusk by every relative she has. Usually the demand is sending money home to the wife’s parents etc, but in this case the expectation would be some light money laundering to get assets out of Fiji. I’m 100% serious, these were desperate times for them.

So I passed on them all. After about a week I started reading the whole situation better and started politely declining the dinners at home routine. Word got around and things calmed down. Just the Coke please.

And for the record, some of those girls – not the ones with secret boyfriends (lol!) -  were genuinely hopeful. A New Zealand passport created gina tingle like a quarter million dollars. Despite knowing it was going to be a trap, when I left Fiji I had a real sense of unease about not saving one of them. Kinda like I found a box of kittens and just kept walking.