Faire du Sport

If there is one think that has made my host famaily dad proud of me in the last month it was that I was going to faire du sport… « play sports » or in my case go running. I am not sure if it was because I finally got out of bed before the other women in the house finished sweeping the dirt in the front and back yard or because the neighbors saw his fote “white person” running around the neighborhood at a really riduculous time in the morning. In any case, I know the reasons are definitely not that I run around in shorts that don’t cover my knees (thights are considered highly sexy here) and that I might burn calories and maybe loose a pound or 2. In fact, my family drew the conclusion that I was getting fatter after starting my expercise program.

It was a weekend, a time to relax and shake off the business of the week and kick back. After coming in from a French study session (I am sure that is what I told them) I greeted my fater as usual in appropriate Guinean fashion. We have this routine down by now BUT today he hit with a new one. He said (in French) Ma Youla you are so fat. So after 3 weeks of living with my family I am suddenly fat. Me taking my laid back weekend approach said okay, thanks in my best French. I often use this new “fact” to my advantage when I cannot eat anymore rice and fish (head) sauce. “Wow, I am fat, I just cannot eat another bite”. This is usually accompanied by me puffing out my stomach as far as it will go and pounding wildly on my pouched stomach. Fortunately or not, being called fat is a compliment in Guinea. The fact this compliment came 3 weeks after they started feeding me can be translated into, we made you fat, you are healthy and well fed. As a side note, for those of you wondering, I am the same size I was when I arrived.

Now down to the imporant” details of my life. The next two years will be spent in a village/town called Lelouma. It is supposex to be a major tourist destination. Although, I cannot honestly say that prior to arriving in Guinea I could not think of any town in a counry that I could not find on a map as a major tourist destination. Yes, my geography skills are bad in all fairness to Guinea. So what draws the masses? The words of the educated say that the town is surrounded by mountains and very close to the famous waterfalls. The long and short of it all is that my bakcyard is an untouched haven of natural beauty. Some suggestions for my work where to promote ecotourism (share the beauty with others), take youth on a hike (are they joking or did I just find the most perfect job ever) and as I read on much to my delight it said work with women’s cooperatives and assist the local credit union.

This news lead to a wek long high which puts me right here in Mamou on Thursday night. The next week will possibly be the most terrifying week yet starting with a workshop with my counterpart (the person I will be working with for the next 2 years). This event within itself is not terrifying BUT the fact that I can only express myself as a 5 year old in French is. In addition, all classes for the next 2 days are in French. After this lovely experience, I will jet off with him/her to my site for a few nights. Sure, I don’t know the details regarding my visit to Lelouma which may elimiate some of the need for worry right now. I will be replacing another volunteer but unfortuately for me he is leaving at the end of the month and has already started hiking around the country for his last hurah! After my site visit I will go to the regional capital, Labe, spend a few days (I hope) and head back to Forecariah with other PCTs in a bush taxi...my first experience.

Jetting back to past...last weekend. I went on a cultural outting with the other volunteers who did not think driving a total of 6 hours for a 4 hour beach expedition was riduculous. Guinea is on the coast but the key is find a spot where they are not pumping raw sewage in the water and it is safe enough to swim. This better explains why we drove almost to Sierra Leon to get to the beach. The drive was amazingly beautiful and terrifying at the same time. We zipped down the unpaved “bike paths” and over “natural” speed bumps and through green plantations until we were not physically able to drive the route any more. All of us piled out of the bus only to cross a “bridge” made of twigs thatched together. Imagine this, a single file line of 30 Americans marching through a small viallage with Guinea national music blaring in the background. Yes, we paraded thorugh the town only to have ½ of the town follow us to the “beach” or ocean. Much to our surprise when we arrived at the ocaen we were greeted by a ship the size of the titanic that has washed up on shore and rusted out. Upon further investigation, we noticed that the water was going out and the sand/mud was black. However, we were at the beach and not going to let a few small details get us down.

The women slowly and unsurely took off thier skirts to expose their thighs, not quite sure what response this might elicit from the town folk. Hoaving been unable to fully submerge our bodies in water since arriving in Forecariah (I cannot fit in a bucket of water) we darted off to the ocean. Quickly people began to sink into the mud/sand. First it was the toes which made for hard walking, then the feet, then up to the ankle. The towns people were quick to point out the swimming was much better near the beached titanic. So we took the advince and trudged to the other end of the beach, but not before an intense mud fight was launched and all of us had been significantly cleansed in mud. After almost 15 minutes of walking/wading out to the deepest spot water was up to my knees. Me being a gigantic 5.2 this was hilarious. We played in the water for over an hour engaging in psydo swimming, belly flops and frisbee. However, hunger overcame us all adn we went in for lunch. After lunch, various activities such as walks on the beach, frisbee with the locals and of course soccer occured. Prior to us engaging in these physical activities we were their source of entertainment. An invisible line was drawn in the sand in which neither of us crossed. The difference was that we were thier television. Apparently, a simple activity such as eat lunch, reading a book or lying on a towel where of utmost entertainment.....spawning FOTE TV.

Already 30 mintues late for dinner must go and see if I can get some food.