Life Marches On

So hard to remember the highlights of the last month or so. I have sent about 22 days without American contact which does not count the less than 24 hour visit from my boss. Also, he is my boss.

This PORTO (foreigner) finally decided to roll-up her sleves and get to work. I planted a few trees and helped a group of women to plant a bunch of corn. I think they were amazed that a white woman could work that hard. I guess hard work is all relative as I was the youngest there by a good 15 years. But in all actually we got the old fashioned hoes out and prepared the land, dug the holes, carried water in buckets from nearby streams to fill the holes with water and the corn seeds. Not easy work! Luckily for the women, the corn is growning well as it is a major source of their income, as for my trees...weeeeellll, I will have to wait and see.

Rainy season has begun with a boom. Until yesterday it had rained every day for 12 days. What did this mean for me. At it’s worst it meant that I was running through the village in rushing water over my ankles. The disgusting part of this is that the goats, sheep and cows gladly roam the village and make their deposits at will. All of this “debris” was mixed in with the rushing water overtaking my sandals and lower legs. There was no avoiding it! Rainy season also means that I got to be reaquainted with my sleeping bag. As I just finished washing all my laundry in the river sheets and pillow cases included (I finally found the woman’s side) a huge storm hit and there I was carrying my wet laundry (10 shirts, 4 skirts, 4 bandanas and countless other items) home in a heavy bucket on my head.

I have a lot of work to do to perfect the carrying of heavy objects on my head. The most amusing head carrying trick is the smaller trees that the women carry after they chopped them down in the forest and use them for firewood for their “outdoor stove”. Often times you cannot deciper the tree from the person. The most outrageous siteing goes back to my first week in country when I saw a huge truck tire rolling along on a guy’s head. What a skill! I have much time to perfect this but currently am the butt of the communities jokes when it come to this topic. As I roll up to the water pump with my big bidon to be filled and attached to the back of my bike which usually requies the help of another to lift the “bungy cord” and stabilize the bike. “She has been here for 2 months and still uses that bike...!!”

After 22 days at site, I woke up at 6AM and knew it was time to go (I miss talking to my momma). I got a few pairs of “undergarmets” together and threw them in a sack with a bit of water and a small snack and ventured off on my 62k (37mile) bike ride to Labe. This adveture caused me to remember why Lelouma is so beautiful...it’s in a valley surrounded by mountains...most of which I had to push my bike up. Five long, tiring, blazing, windy yet rainless hours I arrived at the PC regional house....it was empty. The friendship that I had so badly needed was not here. Yikes, of course it is a random Monday but these minor details slipped my mind when I started off on my adventure. I scavanged the house for the phone number of the Americans who live here and work for NGOs. Thank God they were both in town and we had a lovely dinner of pizza and fries. Much deserved!

Realities

It has come to my attention that I maybe I have not been giving accurate descriptions of my life in Guinea as I have tended to focus on the funny parts of my adventure and gloss over the tough ones.

My first month at site was challenging to say the least. My language skills are not strong enough to really be effective in French yet and I know very little Pular. Guinea does not have the sense of privacy that the US does and people are always coming to my house asking if I will teach them English. Kids are screaming Porto “white person” but now they call me “Andrena” which I guess that is good enough. My closest volunteer is 56k away over and through a bunch of mountains.

My normal day consists of waking up at 7AM sweeping the cement house…all of it cause it is dirty, going to the well to get water for bathing and dishes (hoping to beat the other family there because it will be dry if I don’t), going to the pump to get “drinking water” that has to be filtered and bleached, making breakfast on my two burner gas tank stove, taking a bucket bath and now I am ready to start my day.

I go visit friends or they come by to see me or if I just need company I go sit in the café which results in interesting conversation at the least, however, always with men because the women are at home working and most of them don’t speak French either. I may go visit a groupment, study French, go for a bike ride, teach a little English or read a book during the day. I am still trying to get to know people so I have been advised not to start any big projects. However, I have constructed a solar dryer to dry all the mangos that are falls off the 4 trees in my concession. It became very obvious that I could not eat all of them before they spoil the time I ate 7in one day and really did not feel well.

Next week I will be planting a special tree called Marangia that is very nutritious which is so needed for the children in the village. Mom will have to grind the leaves into a power and then sprinkle it on the food to provide vitamins. Also, hunger season is coming up so I hope this thing grows fast. The evening consists of cooking dinner or eating with one of a few families. By the time I finish it is usually dark, 7:30PM, I hang out at my house for a bit and then go to bed fairly early as there is no electricity.

Hopefully this more accurately portrays my life here.

Okay now just one quick funny story. I was walking around the one church in town trying to figure out what time mass was on Sunday when I ran into a guy that told me the time and asked if I was Christian. His very next question was "do you drink because I sell beer at my house". 90 percent of my village is Muslim so of course there are no bars and of course I said no I don't drink and no I don't want to have a beer with you at your house at 12 on a random Tuesday.

There is no place like home.....

My new home that is!!! It is so amazingly beautful tucked away in a valley surrounded by mountains, rock formations, a river and a few small waterfalls which will become huge by the end of august (wet season).

A few reflections on the past month at site. You know you’re in Guinea when

=you don’t have a phone that works, the radio was broken and you had no way to finalzie your plans wiht your friends buy you take off on a 40k bikeride over and down 3 huge mountains knowing it will all work out. You are not sure where to find these grand falls called shutes de sala but you nearly ride off the side of the mountain into the falls hundreds of feet below saved only by the one guard rail that exists in guinea.

=you hike 5k in the heat of the day to look at a groupments garden (group of women working together towards a common goal) talk to them about their groupment for an hour or so and walk away with a live chicken as a “small gift”. The president works in 4 different groupments to help support the family and she gives mea figt that is workth ¼ of her monthly income. I have no intention of accepting but whe I tell this to my counterpart he says it is rude not to accept it. Now we jef off in a taxi that has stopped for us with a live squawking chicken in toe.

=You set off on a n 18 mile hike to “les eschelles” (2 gigantic ladders made of bamboo) at 10:30 wearing kakhi’s because you are with a govenerment official Neither of you know where you are going but you get to a nearby village and hire a 9 year-old as a guide. When you finally arrive hot and tired at this amazing spot the official is scared to decend the ladders and forbids you to do the same. You act like you don’t understand his French and go down anyway only to be rewarded with a spectacular view of the valley and the sight of a family of monkys playing in the trees. You make it a business trip by visiting a groupment on the way back.

=Your friend (the government official) comes by on a random Tuesday monring to let you know that you are needed at the police office...now. Not understanding why you quickly march there together. After waiting for the chief to finish his other business you are bombarded by questions ranging from your work to your age. Next you answer all the same questons for the other volunteer who lives in your prefecture but is not there. He is just getting this information to keep us safe. Only 2 days later we are awarded another trip to the police but this time with PC staff. Moral of the story, is go visit early and don’t wait til you hear the call.

=Les eschelles take 2 only this time with the PC landcruiser trashing through the forest until we could not possibly drive any further. We land about 20 minutes fro the gigantic bamboo ladders, race there (in a skirt this time), a few of us descend and then must go back. I have now seen les eschelles 2x more than most Guinean’s in my village. I should take that back, some of them saw les eschelles on tv back when there was electricity in Lelouma.

=It’s Sunday, all your clothes are dirty and could not possibly be worn again. Its dry season so your well is almost dry...what to do? Go to the river and pound your clothes against a rock of course. Although you accidently end up at the mens spot you are rewarded with reggaie music and dancing because your friend (the taxi cab driver) has driven his car into the river for a quick wash. Just a quick note that your clothes do somehow actually get clean in the river but you just hope that the cow poop has already been washed downstream.

Hope you enjoyed these few details of my life in Guinea. Stayed tuned next month for more.