The Reunion (Meeting in French) That Never Ended

I was invited to a meeting in a village about 15k away. Feeling very unproductive I greatefully accepted something to pass another day of Ramadan. Mistake #1. I left my house at 8:30AM for a 10AM meeting. I thought the bike ride was about 1 ½ hours. I later remembered that I had only done the ride the other way which is up the huge mountain about 15k. About ½ way there I realized I was early even if the meeting would start on American time (very doubtful). I decided to take a detour to vist this beautiful side of the mountain. However, it got too step to ride anymore so I locked my bike to a tree and hiked down the side of the moutnain. After telling myself over 5 times that I really needed to turn around, I finally did. I retrieved my bike and continued on the main road riding my breaks down the mountain until my hands were sore and breaks practically rubbed away. I was not sure of the exact location but as I was stopping to ask someone in my stellar Pular where the meeting was the man that invited me to the meeting sped by on a moto. I quickly hoppped back on my bike but was quickly dusted by the moto. I rode until I saw a group of men outside the school perched in the trees chopping them down in order to finish their fence.

I arrived at 11AM with no hopes of the commencement of the meeting in sight. The guy that sped by on the moto had now disappeared and would come back in an hour to start the meeting. After hanging out a bit he finally reappeared and his first words to me where...Did you fall off your bike?” Apparently he did see me as he wizzed by. I look a bit dirty even though I had slid my pants off and wrapped myself up in an ankle length skirt appropriate for the meeting BUT had no new scrapes, bruises or black-eyes to speak of.

When the meeting finally started the school room was packed with about 100 women, men and children. The Director of the Primary School was assigned to translate from Pular to French for me. He worked so dilligently for about 4 hours when he realized I had grown tired of the long speeches with little new content. The group spent over 1 hour talking about increasing the union membership dues but still had not decided what to do with the last years dues. Now you understand why I found much more entertainment in watching the people spit on the floor of the classroom since it was Ramadan they were not allowed to eat or drink anything which includes swallowing their spit. I also spent some time examining my translator’s outfit. As a well respected memeber of the community he was wearing appropriate clothing however funny we find it. As is the fashion he had on a men’s style American green pair of pajamas accentuated by pink trimming on the sleves and breast pocket. This outfit was accessorized with a black and red 2 tone “50 cent” hat supporting the american rapper. The most disturbing scene however was the sick baby chocking on her own mucus while the mother blew on her face to make her stop crying. When this failed she stuck her breast in its mouth to feed her. As you can imagine the baby promptly threw-up the milk and the women was asked to leave for causing such a disturbance. An hour later I could not tell if I was having nightmares about this chocking or I was still hearing it. When we finally broke the meeting for 2PM prayer, I realized that woman was standing outside the room the whole time.

The prayer time came as a huge relief. I snuck around the corner to drink the last of my litter of water. Unfortunately, I had not planned very well and did not bring food or a sufficient amount of water to what I thought might be a 4 hour trip turned into an 11 hour voyage. I watched as the men lined up for prayer and about 70 women fell in behind them wearing headwraps ranging from traditional fabric to tye dye material to a plaid wool blanket. Shortly after prayer, a verbal fight broke out about the NGO taking out the wire fencing (which is really expensive here) that they put in a year ago to a very unproductive group of farmers. At this moment, I decided to slip out as quickly as posssible. To my dismay, I heard my name along with a string of Pular phrases. I was being applauded for not participating in a the argument and remaining in my seat. About 15 minuts later it had calmed down and I was able to slide out with a few others. It helped that my translator (new friend) got so frustrated he left. As I was leaving, the guy in charged (who invited me) takes me to the side tells me in a whisper that he is leaving the country unbeknownst to anyone else and can I please help this group!

I will not bore you with the horrible details of my painful ride up the moutnain while accidently nearly participating in Ramadan without food or water Neeedless to say, I did a lot of pushing the bike and laying flat on my back on the side of the road talking small breaks. I rode into Lelouma stopping at the first small shop that sells cookie type crackers a few kilometers out. I was riding slowly and stuffing packets of cookies into my face just as the sun was setting. Another good day!