Holidays in West Africa

Well! So sorry for my lack of updates. Life has been crazy and busy and great. I have so much to write about: my most recent month at site, improvements at school, and my Christmas vacation. I'm going to focus on the past week for this post; next time I write I'll be doing a big update about life au village. This was my first Christmas away from family, which I wasn’t really excited about. However, I’d say we (me and my new Peace Corps family) made great surrogates for one another.

I’ve spent the past week in Senegal, which is just north of Guinea. It has definitely been the break that I needed, although getting here was quite an ordeal.

I’ll start from day one: I left my village on Thursday, December 20^th. Knowing that I’d have to hitchhike to my next destination, I wanted to make it to the paved road bright and early, but getting out of my village was not at easy as I expected: upon hearing that I was leaving for two whole weeks, all of my neighbors insisted that I come over and say my farewells. After making the rounds (which took several hours), I finally biked over to my principal’s house (he lives at the paved road), dropped my bike off with him, and headed to the gas station where I normally sit for the hours upon hours waiting for a car with an empty seat. Much to my surprise, before I had even reached the gas station, a car drove up and the driver asked me where I was going. It was a man and his three young sons heading to the capital for vacation; upon hearing that I was a Peace Corps Volunteer he told me that he works for UNICEF, welcomed me into his car, and gave me a ride to Mamou (a city about 5 hours west of Cissela) free of charge (he even bought me a free lunch to share with his sons). After spending the night in Mamou, I was able to meet up with a group of volunteers that I hadn’t seen in three months who were passing through which was lovely. That evening I headed to Labe, the regional capital of the Fouta region of Guinea, where our travel group of four convened.

The next morning, Saturday, we woke up bright and early, as our taxi driver was to pick us up from the Peace Corps house at 7AM… yet being a Guinean he didn’t show up until 10AM, and that was with us repeatedly calling him. Regardless, we finally piled into the taxi and started the journey to the border. It was long and exhausting but beautiful. The road is unpaved until you reach Senegal (about 7 hours from Labe), and the entire ride weaves through the mountains, which is terrifying but spectacular. We knew that the border closed at 6PM, and as the hours went on we were more and more nervous that we wouldn’t make it in time and we’d have to sleep on the side of the road. Luckily for us, we arrived at 5:50, with just enough time to make it through the seven checkpoints (yes, seven) where different officials insist upon entering your passport information into big, handwritten books that I doubt anyone checks. At the final checkpoint the gendarme nearly didn’t let us through, mostly because he wanted to hear us beg. Lovely, huh?

After crossing the border our giddiness and adrenaline quickly changed to hunger as we hadn’t eaten all day. We finally arrived at the Peace Corps house in Tambacounda, Senegal, where we had a quick dinner of rice on the side of the road and slept on the roof. Fortunately there was a group of extremely helpful Senegal volunteers staying in the house, so we had a nice time chatting with them and comparing our experiences.

At last, our final day of travel began on Sunday morning. The drive from Tambacounda to Dakar was long but so much easier than traveling in Guinea. For one thing, here they put seven people in a car, where in Guinea they put nine in a car of the same size (not including kids or people on the roof). Also, the roads here are much nicer (they are actually paved and have signs and they’re painted). The joys of working infrastructure! I will say, however, that Guinea wins hands down on physical beauty. Senegal is flat, flat, flat, although they do have some adorable picturesque villages.  Coming into Dakar was crazy; being in real traffic was a change! There is just so MUCH in Dakar: tons of businesses, way more variety of fruit and vegetables, and a denser population than basically anywhere in Guinea.

We spent four nights in Dakar, staying in a pretty nice, cheap hotel right downtown. We were happy to just walk around looking around the city, only taking breaks to eat delicious meals of Italian, Thai, Lebanese, French, etc., and exploring the incredibly stocked grocery stores. Christmas was definitely special: that morning we had stockings that Santa had stuffed for us (I’m not sure how he figured out we were in Senegal), presents under our mini Christmas tree, and Christmas music blasting. We spent the day on Ile de Gorée, an island a few kilometers off of Dakar, filled with cobble-stoned roads and colonial homes. It’s a bit of a tragic setting, actually; the island’s largest building acted as a slave house before they were sent across the Atlantic. The island honors its history with monuments scattered about. The weather was perfect that day: breezy and sunny. Perhaps not the most traditional Christmas, but festive nonetheless. The next day, Tess and I gave ourselves Christmas gifts: manicures and pedicures from the SPA! Yes, you heard me, there is a spa in Dakar, inside of a ridiculously nice shopping mall. Maybe we were insane for getting them done, but it was totally worth it. Overall, Dakar was great. One night we went out with a group of Peace Corps Senegal Volunteers, and they definitely showed us a good time. It’s nice to see that the Peace Corps community stretches beyond borders.

After our time in Dakar, we headed to Mbour, a town 80 kilometers south of Dakar, right on the ocean. We spent three nights at a ridiculously relaxing B and B on the ocean, and spent most of our days lounging either on the beach or by the pool, reading, sleeping, and drinking beers. Yes… I am still a Peace Corps Volunteer, despite how this may sound.

Speaking of which, my vacation has now come to an end, and school starts again on the 3^rd. As I write this, I am sitting in the Peace Corps Volunteer house in Tambacounda, and tomorrow I’ll be crossing the border back into Guinea. This may sound surprising, but I am really excited. Granted, I’m not looking forward to entering back into the world of crumbling roads, impossible transportation, and limited food options, but things are going so well in Cissela and I want to get back! Unfortunately, being in Senegal has made me realize how behind Guinea is in terms of infrastructure, but it’s also made me appreciate just how kind Guineans are and how beautiful the country is. In the end, I really can’t complain.

Next time I’m in Kankan I’ll be sure to post a big update about my time at site. The short and sweet of it all is that teaching is still hard but getting easier, and I love my village more and more everyday. To everyone I wish a very happy new year! Sending my love from this side of the Atlantic.

The Roller Coaster that is Peace Corps

This has been a month of ups and downs. And in Peace Corps, when you’re up, you’re really up, and when you’re down, you’re really down.

School provides a lot of the highs and the lows of my life. I’ve hit many roadblocks in my classes this month: difficulties in explaining concepts in French, student absence and tardiness, and cheating. I just completed my first round of exams for all of my classes, and I had to fail a LOT of students for cheating, and most of those that didn’t cheat still failed because they barely studied (if at all). It’s been discouraging, to say the least, but at least there’s a lot of room for improvement! I think the students were a little shocked about how strict I am about cheating and how I don’t give points for attractive handwriting (many Guinean teachers do), so they are adjusting to my style as well. As the year goes on, I’m hoping to incorporate some study skills lessons into class time.  I do know that many of these students are motivated and want to succeed, so I’m not giving up. I have had a few students come over to my house for help. I’ve reiterated to them that I have an open door policy – literally – if the door to my hut is open, they’re welcome to come by with questions. Alas. I knew that this wouldn’t be easy when I joined Peace Corps!

Fortunately, students are actually showing up pretty regularly now. There were a few days there where I was worried that I’d have to change sites since literally three students were showing up per class, but now I’ve consistently had about 25 students in each of my classes (still tiny for a Guinean class – I’m very lucky). Every morning, we arrive at 7:45 to raise the Guinean flag, and the students that are on time (usually about half of the school) sing the Guinean national anthem. They rush off to the classrooms, while the latecomers have to clean up the courtyard. The first class runs from 8AM to 10AM. Teaching for two hours straight is rough on me and even rougher on the students, so I try to break it up a little with some more interactive activities during class time, but some days I have no choice but to lecture for two hours. Then is a short recess from 10 to 10:15, and the next class runs from 10:15 to 12:15. Since the school is so understaffed, school ends at 12:15, although it still runs Monday to Saturday.

The students are, for the most part, great (despite their lack of study skills). I manage to laugh a LOT everyday (sometimes I have to hide it with my face towards the blackboard so that they don’t get too of hand) and I absolutely love seeing them around the village.

A few weeks back, Tess (my closest volunteer) and I decided to climb up to a waterfall that’s perched on a mountain between our villages. She talked to the mayor of her village, and he arranged for the “chef de chasseurs”, a.k.a. the head of the village hunters, to take us up one Saturday. What a day! We were accompanied by two hunters, decked out in what looked like Civil War-era giant shotguns, belts filled with bullets, rain boots, and silly looking hats that we were told are traditional hunter’s hats here. They brought along another guy to translate for us since the hunters didn’t speak French, and of course five or so teenage boys decided to come along to see if the two white girls really could make it up the mountain. I’d say we did pretty well for ourselves. Granted, the hunters RAN up the mountain…literally. We were on a tight schedule because we had to be back with enough time for me to make the hour-long bike ride back to my village in the daylight. We hiked up the mountain from Banko, Tess’ village, and walked along a ridge that rises and falls until we reached the source of the waterfall. Pretty quickly we realized why the mayor gave us two hunters – the brush is THICK at this time of year and there was no path to be spoken of, so we were quite literally bushwhacking for most of the hike, and the plants were taller than me. Being at the top of the waterfall was awesome but brief; we had to rush back down the mountain to be back in time. The hunters walked some 20 yards ahead of us, and we soon learned why. On the way down, we heard their guns go off, and when we made it to them, we saw two GIANT snakes writhing on our “path.” They were probably about four feet long – terrifying. The guns didn’t kill them, so the teenage boys threw rocks at their heads. While it was gruesome, I was happier to see those snakes dead than alive. We got back to Banko as the sun was setting and we were EXHAUSTED; it was over 6 hours of hiking with no breaks.  Fortunately, we found the one person in Tess’ village with a car, and he gave me a ride back for a small fee. It was worth it.

The Tuesday of that following week, on Election Day in fact, was an awful day. At some point during the night, Fatoumata, the 5-year-old that lived in my compound, passed away. I remember hearing shouting throughout the night, but not knowing what it was and falling back to sleep. That morning when I was leaving for school, I walked out of my hut and immediately knew there was a death: they had lined up benches in our compound and tons of people were sitting on them, the women with their heads covered, many of them crying. The village chief walked over to me to tell me what had happened: Fatoumata got violently ill in the night; they sent her off in a car to drive to the nearest hospital at 3AM (90 kilometers away) but she died 10 kilometers out of Cissela. I was completely shocked. The night before, when I went to bed, she was playing with the other kids in my compound and seemed completely fine.

The mourning continued for the rest of the week. Needless to say, it was devastating. However, there was supposed to be a wedding in my compound that Tuesday night, and it was only pushed back two days. I know that life must go on after something like this happens, but it was uncomfortable to have mourners around the compound by day and a giant dance party by night. Children die here quite frequently, but it’s not like that makes it any easier for Fatoumata’s mother and father.

The wedding was quite an event. I spent an entire day helping the ladies in my compound make little fried dough balls, and another day making ginger juice for the guests. The wedding was two days long: the first day, we all walked to the imam’s house for the religious ceremony. It was very laid back; we sat around his house on benches, and some people sat on the ground. The imam and the six village elders were sitting up on the porch, and each of them took turns to give Manti (the bride) and her new husband a blessing.

This month was also filled with hut improvement. I’ve had the inside painted blue, and the outside yellow with blue trim – it’s pretty adorable if I say so myself. Some of my 9^th grade students came over and fixed up my yard, and I finally went to the carpenter and had some new furniture made, meaning I now actually have a desk and no longer have to work on the floor. SO MUCH BETTER. As a Peace Corps Volunteer, it really is the little things in life that can make your day!

I still spend a ridiculous amount of time everyday drinking tea with Guineans. Aminata, my closest friend in the village, sends a petit (little kid) to get me every afternoon, and I know a group of guys in their 20-somethings will be sitting with    Aminata, making tea. It is enjoyable but a LONG process; it takes at least two hours.   Guineans are really patient people…

I’ve been in Kankan this weekend for a big Thanksgiving celebration. While we couldn’t get our hands on a turkey, a current volunteer managed to find a pig, which we (not me – other volunteers) slaughtered and roasted. Not very Thanksgiving, but you can’t find pork here since it is predominately Muslim, so it was as American as we could get! My ride to Kankan was ridiculous. We spent 6 hours on the side of the road essentially hitch hiking for a taxi with no luck. Completely discouraged, we were about go give up, when a man pulled over to ask for directions. Next thing we knew, we were in his car headed to Kankan. He was a doctor working for the Ministry of Health, traveling from village to village to evaluate health centers. We stopped in two villages along the way so he could do his thing, which was actually really cool. He would not accept a penny from us for the ride, saying that we gave up so much to live in Guinea and this was him saying thank you. When he told us we could join him, Tess and I literally started crying tears of joy. Perhaps that is a testament to how fragile we are here, but he literally made our day! I’ll head back to Cissela tomorrow, and I’m looking forward to it. These breaks are nice but my village is really starting to feel like home.

Happy Thanksgiving to everyone at home! Missing everyone a LOT.

A Story

Before I head back to site tomorrow, I wanted to tell a story about something that happened to me today  and something I've been thinking about a lot living here.

Today, Tess (a volunteer living in a village near mine who came with me to Kankan this weekend) and I went on an epic errand spree to get an assortment of items for our huts. There are lots of these you can find here that you can't get in village (teaching supplies, cooking items, foods), so we had a long list and a lot of walking to do. It's hot, sunny, and dusty in Kankan, so walking around for hours on end is exhausting. After a few hours, we stopped at a store to buy paint on our way back home. I've found a painter in Cissela who will paint my hut a pretty blue, but he told me I'd need to buy the supplies in the city. The first paint store we went to didn't have all of the things we were looking for, but the man send us to another paint shop that he knew would have them. Unfortunately because it's a holiday weekend (Tabaski, the Muslim holiday), that shop was closed, so we wandered around a little bit until we went back to the first shop to ask the man if he knew of another place in Kankan where we could find the items on our list. While there, another man told us he knew of a place, but when he explained to us how to get there we didn't quite understand. So... he told us he'd take us. He walked us all the way to the other paint store, talked to the guys there, and helped me figure out the pricing of everything. Once I saw how much stuff I needed to get and how heavy it was, I figured I wouldn't be able to get it back to the Peace Corps house and nearly gave up. BUT this generous man strapped the stuff to his moto, drove it to the Peace Corps house, and dropped it off. When I offered to pay him he refused, we shook hands, and he rode off on his merry way, about an hour and a half after we'd met him in that first shop.

I could spin this in a negative light and assume that the only reason he helped us was because we were white, or I could assume that he had nothing better to do with his afternoon than to help two damsels in distress. However, this generosity and eagerness to help is not unique to this man; it is something I see all the time here. I can think of a number of similar stories. Once, I was nearly stranded in a village 25k from mine because I couldn't get a taxi back and the one taxi headed in my direction wanted an exorbitant amount of money. A man I'd never met argued with the taxi driver, explaining that I was a volunteer and a teacher giving up the comforts of my life for two years to teach in Guinea, and when the taxi driver wouldn't budge the man insisted on pitching in for my fare. Tess' dog was sick this weekend, and a 13-year-old boy took the dog into his own hands to care for, taking him to the vet, feeding him, and checking on him periodically. When another volunteer's bike broke down on a remote dirt road, a man put the bike on his moto and drove it to the nearest village for repair.

Whenever I am annoyed with my situation in Guinea, whether it be when people are incessantly yelling "white person!" at me or when I'm vastly overcharged, I think of these instances of pure generosity. Guineans, generally speaking, of course, are generous people. Whenever a Guinean eats anything around someone else (I mean ANYTHING and ANYWHERE), they immediately invite them to join; this isn't just a courtesy, but a serious invitation, even when they may not have enough food or money to feed themselves. The principal at my school goes leaps and bounds to help me with anything, anytime, anywhere.

Sometimes Guineans ask me loaded questions about America, especially about the generosity of Americans towards one another. They want me to say that Americans are greedy and that they refuse to share anything with anyone, even members of their family. I try to explain that of course, most Americans share their wealth with their families, and many Americans are very generous, but that no, it's not like Guinea. They smile, and say "Oui, c'est comme ça en Afrique." This is an aspect of their culture that Guineans can and should feel proud of, so I shut up.

Madame Adrienne

A widely accepted fact here in the Peace Corps community is that the first month at site is potentially the most challenging time for a volunteer. Well… guess what? I survived! And I even had a little fun. I have so many stories and rants for this post, so I’ll try to break it up a little.

Installation

One month ago, I sat in a white Peace Corps Land Rover driving across Guinea, uncomfortably squashed sharing the row with three good friends, sleep deprived and mentally unstable. We were headed for Kankan, the regional capital of Haute Guinea, where we’d stop for two nights to meet all of the regional authorities before being placed at site. My feelings at the time were mixed: I was ready to move on and actually start my work as a volunteer, but the thought of being dropped off in my hut and officially being alone made the pit in my stomach grow larger and larger. It didn’t help that the car ride was sixteen hours long.

The next day, the nine of us destined to live in Haute went off to be “presented” to the authorities. Protocol is something that Guineans cherish – we had an entire two hour session during training on how important it is – so this formality of being introduced to the head honchos of Haute was not to be taken lightly. The first office we visited was that of the Gendarmes. Outside, men in military suits with guns strapped to their belts were lazily sitting under a tree drinking tea. We were taken inside and seated on oversized couches, facing a terrifyingly giant man who did not look like he’d ever smiled before in his life. The “presentations” went a little something like this: Serima, the Regional Coordinator for Haute, gave a little speech about the Peace Corps and its cooperation with Guinean authorities, handed over an official letter signed by the country director, and asked each of us to say our names. Then the man behind the desk would give his own little speech about how he and his office was ready to work with us and support us in an capacity.  Finally we’d shake hands and leave the office, then walk or drive to the next presentation. The first one was definitely the most terrifying – the non-smiling man glared at us, gave us an unnecessarily long speech about Guinea’s geography and history, and passive aggressively scolded Serima for not warning him that we were coming. The rest of the introductions went more smoothly, although there were so many packed into one morning I couldn’t even begin to list the names or titles of the people we met. Alas.

That night, we cooked a delicious Mexican dinner as a “last supper” before installation. The next morning, we packed the cars with ALL of our stuff (they looked crazy – bicycles, buckets, and stoves on the roof), said our farewells to those who were being installed separately, and headed off. Four of us were in the same car; first, we dropped off Morgan, unloading all of her luggage and saying goodbye. Next was my turn. The road between Morgan’s site and mine is around two hours on the worst stretch of road in Guinea, which did not help my nerves in the least. On one hand I wanted so badly to just arrive, but on the other I dreaded it. Finally, we pulled up in front of my hut, and a giant crowd of children gathered to watch the spectacle of the white girl moving into her hut. We quickly moved all of my stuff in, and I was rushed to say goodbye since we were running behind schedule. I stood outside of my hut with the crowd of kids waving at Tess and Kayla who drove off into the distance… and there I was! Alone at last!

The wise current volunteers told us one piece of cherished advice: after installation, stay busy. That night, and the next day, I unpacked, rearranged, and cleaned. I’d say I did a good job of averting a breakdown.

School

Around five days after I got installed, the school year officially started. “Officially” is a very loose term in these parts. I was warned that I probably wouldn’t really have to teach until the second week of school, but I was still utterly shocked when I showed up for the first day and was the ONLY PERSON THERE. Literally. The principal wasn’t even there (well, to be fair, he showed up 20 minutes later). Why does this happen, you may ask?

Well…I think it’s a combination of things. First of all, the Guinean government is not the best at planning and schedules the first day of school RIGHT in the middle of the harvest. My village is essentially 100 percent farmers (peanut, corn, and rice) and we’re currently at the height of peanut harvesting. The students at my school help their families out everyday in the fields. In addition to this, I think there’s just a herd mentality about showing up to school. I mean, the teachers aren’t even showing up, so why should the students come? (And vice versa.) In fact, that first day when my principal finally came, he told me that the other two teachers hadn’t yet returned from their respective vacations. Sadly, he said it was because they were waiting on their paychecks from the government that were several months behind.

The second week of school, students finally started showing up, but the school was a MESS from four months of being neglected so they spent the first two days cleaning. Finally, Wednesday of the second week of school, I started teaching. It still was a bit of a challenge because definitely not all of the students were showing up, so I had to start slowly and couldn’t jump into the curriculum. I spent a lot of time talking about my own background and about Peace Corps, and also going over the rules in my class. Mostly, the students are pretty adorable. They have to wear these hideous tan uniforms to school and they’re usually too big or too small on them. Slowly but surely I’m learning their names (though it’s going to take some time… Guinean names are just not the same) and now when I bike around my village I always hear shouts of, “Bonjour, Madame!” Whenever I go to the well or the pump I’m always intercepted by a student that insists on helping me. I’m not complaining about that…

The classes themselves are going…okay. I’m teaching English to all of the grades (7^th to 10^th) and Biology to 8^th, 9^th, and 10^th. English has been fun because the kids are really excited about learning it, although sometimes I question why I’m there when a lot of them can hardly speak French. I’ve really enjoyed teaching Biology, too, since it’s a change of pace, but it’s been a bit of a guessing game for me. The national program and the textbook (I have the only copy, the students don’t have one) don’t line up at all so I’ve kind of been pulling my lessons out of thin air. The French is also a bit of a challenge because there is so much new vocabulary for me. The Guinean classroom is just a limited format since you can’t pass out an exercise or tell students to open their books to page 104 – you have to write everything essential on the blackboard. I’m hoping with time I can figure out how to diversify my lessons.

Some days at school have been really discouraging. One morning this past week I showed up at 8AM (when classes start) and only two students were there. (I have no idea what it was with that day.) Other days I let my classes out at noon to find that all of the teachers have given up, let their students out early, and I’m literally the only person at the school and everyone else has gone home. We’re already so understaffed that school is from 8AM to noon (and oftentimes there’s a classroom without a teacher), but I think sometimes teachers just decide they’re not in the mood. Hopefully as the year goes on things will pick up.

I’m in a Clique

On approximately the third day at site, I was adopted by a gaggle of Guinean girls. They are in their 20’s, unmarried, and speak French – SO rare here! Everyday after school I go over to Aminata’s house; she’s a tailor and her family compound is right by my hut. (Families here live in concessions… basically a compound of huts and different family members live in each hut.) We drink atayah, which is tea prepared over coals. It’s extremely concentrated and loaded with sugar and we drink it out of a communal shot glass. It takes hours and hours to make one teapot of it. “Taking tea” has been a really good way for me to get to know tons of people in Cissela, and they’re mostly people around my age, because everyday we’re joined by different people. I just really need to work on my Malinke so I can really be a part of their conversations, because even if they speak French they definitely don’t use it to communicate with other Guineans. I’ve been trying to study Malinke a good deal but I’ve been so busy…not at all what I was expecting, since I was told that I’d have way too much free time once I arrived at site.

Weekend Activities

One of the best parts of service thus far has been the incredible bike rides I’ve been able to take. My closest volunteer is only 18 kilometers away so I’ve biked to her village nearly every weekend, especially since she has a HUGE weekly market where I can stock up on cooking and house supplies. Whenever we meet up we cook delicious, lavish meals. The road between our villages is beautiful; it’s a dirt road surrounded by rice, peanut, and cornfields. It’s fairly hilly but a really awesome ride with views of mountains and a waterfall. Unfortunately I don’t have a camera (though that should change soon), so I can’t post any pictures quite yet…

I’m currently on my first monthly regional capital visit. From now on, once a month I get to come into Kankan to stay at the volunteer house, enjoy all that the city has to offer (and trust me it seems amazing after a month in village), use the internet, and see other volunteers. I really can’t believe it’s already been a month in Cissela. Time is moving so much faster at site than it did during training. I can safely say that despite some discouraging aspects of site (especially at school), I’m doing really well and enjoying my time here. I know that most of the difficult things (language barrier, feeling lonely) will only get easier with time, although the celebrity status that comes with being a toubab (white person) won’t go away and is exhausting. Some days I wish I could just leave my hut to go find breakfast and not talk to ANYONE! But alas.

Getting online has been overwhelming but it’s been great to be receiving such kind words from everyone. While I’m at site I do have cell phone service and I will say again that you can text me for free from gmail! It is always such a pleasant surprise to hear from people when I’m sitting in my HUT! Here are the instructions again and my number is 68 71 57 14: http://www.google.com/mobile/sms/mail/

A la prochaine fois!

It's Official

I applied to the Peace Corps 1 year, two months, and 23 days ago. And now, finally, I can officially say I am a Peace Corps Volunteer. It's surreal!

The end of training went smoothly. Highlights included a talent show (I showed off my ability to lip sync to the Spice Girls), practice school awards ceremony, and farewell ceremony with our host families. The practice school awards were given out to the top three students in each class. The ceremony was held at the Lycee de Dubreka, and of course consisted of the trainees being forced to dance in front of all of our students while they crowded around taking pictures. We've gotten used to being a dancing spectacle. I was the "professor principale" (basically the homeroom teacher) for one of the Terminale classes, so I got to read off the rankings of the students and give the awards to the top three. The top student was not at all a surprise -- a girl named Maimouna Barry who is incredibly sassy but is incredibly devoted to learning English. Each of the top three students were given certificates and gifts of notebooks and pens for the coming schoolyear.

The farewell ceremony with our host families was held the morning we left Dubreka at the same location where the adoption ceremony took place, so it was nice bookends to our eleven weeks! The ceremony had lots of speeches (including one I had to give in Malinke, the local language of Haute Guinea) and dragged on as almost everything does here in Guinea, but I didn't mind because I was sitting with my favorite petites from my host fam. They got all dressed up for the occasion; it was adorable. The 4-year-old that my family decided is my "husband" spent the ceremony on my lap. The one downer is that, at the end of the ceremony when I went up to get a bowl of rice for my family, my camera was stolen... meaning all of the pictures I've taken of Dubreka and my host family in the past three weeks are gone. I'm working on figuring out a way to get a new camera, but I'm really disappointed and it was a sour note to leave on.

I've been in Conakry, the capital, since Wednesday, staying at the lovely volunteer house. We've had running water, a kitchen, air conditioning... it's unreal. Things I have eaten in the past few days: delicious omlettes and hashbrowns for breakfast, pizza (times two), salads (with LETTUCE and CARROTS ... unable to find these things in Dubreka), brownies and ice cream, the list goes on... Last night we celebrated two volunteers' birthdays that are coming up our first week at site. Julie, the country director, let us take over her house and kitchen (which feels like a little America, it's too bizarre), and we made a giant salad, mashed potatoes, chicken on the grill, and CAKE! We got to swim in Julie's pool, drink some beers, and hang out. It was lovely, and she really does feel like our surrogate mother.

We officially swore in as Peace Corps Volunteers on Friday evening. The ceremony took place on the Peace Corps compound. It was loooooooong (surprise surprise) but we were all so excited for the day to finally be here that I didn't mind. We all got matching fabric and tailored different outfits from it; we looked pretty great if I say so myself. At the end of the ceremony, we finally all stood up, raised our right hands, and recited the oath that all PCVs state and sign. It's a rite of passage (and felt a little bit like graduation all over again). After the oath there was much rejoicing and hugging. We ate a delicious dinner and proceeded to have a dance party (taking advantage of the fact that there was a DJ with real speakers) and a night of celebration.

On a heavier note, for most of our time in Conakry we've been unable to leave the Peace Corps compound due to unrest around the capital. The clashes are not part of the anti-American demonstrations that have been occuring so we are not in direct harm, but there has been some ethnic violence stemming from political strife. You can read about the situation here:
http://www.washingtonpost.com/world/africa/guinea-police-use-tear-gas-to-disperse-fighting-between-ethnic-groups-in-conakry-market/2012/09/21/5cbe1b7c-03e8-11e2-9132-f2750cd65f97_story.html
It's unsettling to be living in such an unstable country. Although I know I'll be perfectly safe in my little village away from Conakry, the future of Peace Corps Guinea and of the country as a whole seems to be a giant question mark. Peace Corps has evacuated Guinea twice since 2007; we are all hoping that things settle down for our sake and for the sake of Guineans.

On Tuesday I'll be leaving Conakry for INSTALLATION! I don't actually move into my hut until Thursday since I need to go to Kankan to meet the governor, but I'm really almost there. It's a terrifying and exciting prospect. The school year starts almost immediately, so I'll be busy busy busy which is definitely for the best. I'm sad to be leaving the 25 trainees that I have come to love so dearly. This group is so unique and I feel incredibly lucky to be a part of it! From here on out, I'll have internet access once a month, so I'll update my blog when I can. Thank you to everyone for all of your support. Let the real adventure begin!

Training Winding Down

I can officially say I’m at the home stretch of training, which is certainly a relief.

The past three weeks have been the busiest part of training: practice school. Everyday from 8 to noon, Guinean students from 7^th grade to Terminale (the final year of high school) came to the lycée (high school) de Dubreka for summer classes. Everyday, I taught a two-hour English class to high school students.

If you want to imagine me as a teacher in Guinea, I will paint a picture: covered in chalk, sweaty, and wearing pajamas. (Really. You can get an outfit tailored here that would be pajamas in the U.S. but that are seen as formalwear here.) Teaching English in Guinea requires a good deal of imagination. The national curriculum is underwhelming (to put it lightly) and resources are lacking (no books, just a blackboard and chalk). Students come to class with a notebook and a pen (or, at least they are supposed to, although I lent out a lot of paper and pens over the three weeks) and everything you write on the board they insist on copying down, since they have no textbooks or dictionaries. So basically as teacher, you better not tell them anything incorrect since you’re their only resource!

Some highlights from practice school:

One of the Terminale sections was actually filled with university students and graduates that had taken an interest in learning English. For that reason, their class was far more advanced than the other sections and it was a struggle to figure out what to do with them. When I taught them, I brought in a Time magazine from this past August and we dissected an article on the current drought in the U.S. Unfortunately since I don’t have access to a photocopier it had to be an oral exercise, which made it more difficult, but it ended up being a success.

My favorite level to teach is onzième (eleventh grade), the first year of English. The classes are introductory so they are focused heavily on vocabulary, rather than grammar, and vocabulary learning lends itself to more enjoyable activities (a.ka. games). Over the three weeks with my classes I played Guess Who, Jeopardy, I Spy, word jumbles, and the “line game” that we played in Mrs. Reed’s middle school French class…

I loved sitting in on other trainee’s classes, too. The 7^th grade class was around fifty students large, and was pretty crazy… although it was a much more realistic depiction of a Guinean classroom (50 students is an average class size here). The class was pretty unruly. Anytime a question is asked, students eagerly raise their hands, snap, and yell out “moi, monsieur!” or “moi, madame!” When they answer questions or when the teacher enters the classroom, they’re expected to stand.

Every Friday, we were expected to give our classes exams. That was another challenge. Cheating is rampant, and students have concocted a variety of ways to cheat with varying creativity. They sit staggered so they can see each other’s papers, hide cheat sheets in their desks, whisper in the local language, crumple up pieces of paper and throw them across the room with the answers, etc… Current volunteers have given us words of wisdom about how to handle these instances.

At the end of the three weeks, we had an awards ceremony for the stop students. Each of us listed off the top three ranking students in our classes, and they got certificates and gifts of notebooks and pens. It was nice to recognize the really motivated students.

On Wednesday, we leave Dubreka to go to Conakry. Our “swearing in” ceremony is on Friday. We spend six days in the capital, taking care of logistics, banking, shopping for site, etc. I’ll be able to update my blog once more before I head off to site. I’m a little sad about leaving my host family, but I’m ready to move on and actually get started as a Peace Corps volunteer!

On a final note… you may be curious about the political climate here in Guinea given what is going on globally. Guinea is a predominately Muslim country. Things have been calm for the most part, although today is a planned demonstration at the American embassy. We’ve been told we can’t leave the training center until further notice. However, the sentiment towards Americans is very positive here, and so far Peace Corps staff is on alert but remaining optimistic about our presence here. Hopefully it remains that way.

Thanks for reading, more to come later!

Pictures from Site Visit

My future hut and village, Cissela. I move in at the end of September.

Mariame Sylla? No, Mariame Cissé

OH boy. Do I have a lot to update or what?

On August 15^th we finally got a break from our regular training routine, not to mention a break from Dubreka. We began by traveling to Mamou, a town approximately five hours east of here in the Fouta region. The Fouta is strikingly different from Basse Cote (where Dubreka is located) – it is much more mountainous, less humid, and actually fairly cool (long sleeve shirts at night)! We stayed at ENATEF, a forestry school, in dormitory-style rooms. The purpose of our three nights in Mamou was to have a Peace Corps-run workshop with our future supervisors, meaning the principals of the middle and high schools where we’ll be working come October.

When we got off the bus in Mamou we were informed that some of our supervisors had already arrived. I scrambled to get changed into nicer clothes – I needed to look presentable to meet my future boss – and nervously went outside to find him. Everything that I had been told about supervisor workshop indicated that this first introduction is typically really awkward. One of the Peace Corps trainers found me and introduced me to the principal of my middle school, Moussa Konate. Sure, our first conversation was a little awkward, but not nearly as bad as I had feared. I introduced myself, expressed how excited I was to finally visit Cissela, and how much I’m looking forward to working in his school. He told me that they were very happy to have another Peace Corps volunteer and that Cissela has had three others in the past, three male math and physics teachers.

The next two days were spent in sessions for the workshop. Most of the information provided was intended more for our supervisors than for us (history and mission of the Peace Corps, the principal’s roles and responsibilities towards the volunteer, the volunteer’s responsibilities, etc). It was a lot of sitting through French being spoken at us, but it’s important to have the volunteers present so that we’re all on the same page. In my opinion, the most useful session was an hour of one-on-one discussion time with the supervisor. I was able to get a lot of information, mostly about my town and my school. I’m lucky because my school is super tiny – class size is about thirty students, which is almost unheard of in Guinea. There are only three teachers, the principal included, four including me. When Monsieur Konate heard that I studied Biology in college his eyes lit up, as his school desperately needs a Biology teacher. I told him I’d be happy to try, so it looks like I’ll be teaching both Biology and English. I’m hoping that Peace Corps can help me get my hands on some materials, namely the curriculum and some additional resources since I’ll be teaching bio in French…

After our three nights in Mamou, it was finally time to go visit site! I was a combination of nervous and excited – previous volunteers had told me that site visit isn’t the easiest, but that it gives a really important impression that your village will have of you for the next two years. To get to Cissela, I had my first experience in a bush taxi. Oh boy… those things are CROWDED. The majority of them are old hatch-back Renaults, painted yellow and with zero suspension. They have three rows, one with a passenger seat and the driver, the middle intended for three to sit, and the back for two. Well… in Guinea we like to keep it cozy, so two sit in the front passenger seat, four in the middle row, and three in the back. Since a number of us were headed to Haute, four volunteers and five supervisors crammed into my taxi. The ride to from Mamou to Cissela is BUMPY. Despite being the national highway, the road has not been maintained, so it is scattered with deep potholes. Looking out the window, I could tell that Haute looks markedly different from both the Fouta and Basse Cote. It’s less mountainous, less green (though still fairly lush – it is the rainy season), and the majority of homes are one-room round huts with thatched roofs (in the rest of the country, most people live in concrete houses).  

Five hours later, the driver pulled over and my supervisor told me that we had arrived! I got out of the car, said goodbye to my fellow trainees, and was finally the lone American in my village. We first stopped by Monsieur Konate’s hut, where I sat for a moment and collected myself. We then went and greeted the president of the APAE, the Guinean version of a PTA. My supervisor explained that my home is a bit over a mile off of the main paved road in the center of the village, so he found someone to drive my luggage and me. As we drove through I got more and more excited – Cissela is such an idyllic African village, and everything I had imagined when I applied for Peace Corps. Finally we pulled in front of my HUT! It’s exactly what it sounds like – a small, round room with a thatched roof. There are two doors, one that opens up into the rest of my compound and one that opens to my own, private backyard. The yard is an excellent aspect – it’s pretty tiny but it’s walled in and no one can see me, which is a level of privacy that is rare here. My bathroom is an outdoor latrine behind the yard. My hut is in the compound with the village chief, which is from my understanding a good thing. His family is really, really nice, but he’s the only one that speaks French, so I really need to work on my Malinke.

After we dropped my stuff off, it was time to greet the who’s who in Cissela. I was exhausted and overwhelmed, but had to remain composed and polite. I met the mayor, the commissariat, the village sage, the sous prefet, the head of the youth league, and the imam, among others. It was a bit awkward; I met the imam at a funeral, and he gave me a large benediction in front of all of the attendees. By the end of the afternoon I had met so many people my head was swimming, so I went back to my hut to rest before dinner. The sous prefet (a government-appointed leader of the district) invited me to dine at his house. I had a lovely time with him and his family; his wife is extremely sweet and his children adorable. I went home and slept soundly through night one in my hut!

The next day was the Fete du Ramadan – the big celebration at the end of thirty days of fasting. Everyone was all dressed up and out and about. I spent the day with both my host family and my principal. In the evening we went to a big soccer game in the village, where the announcer presented me multiple times over loudspeaker, which was a little embarrassing.

Site visit was five nights long. It was probably the hardest thing I’ve done so far in Guinea, but I know that all of the difficulties are things that will improve with time. Speaking minimal Malinke is definitely a challenge, since very few people (and essentially no women) are literate thus my communication is limited, which gets a little lonely. I just felt a little bit like a fish out of water for the five days, but once the village gets used to me and I meet more people I’ll feel more at home. My community is small, only about 800 people, so I’ll have the opportunity to get to know essentially all of the families over two years. Incredibly enough, I have cell phone service in my tiny village! Even more incredible is that my village gets electricity for four hours each evening, and they are going to set it up in my hut! Being able to turn on a light and charge my phone are little things that I do not take for granted in this country…

I was fed incessantly during site visit. My principal, host family, and the sous prefet would each feed me for the same meal, so it got to be a bit much by the end, but it was nice to feel cared for! Also, everyone I met told me that I’ll need to change my last name from “Sylla” to “Cissé” once I move there… quite literally everyone from Cissela has the last name Cissé, thus I must adopt it, too. So, call me Mariame Cissé!

My last day in Cissela, Tess, my closest volunteer (18 kilometers away) came to stay with me, since the next day we would travel to Kankan together. Having her there to see my village, meet my host family, eat with the sous prefet, and to just hang out in my backyard listening to music was revitalizing. It also made me realize that I do love my village already and that it’s fun to show other people around. We also discussed ideas to make our huts homier. I have big plans!

We left Cissela on Thursday for Kankan, our regional capital. A group of current volunteers that have already been here for some time arranged a taxi to stop in my town to pick us up on the way to Kankan, which was nice because otherwise I would have been completely clueless as to how to get there! Our two nights in the regional house were lovely. The house is really nice, equipped with a kitchen, big living room with tons of books to be borrowed, bedrooms with bunk beds, bathrooms with running water (first time I’d seen that in eight weeks), and a computer room (internet)! Once I’m a real volunteer, I’ll be able to stay at the house for one weekend a month. It sounds like it’s pretty nice (and necessary) to maintain your sanity. Nearly all of the current volunteers in the region were there for the weekend (around 27 of us including the nine from our group), so we were pretty packed in, but it was a good time. The current volunteers cooked lavish meals for us that we devoured like we hadn’t eaten in decades: pasta with homemade sauce, green beans, garlic bread, French toast, homefries, scrambled eggs… it was heaven. We had a toga dance party on the roof one night, and spent a lot of time relaxing, walking around Kankan, and eating soft serve ICE CREAM… the flavor is a little odd, but I’m not complaining. I had it three times in two days.

On Saturday the nine Haute trainees headed back to Dubreka. I wish I could explain what the journey was like, but I don’t think words would do it justice. I’ll leave it at this: we left at 5:30AM and got to Dubreka at 9:30PM. The roads are bumpy, we were crowded and sleep deprived, and we hardly stopped for food save for some Pringles at a gas station in Mamou. It was… intense, but we certainly bonded a LOT.  And at least we are alive; road travel in Guinea is definitely the most dangerous aspect of my time here.

Arriving back in Dubreka was lovely. I didn’t realize how much it feels like home here until I was away from it. My host family was adorable and so excited when I got back. It’s been great to see the other trainees and hear all about their crazy and diverse experiences during site visit. I’m definitely looking forward to training coming to a close and to beginning my actual Peace Corps service, but I imagine leaving Dubreka is going to be pretty difficult.

Three more weeks of real training! This week is practice school, so we finally get to teach real, full classes. I’m so very excited, and I think time is going to go much more quickly! Less than a month til I’m a real Peace Corps Volunteer!

P.S. THANK YOU so much to those who have sent letters and packages. Words cannot express how good it feels to receive them, even if they take forever to get here. And friends… if you haven’t written me yet,  you should :) … my address is posted at the top of this blog!

News!

Site Announcement

Finally came the day we had all been waiting for: site announcements. We spent the week prior in individual interviews with Dioulde, our Program Manager (a.k.a. my future boss after I swear in as a volunteer in September). During the interviews we were able to give preferences for our sites: how large or small the location, proximity to other volunteers, region, etc. It was odd being asked for a preference because throughout the entire Peace Corps application process you are told to not give any preferences for your country and to be as flexible as possible, yet all of a sudden we actually had a say! It was a novel feeling.

The announcements occurred during the last period of the training day. We all gathered under a small pagoda on the Peace Corps compound, where the trainers had drawn a remarkably detailed map of Guinea on the ground in chalk, with green dots representing the future sites for G22. Needless to say we were all very nervous, and of course the trainers decided to build up the suspense even more by making the announcement into a bit of a guessing game. Dioulde wrote little limericks about each of us; when he read them off we had to guess who it was and when we got that right he would finally reveal the site. It was nerve-wracking to say the least.

So… where am I going to live for the next two years? A village called Cissela, Guinea! Does that mean anything to you? Me neither!

But really… I’ve been able to figure some things out about the site. It’s in the Haute region of Guinea, which is the one closest to Mali. They speak Malinke, a language related to Bambara (Mali’s language), which is really exciting for me since I already know some! The town is right near a major road, which is good news since it means that transportation to the regional capital (Kankan) won’t be too bad. I’ll be teaching middle school – a bit of a surprise because our training has been mostly geared toward teaching high school English, but I’ll make it work. In terms of my living arrangement, I’m not really sure. The paperwork I got seemed to say that I’d be living in a one-room hut (not a problem for me since that’s what I was expecting). One of the biggest perks of my site is that I have two volunteers pretty close to me – one 18 kilometers and one 24 kilometers away – not too bad considering I have a mountain bike! One is in my group and the other in G21, so she’s been here since November. The G21-er, Stacy, is super awesome and sent me a package filled with goodies as a welcome gift!

It’s definitely nice to know where I’ll be living for the next two years but the announcement was also a little bittersweet since it finally dawned on our group how far we will be from each other. Peace Corps is a weird set-up since you spend so much condensed time with your training class and then all of a sudden, eleven weeks in, you’re dispersed throughout the country, really far from some of your closest friends. I guess we’ll cross that bridge when we get there. The good news is that I finally get to start local language classes!

Climbing “le Chien qui Fume”

Last weekend a group of us decided once and for all to climb to the top of the mountain overlooking Dubreka, “le Chien qui Fume,” or “the Smoking Dog.” One volunteer had three host brothers who had climbed the mountain before and were willing to guide us to the top, which was really great because there is no way we could have done it without them.

The day began slowly, as things always do in Guinea – we had planned to meet at 7AM to head to the mountain, but in reality it wasn’t until around 8:30 that we piled into the taxi to take us to the base of the mountain. We were eight total who decided to brave the hike, including our three Guinean guides.

Well, little did we know that the hike is typically done in the dry season, not in the height of the rainy season (aka now). The base of the trail was completely blocked by a not-so-small river with quite a current. Needless to say we were all disappointed by the idea that we couldn’t even make it to the trailhead let alone to the top of the mountain, but our guides weren’t going to let that happen. Over the next hour, they found a part of the river that was slightly shallower, and rigged a giant branch across it. With the branch we were able to tug-of-war ourselves across as we waded through. Probably not the safest thing, and a little scary (the water was waist-deep for me), but we all made it unharmed! So, 10:30 rolled around and we were finally at the base of the trail. The hike was incredibly beautiful. It began fairly steep, through some rice fields. Pretty far up we found a family of rice farmers’ encampment. Everything was incredibly green and overgrown; at some points we didn’t even know if we were following the trail except for the occasional litter we could find, like our own Hansel and Gretel. As we reached a certain altitude we were completely in the clouds, which is a really weird feeling when you’re trying to figure out how high you are, much like being in an airplane.

The mountain is shaped a bit like a rectangle, so the summit is long and flat. We reached the top on one side and walked across the summit to the other end since that’s the corner that overlooks the town of Dubreka. When we got there, we sat down to rest and have some snacks (although not our guides, who are fasting for Ramadan, which makes their strength even more unbelievable). We were still in the clouds and couldn’t see the view, which was a bit of a disappointment, but all of a sudden there was a break in the clouds and you could immediately see everything. It was amazing, not to mention a little chilly, which is a rarity here! We stayed at the summit for some time before heading down. The descent went smoothly, as did re-traversing the river. Unfortunately, we couldn’t get a taxi at the base of the mountain so we had to walk another thirty minutes to the market, but it wasn’t too bad. Overall it was such a great day!

...Those are all of the updates I have time for now. Training keeps on keeping on. The days are long and exhausting, but practice school starts soon so I get to actually teach some Guinean students, which is both exciting and terrifying. I'll be visiting my site for a week in 10 days as well so I'll have a better idea of what my future home is like! Updates will come after that. A plus tard!

p.s. for those of you that want to text me via gmail... here is how: http://www.google.com/mobile/sms/mail/

Pictures!

 Waterfall visit

Biking around the rice paddies 

Me looking like a nerd

Beautiful Dubreka

In the Swing

Three weeks have passed in Dubreka, so I’ve finally managed to figure out my daily routine. A normal day here looks a little bit like this:

6:15AM: Wake up!

6:30AM: Shower time. Go to the well, try to ignore my family’s stares as they watch me pull up bidon of water, and take my bucket shower. (I will have biceps of steel soon!) I’ve managed to communicate to my family that all I need for breakfast is bread with butter (or peanut butter if I’m lucky), so I sit on the porch eating that. Sometimes my host father comes and sits with me before he heads to work. Ramadan has started, however, so I try not to eat around my family since they’re fasting everyday; I’ve been wrapping my bread up and take it to the training center to eat before class.

7:15AM To the training center! Three times a week, a group of us have been practicing yoga and meditation before school – a great way to start the day. One trainee, Geoff, is Buddhist so he leads the meditations.

8M: TRAINING!

Fortunately I live right behind the training center so my commute is about three minutes walking. (During this three minute walk I used to hear children shouting “foté,” or white person, a bunch. Now, they all know my Guinean name, so I hear shouts of “Mariam! Mariam!”)

So… what do I do at the training center all day?

Classes are either 2 hours or an hour and a half. The biggest emphasis is on language learning. Many trainees came in with very little French and we’re expected to test into an “Intermediate High” level by the end of the eleven weeks, so it is very intensive. French is really important for us as teachers, since it is the language of the schools. For this reason, our training is three weeks longer than it is for extension volunteers (public health, agroforestry, and community/economic development). I’ve tested into the advanced French level, so this much language class is a bit tedious. Right now my biggest issue with French is my vocabulary, so I’ve been reading French novels to try to expand upon that. Class usually consists of conversation topics, games, and story writing. It’s okay, there’s just a LOT of it, and sometimes I feel like I’m getting worse.

Another big component of training has been technical training, i.e., how to teach English in a Guinean high school. Some sessions have been really helpful, others not so much. Ousmane, our training coordinator, has been really receptive to our feedback for the TEFL training. Guinea currently has only one TEFL volunteer so the training program isn’t as fine tuned as the other subjects (math, chemistry, and physics). Topics for these sessions range from learning about the Guinean educational hierarchy to how to effectively teach grammar lessons. I’m definitely nervous about being ready to teach when the time comes, but the last three weeks of training are practice school, so I’ll have an opportunity to try it out before being placed into my community. Technical training has also become significantly better this past week, since Kelsey, the one current TEFL volunteer in country, came to Dubreka to help us out. Since her arrival, she’s been running the technical training sessions, and they have been incredibly informative/helpful.

Once or twice a week, we have cross-cultural training. These classes have topics like family roles, religion and taboos, and styles of communication, among others. I’ve enjoyed these classes; they’re generally very interactive and are very applicable, especially since we live in homestay families.

The last major piece of training is focused on health. Peace Corps Guinea has two doctors that are on call for volunteers, which is an excellent (and important) resource. One of these doctors comes in to lead classes on diarrhea (yes, two hours on the topic), food preparation, malaria, and others. They include broad overviews of the illnesses (such as the life cycle of the malarial parasite) and also how we can self diagnose many of them, or what to do if we think we’re sick. We’ve each been provided with a medical kit that is FULL of goodies, so I think I’m in good hands. The doctor that gives these presentations is EXTREMELY (sometimes annoyingly) energetic; he has joyfully proclaimed us “the D.F.G” (diarrhea-free group) and is making us t-shirts with this acronym. Lovely.

One aspect of training that has been really great and requires mentioning has been the presence of the volunteer trainers. Four current volunteers that have been in Guinea for a year are in Dubreka helping out with training. Their insight and advice has been incredibly helpful. It’s nice to see them and think, “They made it through a year and are happy! I can do this!” They participate a lot in the technical training sessions, giving us advice on working in the Guinean school system, which is kind of terrifying but necessary. I’ve been warned about rampant cheating, uncontrollable classes, and a major lack of resources. It’s daunting, but definitely better to know beforehand rather than being unpleasantly surprised upon arriving at site.

12:30-2PM Lunch. Go to the market to buy sandwiches, avocados, oranges, bananas, etc. Relax, read, hang out.

2-5PM More training. Exhausting!

5PM Sometimes internet, sometimes go drum at a neighbor’s house, sometimes bike ride around the rice paddies, sometimes just hang out at the training center.

6:30PM Return home to spend time with the family.

7:30PM Spicy fishy sauce with rice. Now that it’s Ramadan, I wait for my family to pray and then I break the fast with them by eating out of a communal bowl.

8:30PM Go to my room to study or read, or go on a night walk with another trainee. It is really dark at this point and I’m usually really tired!

9:30 or 10PM Tuck myself into my mosquito net and go to bed!

Weekends have been enjoyable. The first Saturday here, we went to swim in a BEAUTIFUL waterfall about 25K away. A dozen of us chose to bike there, which was amazing. I continue to be blown away by the physical beauty of this country. This past weekend I spent all of Saturday biking around Dubreka. There is a gorgeous bike ride on a dirt road around the rice paddies. The one downside to this is that, since it’s rainy season, I end the ride completely covered head to toe in mud. My host family is always horrified when I come back so dirty.

The weekend before Ramadan, I went out to a bar with my host brother and some other volunteers. Moral of the story: not the most fun. It was probably around 120 degrees in the bar, and it was fun to dance for a bit until it got too hot. The night ended by walking home by flashlight at 2 in the morning through the pouring rain.

Each day that passes seems to go so slowly, but it is weird to me that August is quickly approaching. Our group is getting along really well and we’re all hanging in there, except for one that decided to go home early (very sad for all of us). I think one of the biggest personal challenges I’ll have in Guinea is dealing with my health. I have been VERY lucky thus far (knock on wood) but I know I’m just waiting for my turn to come. It’s almost funny how openly we speak about the intimate details of our health issues here. I guess when you’re here, living in a setting where everyone gets sick, your standards quickly change.

Lastly… SITE. Aside from gossiping and talking about American food (both of which are standard conversation topics for a PCT) one of the most talked about subjects is placements. We’ve patiently waited three weeks, and the day for site announcements has finally arrived. This is a huge milestone: my Peace Corps application process took over a year, and finding out where exactly within Guinea I’ll be placed seems like the final step! It’s a daunting (but exciting) prospect.

This weekend, some other trainees and myself are going to hike up “Le Chien Qui Fume” (“the smoking dog”), a nearby mountain. I’m really looking forward to it!

The next time I write I’ll be posting about my future home for the next two years. Get excited!

P.S.

Friends! I have a cell phone here in Guinea. You can text me FOR FREE from gmail and it is super cheap for me to respond. Any word from home is greatly appreciated. My number is country code 224, number 68 71 57 14. Contact me!

Life in Dubreka

The Family

Meeting and living with in my Guinean host family has got to be one of the most nerve-wracking but fun experiences I’ve had, period. It all began at our “adoption ceremony” which took place last Friday morning in Dubreka. It consisted of some speeches presented by the head of PC Training, Julie (our Country Director), and a representative of the prefecture, among others. We then watched a group of children drumming and singing – it was really quite impressive – until we were pulled up onto the stage to dance. (Those of you that heard about my experiences in Mali know that this is NOT my first time publicly humiliating myself in this fashion.) Finally, they brought the families up one by one and announced what volunteer would be taken away with them, much like a game show. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t terrified.  Fortunately, I was near the beginning: la famille Sylla. Four of my host brothers came to the ceremony to meet me: three small children and one in his 20s. Having the kids around made going back to sit with the family far less stressful and more pleasant. Fortunately, most of the family speaks French.

La famille “Le Bon” Sylla (as we are known) live in a home just next to a large soccer field (much like my host family in Mali!). My own room is separate from the house; it’s essentially a concrete square with 2 beds (one that is broken), a desk, and a chair. Peace Corps has provided me with a water filter that takes up much of the desk space. There is a small window but the room is very, very dark. But it’s my own room with my own space, so I like it!

The rest of the family compound consists of other homes where different members of the family live around a courtyard. There is a well in one corner of the courtyard, and a small room where the cooking is done in another. The latrines (one for showering, one for the bathroom) are behind the kitchen. This compound is connected to another where the rest of the family resides by a doorway, and between the two compounds there are at least 20 people living here, most of them children. I haven’t quite figured out who everyone is yet, but I’ve asked many a question about how people are related and I think I’ve got most of it figured out. Essentially, my host father is the chef de famille, and many of his nieces and nephews live with us as adopted children. My host mother’s younger sister also lives on the compound with her children, as do a couple of close friends (one of whom is a tailor that makes beautiful clothing). I love the kids. Much of my time at home is spent playing with them, and my oldest host brother has already decided that Aliou, a 3-year-old, is my “husband.” I especially enjoy the children as they are patient with my incessant questions about Susu (the language my family uses for conversation).

In terms of amenities, the house does have connection to electricity, but the town of Dubreka is often cut off. In fact, in my 10ish nights here, I have seen the electricity working twice. This means that when the sun goes down at 7PM, I usually retreat to bed shortly thereafter. There is no running water, which is fine. My drinking water comes from the pump that is on every other day (I store it in large jugs in my room), and my water for cleaning comes from the well in our compound. The only major issue with that is that water is HEAVY and I am not the strongest. But alas, I will improve!

My host father is polygamous. My first night here, my siblings told me I would have to wait until the next day to meet him, as he was at his other wife’s house. Last night my host mother talked to me about it. She asked me about polygamy and the United States and we discussed why it isn’t commonplace. I asked her why she and her coepouse (co-wife) don’t all live in the same compound (as I’ve seen in the past), and she explained that living separately was the will of my host father. I did not want to pry, but she did tell me that her co-wife also has two children and that I will go to meet them one day. My host mother’s youngest daughter, Madou, is named after the other wife. It is my understanding that having multiple wives is very expensive and can therefore be seen as some sort of status symbol. I know that my host father works as a director for a company that produces flour. Based on the fact that he has adopted many of his nieces and nephews, I presume that he is well off relative to the rest of his family.

I adore my oldest sister, Mariam (yes, this is also my name given to me by my mother – very confusing). She is 20 and has been great at taking me under her wing. She just took the baccalaureate and is waiting for her scores to see if she can go to university next year (this level of education is already a huge deal for a woman in Guinea). Since it’s the summer, she spends everyday sitting outside selling fried sweet potatoes, looking a bit like a child’s lemonade stand. She tops them with hot sauce and they are delicious!

Speaking of…

The Food

Oh, rice. Sadly, I don’t love rice. I hardly eat it in the states. Here, it is served at every meal (including breakfast). I suppose I will learn to love it.

For breakfast, my family gives me a piece of bread (actually quite delicious baguette) with something on the side. That something on the side differs. My first morning here, it was a giant fish with the eyes still in intact with cold pasta on the side. That did not make me very happy. The next morning, it was a mixture of avocado, potato, tomato, and onion – so good. It’s a bit of a gamble. If I really don’t like it (the giant fish), I take a few bites out of politesse and tell them I’m full.

At school, I go to the market for lunch. My favorite thing is to just eat a full mango. I cannot put into words how delicious these mangoes are. I truly have never tasted anything like it. If I’m hungrier, I’ll buy some baguette and avocado, a bean sandwich, or a hard-boiled egg.  Since it’s usually so hot, a mango is usually all I want. It’s about 15 cents for a huge, juicy mango.

I eat dinner at home. I still haven’t really figured out if or when my family eats dinner (they each just seem to eat when they’re hungry), so I eat on my own but usually sitting with my family. The meal: rice and sauce, always with fish. The fish is actually pretty good; since we’re so close to the coast it’s always quite fresh. The sauce can be made with many things (peanuts, gumbo, tomatoes) but it is always really spicy, which I love. I also think the spice might overpower any really fishy taste…

The Weather

The weather is INSANE here. Right now it’s the rainy season; you can tell when you look around. Everything is so green and beautiful. I have never witnessed rains as strong as here, even in Minnesota. Last night we had an incredible downpour for four hours. Since the roofs here are tin, it’s particularly loud. It can be kind of startling when it wakes me up at night, but usually I find the noise to be soothing. During one of our first nights in Conakry, we had our first really big rainstorm. Some of us went up onto the roof and stood under a shelter to watch it. It was unreal.

I think that’s all I’ll include in this post – sorry it got so long. I’ll definitely post about what I actually do all day every day at the training center soon. A bientot!