Round 2

Rainy season again. Ramadan again. A new training class has come in to start their 11-week pre-service training. I guess that means I’ve been here for over a year. Part of me feels like it’s only been a few months, while another part of me feels like it’s been years. I guess that’s natural; some weeks go so slowly I can’t believe it, while other weeks feel like a day. It’s certainly a feeling of accomplishment (I’m halfway there!) but doing it all over again is a daunting (yet exciting) prospect. Thinking about all of the things, both good and bad, that have happened to me this year, and the giant question mark that this year brings actually puts butterflies in my stomach. G-20, the group that helped train my stage, is finally headed home after their 27 months of service. It’s sad to see them go, but I’m happy for them – it is relieving to see them actually finish up! (Guinea hasn’t had a group complete their 27 months in years and years, with all of the interruptions and evacuations that have occurred.)

In any case, summer is flying by. I had an incredibly rejuvenating trip to France; I spent time in Paris, Toulouse, hopped over to Barcelona for a few nights, and just felt generally spoiled by all of the food and beauty. I was a bit nervous coming back to Guinea (at that point another year seemed more daunting than exciting) but things have been much better than I could have hoped for. It’s amazing how comfortable I am in Guinea now, and how much it does feel like home. I flew back into Conakry, only to find that my luggage had been lost (of course), so I had to wait a few days and come back to the airport to look for it (no delivery service here). To my relief my bags made it, and I ended up spending 20 minutes talking to the security officer there. He was from a village neighboring Cissela; he was so incredibly excited that I knew his home that he proceeded to call all of his family and tell them to protect and watch out for me. They knew who I was having seen me riding my bike. Small world, small country; it was good to be back.

I came straight to Dubreka, the city where PC Guinea trains its volunteers, to spend a few weeks working as a volunteer trainer; in other words, to help out with getting the new stagiaires accustomed to living in Guinea. It was great to be back in Dubreka. I lived in a house with several of the other volunteer trainers, got to catch up with the Guinean trainers that I adore, and I worked on my Malinke with a language trainer. I was able to do many of the things I did last year doing training without realizing how lucky I was: eat salads everyday, bike to the waterfall, visit my host family…

The new stage is great. They are much smaller than my group (only 17, whereas mine was 27) but they have an awesome outlook on things. Honestly, it’s been nice to be around such optimism and it helps to reaffirm why I am here. Being halfway through has definitely led me to question my effectiveness and rational for being here at all. In addition to being a trainer, I’m also a semi-trainee, as I’ve been sitting in on the technical sessions for the math teachers. Next year I’ll be dropping English and teaching math and biology.  I’m looking forward to it, especially because my school doesn’t have a math teacher and it’s a huge component of the national exam.

Speaking of national exams: we got the results for the high school entrance exam! My school succeeded the most of any school in my prefecture, with around 50 percent passing (I think the national average is about 20). So, while I’ll still have half of the same 10^th graders that I had last year, I’m really happy for the 16 that will be moving on to high school.

After about six weeks away from site, I finally went back. I was only there for a few days but it felt wonderful to be there. My hut was completely swarmed by children upon my arrival. I visited all of my neighbors, gave gifts to my host family and friends, cleaned out the school’s direction (where the offices are), met up with a young woman teacher from the primary school I hope to have work with my girl’s club this year, and relaxed. The village looks beautiful and green during the rainy season, although my backyard was truly a jungle that some of my 8^th grade boys had to come over and help me fix up.

After not even a week at site, I left again (boohoo) for the regional capital, where I met up with the new stagiaires after their site visit. We cooked great food, I helped show them around the city, and we threw our annual toga party.  Now I’m back in Dubreka to continue math training. I will be here for a few more weeks; I’m hoping to be back in village by the start of September. That way, I can have a month at site to work on projects, lesson plan, and study Malinke before the school year starts. Then, I’ll be ready to do another year all over again. Only better the second time around.

School is OUT

Well it’s been a while, I know. I’m sorry. The past few months have been crazy BUT I am happy to report that I survived year one of school!

Where to begin?

At the end of April, I had a nice treat: Jessie, one of my friends from study abroad in Mali, came to visit. I went to Conakry to pick her up at the airport, which was interesting as it was my first time since swearing in last September. Our trips to Conakry are very regulated now because of unrest surrounding the upcoming elections (more on that later), so getting in was a bit of a maze. To avoid a major artery in the city that can be “hot,” I had to wind through taking three separate taxis and kind of guessing where I was supposed to get out of each one. Taxis in Conakry are the major mode of transportation; they are not, however, what you’d picture when I say “taxi.” Each takes its own fixed route, picking up passengers along the way and dropping them off when they ask, kind of like a bus. And, in true Guinean fashion, passengers are nice and cozy inside: two sharing the passenger seat, and four in the back. Fortunately, over the past 11 or so months I’ve gotten really good at asking Guineans for help, so many helped me find my way to the Peace Corps office.

In any case, Jessie arrived; we spent a day in Conakry exchanging money and relaxing, and then headed to my village. I kind of forgot just how awful traveling in Guinea is as I’ve become numb to it, so I felt pretty bad putting Jessie through a tortuous 12 hour bush taxi ride on horrible roads, but arriving to my hut and falling asleep under the stars (sleeping outside due to hot season) made it worth it. Jessie spent a week in Cissela. She came to school with me everyday, which was fun for me and for my students and the other teachers were thrilled, announcing her presence at the raising of the flag with such pride. She came with me for all of my daily duties, collecting water at the pump, going to Banko (a neighboring village) for market day, and meeting with my girl’s club. My host family (especially the petits) is still asking about Jessie everyday, saying, “When will she come back?” All in all, she definitely fit in very well.

The one low part of her visit was when Mariame, one of my 10^th grade students, passed away, which was certainly not easy. She’d been sick for some time and had missed the past several months of school, but I was still shocked and upset. Jessie accompanied me to the funeral, wearing a borrowed headscarf from my host family, and she got to hear the utterly heart-wrenching screams coming from the mourning mother’s mouth. Once one person starts to cry, others begin, and there’s no shame in it at all: they are wailing. Not an easy sound to hear. Mariame’s body arrived in a taxi from Kouroussa, a town 90k away where she’d been sent to the hospital the night before, and several of my male students carried her out on a board covered by a sheet. She was buried in Cissela’s cemetery, on a road out of town. The next day, our entire school went to the mourning family’s house to pay our respects, sitting on benches within their circle of huts. A number of people gave speeches in Malinke: our assistant principal, the village chief (my host father), and the village doyen. We collected money from the students to help the family pay for the funeral costs, which can be really expensive. (For example, the family had to pay for a taxi to drive her body back to Cissela. No hearses in Guinea.) My principal and the other teachers are heartbroken. Although sickness and death are certainly more commonplace here than in the U.S., they did not take the death of a student lightly. Just a few weeks ago I was with my principal in his office; we came across Mariame’s file and he began to cry. There were three I.D. photos of her inside, and he said we must give them to her family because pictures are so rare here and they’d need a way to remember her.

In any case, Jessie was there for all of this, which was certainly a cross-cultural experience for her (and for me, of course). After her week in Cissela, she bid farewell to my village and we headed to Dalaba, a city in the mountains. It happened to be my birthday and it was really lovely – we spent the day with several other volunteers eating ice cream, playing mini golf on a very old and crumbling course built by some French folk, and going out to a few bars in the evening. The next day, we headed to Doucki where I’d spent spring break. We did the K.A.H. (kick ass hike) yet again, which was equally as exhausting but also as beautiful the second time around. I think Jessie especially liked the guide, Hassan; he may just be the most eccentric Guinean I’ve met. After Doucki, we went back to Conakry and I bid Jessie farewell. Taking her to the airport was weird, she was about to head to Germany and all I wanted to do was jump into her suitcase and go eat cheese and drink beer and be in Europe for a little. But my time will come.

I finally made it back to my site and swore I would avoid traveling for several weeks; two Conakry trips in one month equals 48+ hours in a car. That week back was my last week of classes. (Well, it wasn’t supposed to be but they moved the national exams to 2 weeks earlier due to elections at the end of June, so we had to quickly finish everything up.) The finale was a bit of a rush with no closure, since both the students and the teachers were surprised that everything ended so quickly.

The following week was the beginning of national exams.  In Guinea (much like in France), there are three week-long exams: the entrance exam into collège (middle school) for 6^th graders, the brevet for entrance into lycée (high school) for 10^th graders, and the bac for entrance to university for terminale (final year of high school) students. The first week was the exam for the youngest level. Cissela’s primary school was a testing center for the surrounding six primary schools, so we had an influx of youngsters, several of whom stayed in the living room of my host family’s house. My principal asked that I help out with the three-day test, either as a surveillante (proctor) or with paperwork in the office. When I showed up on the first day, he pulled me aside and told me the delegué, sent from the Ministry of Education to run the exam, decided to not have me proctor, because I was not a “Guinean national” and may have “moral problems” with how they run exams. IN OTHER WORDS, he was saying I’d be too strict with cheating. Well… more on that later, but I said okay and went to the office to help out with all of the paperwork. Really makes you appreciate excel when you have to calculate hundreds of averages and make spreadsheets by hand.

During the moments when work slowed down in the office, I was able to walk around and see what was going on in the classrooms. Honestly, what I saw was really upsetting. I always knew that cheating was a problem in Guinean education, but I did not think it would be like what I saw. I was expecting the proctors to turn a blind eye to students cheating off of other students, but what I saw was proctors writing the answers to every question on the board. For every subject. Everyday. In every room. The first day, I tried to pull my principal aside and tell him what was going on in the rooms, and he said, “Oh, that is really not good.” Yet… he did nothing about it. The problem is just systemic. Even the delegué was in on the charade. The rules for proctors written by the Ministry of Education are clear and what you would expect: they are not allowed to help or explain the questions in any way, they are not to read the answers students are writing, they are not to sit down or stand by the door of the classroom, etc….yet I saw each of these things occur multiple times. Needless to say, I was really upset by the end of the week. I just felt like this system of education is so broken and it’s not going to change anytime soon, because even the people at the top (like the delegué) are closing their eyes to fraud. On our last day, while we were cleaning up, the D.P.E. (the head of education in my prefecture…basically, my principal’s boss) stopped by to check in on the exam to see if had gone well. The moment he saw a Peace Corps volunteer was there, he was upset that I wasn’t a proctor and insisted that I would proctor the brevet the next week. My principal told me that this was a huge honor and that he was so excited on behalf of our school that I’d be working for the exam.

Well, I was very, very worried about this situation. I couldn’t turn down the position because it was such an honor, but I was not about to stand by while such obscene cases of cheating went on in the exam. I told myself that if I saw anything I was really uncomfortable with, I’d walk away and tell them I couldn’t continue proctoring for the rest of the week. The brevet was in Sanguiana, a village about 50k east of Cissela on the route nationale. I was planning on going there even before the proctoring position was offered, because I wanted to accompany my 30 10^th graders for the week. Getting there was… interesting, to say the least. My school teamed up with a neighboring village to charter a giant, American school bus to take us. About 80 people piled in, with three to a seat, people sitting on the aisles, and two on the roof with our luggage. The bus needed to be pushed to get started, which was quite a feat of strength by the men pushing. While the drive is only 30 miles, it took about two hours because the road is awful, and we arrived while the sun was setting.  All of my students and my principal stayed in a big, abandoned house, sleeping on prayer mats on the floor, but fortunately I was able to stay in another volunteer’s hut for the week.

As for the exam. The delegué this time around was young and meant BUSINESS. Let me just say that my faith was restored in the Guinean education system. He was really hard on us proctors, if only because he knew many among us would try to “help” students on problems, or would allow cheating between students. So really, I was allowed to be as strict as I wanted, and it was all falling under the delegué’s wishes. I developed a bit of a reputation amongst the students, who knew that “madame” was very strict and watched me like a hawk to see which room I was assigned to each day, shrieking if they saw me go in their own. It was a bit tricky working with the other proctors, as we were assigned two to a room, and they weren’t very accustomed to my way of working. Of the fifteen proctors, three of us were women, and I was by far the youngest. Regardless, I was happy to be part of an exam that I can say was done, for the most part, legitimately. The other proctors definitely allowed a level of cheating between students (chatting and showing their neighbors answers), but it was certainly an improvement from what I had seen the week before.

Aside from the exam itself, I had a really wonderful time in Sanguiana. I spent my days after the exam at my students’ lodging, helping them study for various subjects, answering hundreds of questions about America, and taking my meals with them. It really made me appreciate them; they are a really sweet and fun group. Every evening at around 10PM a huuuuge group of boys would insist on walking me back to my hut. I’m really sad that (hopefully) most of them will be off to high school next year; the closest high school is 50 miles away but most of them go to Conakry.

Now the school year is officially over. And for the best part: I AM GOING TO FRANCE ON JUNE 25!            My whole family is flying out and we are spending a week in Toulouse, I’ll have some time in Paris, and Ethan and I are taking a bus to Barcelona for a few nights. Also, the political situation in Guinea actually had a turn for the best; the opposition and the president finally made some compromises, but now the elections will probably postponed til the fall. I’m not convinced these elections will ever happen, but for the sake of Guinean democracy let’s hope they do.

I will be eating cheese and drinking wine for my year anniversary with Guinea, and I can’t think of a better way to celebrate!

Spring Breaking

In many ways, Guinean and American middle schoolers really aren’t all that different:

Over the past month, I’ve started my unit on reproduction and sexual health in my 9^th grade biology class, only to be met with nervous giggles, sheepish questions, and painfully embarrassed girls who refuse to answer even the simplest questions.  I’ve met with the girls separately to discuss issues specific to them and passed around an anonymous question box with the whole class.  Sometimes I feel like Mrs. Staples at Wheeler back in the 6^th grade.

Also in my 9^th grade, we’ve started a letter exchange project between my students and Dana Tatlock’s 6^th grade class at The Wheeler School in Providence, RI, my alma mater. It’s been really fun to see the similarities and differences between the students’ letters. Both are incredibly curious and excited to be hearing about another culture from a real student across the world. Upon receiving our first batch of American letters, I had to answer a LOT of cultural questions: What is lacrosse? What is a hamburger? What is snow? What is skiing? Why are American families so small, since here our fathers can have up to 15 kids? Etc, etc, etc. Letters coming from the states had lots of questions for my students about after school activities, favorite foods, amount of homework, and sports. One thing that both batches had in common: knowledge of, and love for, Justin Bieber. All in all, I think it’s been a really fun project on both ends.

The girls club has continued to be a success. We’ve done a few art projects, including one where we brainstormed adjectives to describe women, which sparked some interesting discussions: despite the fact that women here do basically all of the heavy lifting, “strong” was not a word they tended to think of, as they all said it was too masculine. Afterwards, they selected from our list to create a collage of words and images on construction paper, coming together to represent themselves. We are now making beads from paper, which we’ll use to make bracelets and necklaces. So, quick plug: for those of you amazing people that send me packages, good craft projects or other ideas for activities would be greatly appreciated!

I suppose one way in which students in the states and students in Guinea differ is over the matter of vacation: Guinean students simply don’t get excited for it. I think for a lot of my students, going to school is a break from doing house work, so vacation is just a time where they’ll be spending even more time cleaning, cooking, getting water, going “en brousse” to gather wood, going “au champ” to gather straw for making thatch, etc.

Despite their lack of excitement, spring break finally did come! In typical Guinean fashion, the expected one week of break turned into two since people stopped showing up before the break officially started and came back long after the break officially ended. Sigh.

My spring break was a success. I traveled to the Fouta, the mountainous region, for a week of hiking and relaxing in the cooler weather! I started out with a trip hitchhiking to Labe, the regional capital of the Fouta. The car I found was a nice air-conditioned truck, with two ridiculously nice guys working for Orange, the cell phone company. One was from Cote d’Ivoire, and made for a great converser as we wound through the mountains, distracting me from freaking out as we sped around every curve (did I mention there are no guard rails?).

We stopped in Dalaba, a somewhat magical city in the mountains (there is a forest of pine trees!) to pick up my friend Kelsey, who waited for us on the side of the road next to some ladies selling bean sandwiches. Our kindly chauffeurs dropped us off right at the Peace Corps house in Labe, never asking for money until we insisted on pitching in for gas. We spent three nights in Labe, relaxing, watching a disgusting amount of movies, and hanging out with a handful of other volunteers who came to meet us. One night, we cooked enchiladas: YUM. (Granted, the cheese was Laughing Cow, but you take what you can get here.)

After becoming a vegetable in Labe, we traveled to Doucki, a tiny village in the mountains, 50 kilometers from the paved road. Our taxi driver had no idea where we were going, and literally every time we passed a tiny village he stopped the car and asked where Doucki was. This was particularly comical, since the car we were in was almost a tin can, and the front door kept popping open, with poor Kelsey up in the front seat. Hilariously enough, after stopping about a dozen times to ask for directions, we stopped in front of an old man, rolled down the window, and the driver yells in Pulaar (the language of this region), “Excuse me, do you know where um…um…” (turns to Kelsey) “Where are we going again?” Needless to say, we all exploded in frustrated laughter…our cab driver didn’t even know the name of our destination. Despite these minor blips, we finally made it there, to find a wonderful man named Hassan (fluent in French, English, and Spanish) with quite the set-up. We stayed in really adorable huts in his compound, ate meals in a gazebo filled with bamboo furniture and hammocks, and slept under THICK blankets – it was coooold! The main purpose of our trip was to see what this Doucki place was all about, since so many people had told me that it is stunningly beautiful. Well…they were right. Our first day there, we were fed a delicious Guinean meal of corn mush and peanut sauce (yes, it is tasty), and headed off on an afternoon of hiking. It turns out Doucki is on the top of a cliff perched over the largest valley in Guinea, which looks a little bit like the African Grand Canyon. Because of this, all of the hikes start with a descent and end with an ascent, which is the opposite of what my mountain-climbing self is accustomed to! The first day of hiking, we were all just blown away by the scenery. Hassan took us to two separate waterfalls where we could go swimming, had us lie on our stomachs to stick our head over a cliff (sorry Dad), and showed us the hilarious rock formations that he’s named: the pregnant woman, the boat, and my favorite one, our favorite extra terrestrial, ET. We got back from the hike just in time for dinner, ate some rice and sauce, and slept amazingly well.

The next day, we did what Hassan called the K.A.H., or Kick-Ass Hike. Its more official name is “Chutes and Ladders,” because during it you climb up hand-made ladders right next to a waterfall. The hike was a looong day, a full 9 hours, but never had a dull moment: we saw three more waterfalls, ate lunch while little fish ate the dead skin off of our feet (yes, gross), drank lots and lots of spring water (don’t worry, we had iodine), and climbed up nine ladders made of vines on the face of a cliff. The hike started with a loooooong descent into the valley, including one part where we literally climbed down through a rocky, slippery stream, most of which we spent on our butts. We hiked through the valley for a while, enjoying the view of the cliffs and coming quite close to a group of baboons, stopped for lunch at a stream at the base of the cliff, and climbed ladders back up. After the ladders, we climbed and climbed some more, stopping at yet another waterfall to swim, then once we reached the top, worn out and sweaty, we had to cross back over to the base camp. All in all, it was exhausting but wonderful.

The next day, we were all sore but Hassan insisted he’d take us on a nice and easy hike, and he was true to his words. He took us down into these incredible rock formations, where you climb on vines. (Fittingly, he calls this hike the “Indiana Jones.”) It was a gentle but stunning hike, and literally did look like a movie scene.

We made it back to the compound by noon, signed Hassan’s impressive guest book, and headed on out.

One of the many waterfalls we swam in

Ready to rock the KAH

ET rock!

Climbing up ladders

Indiana Jones! Aka, Hassan

I spent two more nights in Labe, and it was a bit of a reunion for our stage since about 16 of us were there. It was fun, but by Sunday I was ready to get back to my village, where I was planning on spending the second week of break.

Getting back to site was, as always, really nice. I was happy to see everyone and give them the expected gift from the Fouta: potatoes. I spent several days relaxing, going on bike rides to neighboring villages, working on my grades for the trimester, studying Malinke, and hanging out with Hawa, my best friend in Cissela. Another volunteer came to visit for a few days, and we made pancakes and ate them with care package maple syrup: YUM.

However, quite unfortunately, I got really sick that week, with all sorts of scary symptoms: chest pains, high fever that wouldn’t go away, and GI issues. Finally, this past Sunday, after being sick for 5 days, the Peace Corps doctor told me to go to Kankan, my regional capital, where I am now. Getting here was not pleasant: I needed to find a way to get the 2K from my hut to the paved road where I hitchhike, meaning a car had to come and get me, which was very embarrassing since cars are nearly never in my village and I had to draw so much attention to myself. I was dizzy and weak and feverish when flagging down cars, but luckily I found one pretty easily, although I don’t even want to remember what it felt like driving on that awful road in the state I was in. BUT: I made it here and once I got here the Peace Corps car drove me around, got me some antibiotics and pain meds, although I still never really found out what was wrong with me I’m finally better today and I’ll be going back to my village tomorrow. Despite how awful traveling was, I think I needed to get out of my village: yes, I love it, but after spending several days in a ridiculously hot one room hut with a high fever, I needed a change of scenery, and although here I continued to sweat and have a high fever, I also had Peace Corps support if I needed it, and running water so I could rinse off whenever I wanted.

So…back to my village tomorrow! This weekend I have lots and lots of activities planned for malaria month, which I’ll write about more in my next post. That’s all for now, thanks for reading!

TARA YE BO LA

Again, I apologize for the long stint with no posts. But I am still here! Just very very very hot. (The meaning of the title of this post is: it's hot.) Yes, it is hot season here in Guinea. Every day it is sweltering, and unfortunately it does not cool down at night, so sleeping has been rough. Two months of this, and then the rains will come, and fortunately mango season is coming in the next few weeks, so there are upsides!

The past few months have gone quite well. Here are some highlights:

Traveling the Fouta

In early February, I traveled to a fellow G22-er, Kelsey’s, village. I hitchhiked my way there (this is how I get around, as it is the only way to get out of my village), which is always an adventure. This time around I was in an air-conditioned car with 4-wheel drive (YES!) filled with Cote d’Ivoirian auditors headed to Conakry. They spoke French that I could hardly understand and were not very knowledgeable about Guinea; they had never heard of Peace Corps and were shocked that I didn’t have internet. When I said I didn’t even have electricity, their jaws dropped.  Regardless, when we arrived in Mamou they refused any money as they knew I was a volunteer, which was nice and has happened now four times in my travels.

Kelsey lives in a village called Ditin, around 30k off of the national highway to Labe on bumpy dirt road over a mountain. The village itself is in a valley, but it’s surrounded by mountains on all sides and therefore the setting is pretty stunning. Ditin is in the Fouta region, where people speak Pulaar, not Malinke. It’s interesting to see and hear not only how different the language is, but also how different the people are. By no means am I an expert on the Malinke, but my short taste of the Pulaar was interesting; they seemed much quieter and perhaps more reserved than the Malinke.

I spent two nights in Ditin. Our full day there, Kelsey and I walked to a giant waterfall about 5 miles from her village. The walk was beautiful, with mountains in the distance and the giant waterfall in sight.

We were covered in sweat by the time that we arrived, so we were thinking that we may want to swim, but the minute we got within fifty feet of the falls we were covered in goose bumps. The water was COLD and it was sending out a constant mist in our faces. It felt pretty amazing; we sat on a patch of grass and napped for a few hours, had a picnic, and relaxed some more until we felt we had enough energy to make the trek back. That night we cooked a delicious squash soup (so jealous that they have squash in her region) and slept unbelievably well.

The next day we left for In Service Training, a weeklong workshop in Mamou, a city in the Fouta. It was a great week; it was the first time in four months that our training group had been together since swearing in four months ago. Throughout the training we covered lots: we spent the first half of the week talking about teaching, sharing common problems and solutions in the classroom, and discussing technical issues that we have teaching English. It was nice (although a little disheartening) to hear that my problems are not at all unique, and my school is no less functional than anyone else’s. I also got to meet with the Malinke teacher to bombard him with the billions of questions that have popped in my head over the past few months, which was great. The second half of the week, we talked about secondary projects that we can do throughout the school year and during the upcoming summer break. It was nice to remember that although we are teachers, we can do more than just that in our communities. Peace Corps told us how we can apply for small grants and how to design and manage a project. We had sessions on life skills (such as HIV/AIDS education), food security, and malaria. All in all, it was a productive week, and seeing the 21 other members of my stage was just what the doctor ordered.

Life in Cissela

Site has been really great lately. Teaching is still teaching, but I feel like I’m finally making some headway in my 10^th grade biology class (I think they finally understand enzymes!) and my 9^th graders have really surprised me with their recent motivation. A few weeks ago we had a “Proclamation des Resultats,” where we read off student rankings for the first trimester of school. About ten parents showed up, which was apparently much higher attendance than the previous year. Before Peace Corps I probably would’ve been against such a public announcement of ranks and comparisons between students, but honestly I think this has been the greatest motivator for my students. If anything, they are competitive, and they want to beat their classmates, so I’ve noticed their work has gotten better since that day.

Somewhat by accident, I’ve started a girls club in my village that seems to be pretty successful (at least in that they actually show up). At this point in 9^th grade biology we’re going over puberty and reproduction. In the class of 25 only 6 are girls, and they’ve all been pretty silent throughout the lessons, so I asked them if they wanted to talk about these topics without the boys. This was met with such an enthusiastic response; I couldn’t help but be surprised. Girls that hardly ever open their mouth responded with an eager “OUI, MADAME!” So that Tuesday, I had the girls over to my hut; we sat in my back yard and I answered all of their questions. As soon as the rest of the girls in the middle school got wind of this, they all asked if they could come over on Tuesday nights, and the rest is history. I think it will be a good forum to begin my secondary projects, which is exciting.

What else happened this month? Well, I attended my first Guinean funeral, which was upsetting to say the least (lots of very loud crying), but it was my best friend in village aunt's that died so I'm happy that I was there. The day after the funeral, the friend (named Maitresse) and I had a really long talk about all sorts of things: family members dying and coping with loss, her struggle with generating an income for her family, her search of a husband and that she doesn't want to get married (so rare here), among other things. Honestly, it was the first time in my five months at site that I really felt like I was connecting with someone on a level deeper than just a superficial friendship, so I kind of think of this conversation as a milestone.

Also, now that it's hot season I never want to cook dinner because by the evening it's about 1021091 degrees in my hut, so I've been cooking with Hawa (in my host family) every night. She now leaves me to make the sauce on my own for the whole family every night, which I'm more than happy to do since they are so generous with me and I love sitting down and eating with them. They really make me feel lucky to be in Cissela.

Unrest in Guinea

The most stressful part of being here over the past few weeks has been the civil unrest in Conakry, the capital, and other major cities throughout the country. It all stems from legislative elections that were supposed to be coming up on May 12th. However, the president did not confirm this date by the deadline (this past Sunday), and this has sparked a lot of violent demonstrations throughout the country, mostly stemming from ethnic tensions between the president's supporters, belonging to one ethnic group, and his opponents, from another ethnic group. The protests got pretty violent this past week, sparking several deaths and many more injuries. Right now, things are a lot calmer, but it's unclear as to what the future holds for Guinea. In the mean time, Peace Corps is revising its EAP (emergency action plan -- basically where we go if we need to consolidate in country or to be evacuated) and we're going to do a drill in the coming month where we'll have to travel to our consolidation points. Regardless of the political situation, this is a good idea, since really anything can happen in a country with such a weak political structure as it is here. So... I'm keeping my fingers crossed, for the sake of Guinea and for my future here.

Okay, I need to stop writing and go fan myself. It is way too hot to function. I'm in Kankan right now for a weekend long "Malaria Training," where we've been learning about how to hold malaria sensitizations and other malaria-focused projects we can do at our sites. The one upside to being here is we've set up our mattresses and mosquito nets on the roof, where it's actually a somewhat bearable temperature. I'm off to drink a gallon of water. FAREWELL!

Madame, PARDON!

Happy six month anniversary, Guinea. Well actually, as I write this, I'm nearly at the seven month mark. But six months sounds like a nicer, rounder number so we'll keep it at that.

Greetings from Kankan! Not going to lie, I really needed my monthly weekend away from Cissela. It's a breath of fresh air to be out of there. Things at site this month were up and down, up and down, up and down. The ups definitely outweigh the downs so I'm still feeling good, but I think my two days away will be rejuvenating.

Coming back from Senegal felt really great. I was so happy to see my host family and give everyone their gifts. Over the past few months, I've gotten much closer with my family. It definitely helps now that my Malinke is getting better, since the only member of the family that speaks French is my host father, and he's never there. I'm finally starting to figure out who is who in the family, which is not an easy task as there are upwards of 25 people. My host father has three wives (polygamy is permitted and really common here). The eldest was actually his brother's wife, but his brother passed away some years back so he "inherited" her (yes, I am very uncomfortable with this and can write more about it later). She has two sons. The second wife, Fanta, lives in the hut next to mine. She has four daughters, including two twins that are in 4th grade. His third and youngest wife, Bintou, has two boys, Mamady and Bakary. But that isn't even the half of our family members! The three women I spend the most time with, Hawa, Bantan, and Diama, are all somehow related to my host father, but I haven't quite figured out how. Perhaps they are nieces? Hawa says she is 22 (I don't believe her -- she looks so much older), and Bantan and Diama are a few years older. Both Hawa and Bantan's husbands live in different cities and they hope to join them soon. Hawa has a one-year-old, Saran, who is maybe the cutest thing ever. Bantan's daughter, Fatoumata, is the child that died in my compound a few months back. She has another daughter that lives in Conakry, the capital, with other family members (it is very common in Guinea to have children live with aunts and uncles, usually for financial reasons). As far as I know, Diama is unmarried and has no kids, which is really rare in Guinea. She's a tailor and the only woman in the family that knows a little French. There are many more people that live in our compound: three men, two women, and a number of kids, but I still can't quite figure out how they figure into the mix. Let's just say that "family" is a very loose term here. When people introduce others as their "big brother" or "little sister," I can't really trust that as I would in the states.

Regardless, I spend a lot of time with my host family. Usually after teaching, I spend a few hours grading and lesson planning, sometimes I bike to my principal's house for lunch, but almost always I cook dinner with Hawa and Bantan, even if I don't end up eating with them. Pretty much 100 percent of the time we are making rice and sauce, and I will say I'm getting very good at it. We cook outside, behind my host father's hut, over fire. Now that I've done it a bunch they let me actually do things like pound the onion and dried fish with the giant mortar and pestle. Baby steps! One night Hawa went to go shower and left me to cook the entire meal for twenty people by myself. I must have looked hilarious, as my students kept walking past and yelling "MADAME!" in shocked voices. I actually end up eating with my host family about twice a week. As much as I don't like the food, sometimes I just don't want to go into my hut, close the door, and cook a meal for one. I eat using my hand with the ladies and kids, out of one giant, communal bowl. Afterwards, we light a fire and sit around talking. Right now it is cold season and it is TRULY cold at night (in the high forties), making it nearly impossible to get out of bed for school in the morning. I do, however, love being bundled up, and I'm dreading hot season which is coming in a few weeks... Anyway, I'd say Hawa is the reason my Malinke is getting anywhere. I did manage to find a real Malinke teacher who I adore, but speaking is always a little intimidating. Hawa grabs me a stool, sits next to me, and makes me talk, talk, talk. It's great now that we can actually have conversations, even if I do sound like a toddler.

January 15th was Tess' birthday, so after class I biked to her village to spend the day there. We cooked an incredibly lavish meal, fajitas with homemade tortillas, which we couldn't believe we were able to make in a HUT! Unfortunately on the way back I had a pretty nasty fall off of my bike due to a plethora of cows on the road. I was very beat up but fortunately a lady was there walking back to her village and she cleaned off all of the blood. The downside is that Guinea is maybe the dirtiest country ever so despite my greatest efforts the deepest cut on my leg still got infected and I got a very high fever one night, but I promptly started antibiotics the next day and I'm still on the mend. Also I still managed to not miss a day of school, although I did bleed through my clothes for a few days there. The following weekend, a bunch of volunteers came to my village to stay in the fancy shmancy hotel that is up at the paved road for a little birthday celebration. It is a weirdly nice place owned by a man from Benin, but we certainly enjoyed ourselves, and everyone in my village officially thinks I'm the weirdest person ever for paying to stay there when my hut was only 2k away. To be fair, the rooms were about $2 per person.

So I'd say right now I'm living two lives in my village: the life where I go to school and it's not particularly pleasant, and the life after school that is wonderful. School has certainly gotten easier than it was at the beginning of the year, but it's still a hurdle. Fortunately, my second round of tests in nearly all of my classes was met with much a higher success rate than the first round, which was encouraging to say the least. I've been particularly happy with the 10th grade, where I see students who originally seemed unmotivated getting their act together. Also, we finally got a math teacher last week! Thank the lord. Biology has been a struggle. First of all, as I mentioned before, the students' level of French leaves something to be desired, so it's really tough to teach them when they don't understand every other word that comes out of my mouth. I am struggling to come up with creative ways to present the information and keep the students going or simple experiments we can do with the few materials I have. This past week was perhaps the worst couple of days I've had at school. My principal has been out of town, so it's just been us teachers, meaning I'm the only one that shows up on time. On Tuesday I had my 8th grade Biology class. 8th grade has always been the most troublesome in terms of behavior, but I've managed to keep them under control. However, on Tuesday they completely lost it, ending with a physical fight in class. I ran out to find another teacher to help me break it up, but the school was deserted... all of the other teachers had gone home early. When I came back into the 8th grade, it was like they remembered I existed and they all went silent. I told them that until things changed, I would no longer teach 8th grade. They all flipped out and asked for me to forgive them (screaming PARDON! PARDON!), but unfortunately I know those apologies are empty for most of the students. Well, long story short the next day the 8th graders that acted out had to bring in their parents to talk to the Directeur des Etudes (basically assistant principal), ending in a giant, school-wide apology to me. I think that we were all a little embarrassed: me, for letting my class get so out of hand, and the school, for the behavior of the students. We'll see how things go next week.

I don't want you to think that school is a horrible disaster everyday, but I just don't want to sanitize my blog posts. Honestly, I do love my students and most days I end up having fun in the classroom, but this week really pushed me to the limit. I did have some really fun lessons, including a giant scavenger hunt in my 9th grade English class (jolly ranchers were the prize at the end) and an experiment we did in Biology locating our taste buds using coffee, limes, sugar water, and salt water. There are definitely days that I leave school feeling jazzed up and optimistic. My principal is such a good guy, and he really pours his heart into the school, so it's encouraging to see someone that is so optimistic about education.

Christmas came late this month, too: I got FIVE packages. A bajillion thanks to those who have sent me love from America. I truly did have a Christmas celebration in my hut, thanks to the Santa hat Molly sent!

As a postscript, I'll just mention some sad news: nearly a fifth of our training group has gone back to the states, both for personal and health reasons. It is really sad for all of us, since we did get so close during training. In a few weeks we have our In Service Training (IST), so those of us that remain will be reunited to share stories and ideas for teaching. I'm very much looking forward to seeing so many people that I haven't seen in four months! To those that went home, we'll be missing you. Eat a burrito for me.

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.