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.

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!