The Day the White Person Worked in the Market

I'm here in Mamou! And it is as wonderful as I'd remembered. I love my new house, the organization with which I work, and most importantly, the people. Everything is going well, the biggest problem is the fact that I can't communicate with most of the people here, seeing that they speak a language called Pular. It's a pretty popular language in West Africa, but it's also one of the more difficult to learn. But, every morning I wake up around 8am, make some (not so delicious) instant coffee, and study this shoddy Pular book, drink my coffee, and look out my mountains. It's not half bad. Except there is a well right outside my front door and all the neighbor ladies like to peer into my house and ask me for me bread. Get your own bread, fools! They think I'm like all the other white people (by all the other white people, I mean, maybe the other 2 who I've seen around this "large city") and white people in this country are known to be earning Western salaries ... meaning dollars or euros ... living in the safe confines of their guarded home and driving around in armored cars. So when they see me living on a regular neighborhood street with petty change and talking their language, they get pretty confused. Just today I said hi (in Pular) to this girl and she said hi back ... and then when she realized what had just happened she litteraly stopped, squealed an "EHH!?!" and said "you, a white person, speaks Pular?" I just had to laugh, I told her I am learning, and continued on my way.

So the best night I've had so far in Mamou was two nights ago. You see, 3 days ago I was in the market, which causes a scene in and of itself. A white person has come to buy one tomato? Why doesn't she have her cook get it for her? Wait ... she's asking how much does a tomato cost in Pular? Wait ... she's wearing African clothes and jewelry? WHAT IS GOING ON?! So I'm buying my tomato, eggplant and rice and this woman I'm buying from, in a combo of Pular and broken French asks me why I'm buying this food. Obviously, I'm cooking. "For who?" "Myself." "You eat alone?" "Yes, I eat and live alone. I have no husband, I have no children." (those would be her next questions, so I spared her the effort.) So she tells me to come back the next day at 5pm.

I am new in town. I have no plans ... the next day at 5pm I head over, secretly hoping she'll feed me. So I get there and she's ecstatic to see me. She and all the other market ladies start squealing and laughing and having fun. My new friend starts to pack up for the day and I tell her that I want to help her pack up for the night. Wow ... I can say for a fact that they never, in their wildest dreams, EVER thought they'd see a white person working at the market. I had about 10 ladies coming over screaming in delight that a white person was working. The lady I was helping, my new friend, was beaming with this sort of pride that I was "hers" and I was equally happy, trying to break down this stereotype that I'm some rich kid who doesn't want anything to do with her and her people. I'm pretty sure it worked. The next day I went back just to say hi to her, and EVERYONE knew me, Kiki Barry. O man, it took me 30 minutes to walk from one end of this small place to the other, because everyone wanted to talk to me. Ask me how I was doing. How was my family? And my kids? O, no kids? Well then, how is your husband? O!!! NO HUSBAND?! We will find you a husband!! And just like that ... I've become a small scale celebrity in the market of Mamou. It's pretty fun actually, and more-so fun that I've become a celebrity not because I'm the rich white person (which probably would've happened by next week anyways) but instead because I'm Fatumatah's friend, and helped her close up the market one day. And yes, I did end up getting a nice dinner out of it. A very nice one, consisting of tomatoes and onions, coffee, and a Coke. That's pretty snazzy by Guinean standards. And then after Fatumatah and I ate, I met her kids, then we walked up the hill to meet her husbands family, and then went to meet her extended family. So I met at least 70 people in her family, because there were about 50 kids. So that's another 70 people I know in Mamou. Not too bad for week one, eh?

So yes, that's the latest update. My house is coming along nicely, but it's hard keeping my tile floors clean ... I'm not quite sure yet how to keep it all from getting muddy. I made some cute curtains and a matching bulletin board, all this teal paisley pattern accented with pink ribbons. One of these days I'll get pictures posted. Miss and love you all.

Bisous,

Kiki Barry
(note: Barry is a popular last name here, and people fall over laughing when I tell them my last name. Especially the old men. A white girl? Named Barry? EEE Allah!! I have quite the ability to crack people up over here ... they laugh at everything. I love it, these are my kind of people.)