Eating Breakfast with the 7.5-Fingered Enemy.

So things aren't always what they seem.

Back when I was still "in training" I came here to visit Mamou, and my last night of a week-long stay I was with a group of friends. We had just finished finding dinner somewhere and were search of a cold beer. That being nearly impossible on two fronts. The COLD part, considering we're in Africa with electricity so infrequent refridgerators are a scarcity, and the BEER part, considering I live in a superficially strict Muslim culture (I've since found out that shanningans are shanningans, no matter how conservative you try to front). Anyways, on the way to my house we saw this shack ... it's about the size of a garage and the walls are round sticks of wood assembled so that you can peer through them. There was a dim light on inside. Looked sketchy. Had we just found the bar? Feeling confident in our numbers ... we were 6 ... we braved the awkwardness of rolling into a new joint, completely and utterly foreign. We go in, murmmer a few salutations, and unsure of what to do next, sit down. A guy comes up to us and asks us what we want. Afraid to straight up order a beer, in case its not a bar, we ask what they have to drink. The reply is "orange soda, coca cola, and water." Disappointed, we order sodas. Laughing and defeated that we failed for another time in trying to figure this darned place out. As we're drinking our sodas, which might I add are cold, we hear a bleeting from the dark corner of the shack. And then we realize the stench of manure. Oh yes, this was a combo restaurant/barn. The owner keeps his sheep in his 'restaurant' at night. Health inspection USA would have a field day. We're in shock at the absurdity of the whole situation ... a sketchy bar, no alcohol, orange sodas and livestock. We're reduced to admitting how confusing this whole thing is.

But fast foward now two months, to a few weeks ago.

I was walking by the shack which I hadn't braved since that one absurd night. The guy shouts out "Kiki Barry!" I say hello back. And then I realize that he's sawing some wood. Is this maniac also a carpenter? I need a carpenter. I should add here that finding a good carpenter is near impossible. (You commission carpenters to come over and make you want you want, to order. There are no IKEAs or furniture stores here to buy ready-made goods). I had one carpenter come over to install a simple screen door, but after demolishing my cement walls, flooding my family room with wood shavings as he tried to "resize" the door on my coffee table, coming back after stealing money with paint the wrong color inside an empty coke can and using a PLASTIC BAG INSTEAD OF A PAINTBRUSH to repaint the walls the guy knocked out, I'd had enough. I'd rather keep my clothes in their suitcases than deal with another nightmare. But seeing my sketchy non-bartender man sawing that wood out there, I was filled with a strange sense of hope and optimism. So I go over, we talk, shake hands (I realize that on his right hand he's got a thumb and 4 half-fingers. Maybe he's not as skilled as I'd hoped?) and I learn that in addtion to making spaghetti, selling unpasturized yogurt, offering phone cards, hosting football-viewing parties and of course, boarding livestock, this bro also is a carpenter. Score. I tell him I've got some work for him and I'd like him to come over to the house to show him my drawings/dimensions for a bar-height table and a dresser. He says he'll be over in 20 minutes.

Three days later this bro shows up. I was serving breakfast to a friend and PC staff person, so what's a 4th person? I invited the enemy for breakfast. I felt sneaky. Befriend the carpenter- the one man who is sure to make your life a living hell and overcharge you way to much money just because you're white. I sat him down, poured him a cup of coffee and a gave him some baguette and we talked about the family. Eventually the PC person/friend left and me and carpenter got down to business. We share the same last name, Barry, automatically making us family. Whether or not we settled on a good price, I have no idea. But what I do know is that this guy is a genuinely nice guy. I like him a lot. I stop by the sketchy bar now from time to time just to say hi and shoot the breeze. And he works a TON, as evidenced by his broad array of offerings.

Last night after a rough week and an especially rough volleyball practice I was hungry and thought I'd stop by the sketchy bar shack to see if there was food tonight. I'm still intimidated going somewhere new, becuase you really never know what to expect. But I saw my friend and he told me for dinner I had my choice of peas (yes, just peas), spaghetti, or an egg sandwich. Egg sandwich?! I effing thought it was Christmas. I sat down, watched the football game on TV, took in the scent of sheep feces reminding me of home, and ate the best egg sandwich in Mamou made by a guy missing half his fingers. He even appeared a few moments later and gave me a free baggie of water (Guinea being the only place I know of to sell peanuts in plastic bottles and water in plastic bags). And then I realized that this guy was still working outside, at 9pm at night with no lighting except the full moon, on my furniture. And now I'm even more sure I like this guy. He works harder than anyone I've met so far in a diverse array of activities, and is giving. I felt bad that with the free water, he ended up loosing money on me. But then I looked at the furniture he was making for me, realized I probably am paying way too much, and ate my meal without worrying about a thing.