Villages and Brothels (only kind of)

So yesterday I actually did a little bit of "work" here. (Although to be clear, everything is work here ... amplified to the power of ten. You want a cup of tea? Okay, go to the well, pull up some water, filter it, bleach it, light your gas stove and boil it and make the drink. Now that you've drank it, go back to the well, pull some more water and do your dishes before mice and ants attack.)

But yesterday morning I went into the office and got told I was being sent "au village" to help collect some loans that had been given out a few months ago. I love going out to the villages, because it reminds me that I am lucky to live in Mamou, and hella luckier to call America home. So I climb in the Land Rover with 2 other ladies from work and our chauffer, and we start the 40 minute drive towards some town of which I can neither say nor spell the name. Not even our chauffer knows how to find this far-out place, but no worries. We just pull over and ask people and ... this is the good part ... they say "it's over there" and throw out a pointed finger in any which direction. But what's funny is, our chauffer doesn't ask any further questions. He simply thanks the man, continues driver in the direction of "over there" until he feels like asking the next man. It's like that everywhere. Even when creepers in town ask me where I live, I can just easily say "I live over there" and they accept that as a full and compete response. Anyways, after asking a few guys on the road where the village is, we turn off the main road and drive a ways on the dirt road and figured we found the village when we saw the cluster of huts. Right on. So we get out of the car and find a building where we will be meeting the women ... it's a one room cement school, literally in the middle of nowhere. We waited about an hour until the first lady came ... and to summon the other ladies she grabs this pot and starts banging on it with a spoon. I think she's whack. But sure enough, within another hour, ladies with babies tied on their backs and bowls of rice on their heads start showing up. Finally our meeting commences, and these ladies were awesome- all of them paid back what was due (half of the principal of the loan). There was even one lady who didn't realize she only had to pay half back, and she paid back 90% of her loan. Of course, that caused some problems because she was "showing off" I guess ... a cat fight among toothless women armed with drooling babies broke out, but it got resolved quickly. But these women who live in these villages ... it's really something else. The school there only educates the young ones, so if you want to continue your studies, and if your family can afford it, you have to move elsewhere, like Mamou, to go to school. So it's awful, because everyone who IS in the village is virtually uneducated. I have NO clue what the men are doing, besides drinking tea all day... and the women just work. Getting these people into school seems to be the answer for ANY hope of a normal life over here. It's sad... because it's not easy. Especially when these young girls are popping out babies left and right. They say this is a conservative Muslim culture ... but it's no different than back home. It's just "undercover." My friends will be like "no, Kiki, I don't drink" but then when they find out that I'm cool with it, will bring out two bottles of wine that they hid in my bushes in my front yard, in hopes that I would drink with them. Hilarious.

Anyways after a few hours we had collected the money but now have to count it. In Guinea they have the equivalent of a $1, $5 and $10 bill. No higher than $10. So imagine counting out a couple Gs in $10 bills. It's a joke, really, with piles of money in front of you so high they keep falling over or spilling out of your purse ... but is hardly worth a hundred bucks. So we count the money and thank the ladies and tell them we'll be back to collect the remaining principal in a month. The whole ordeal took entirely too long by American standards, and everyone is really good at wasting everyone's time ... but it's just like that here. You have a job that should take 1 hour, well great ... but plan for 3. Even when I want to walk to the market that's 5 minutes from my house, it will take 20 minutes to get there. You have to stop and say hi to everyone ... and touch adorable little kids who run down the mountain screaming at the top of their lungs "Kiki! Kiki!" and in turn, summoning all the kids from the bottom of the mountain, so that I get attacked by 50 at the same time. Sometimes it's cute. Othertimes I want to drop kick them down the nearest well ... especially the ones with snot alllllll over the face.

But my day "au village" was good yesterday. Afterwards I attended a "dinner party" hosted by a French couple here. They constructed a brick oven in their backyard and we had pizza. A bunch of my Lebanese friends came with their hookahs, we were celebrating an Italian's last night here, a Guinean girl came as well as this Tunisian guy. It's funny, my life here. My friend and I are always joking that "I don't know what I'm doing in Guinea, but it's not Peace Corps" the way I always seem to be running around with various people and am never isolated and alone ... which are the 2 things most PCVs fear. So, I guess I'm lucky ... although I get overwhelmed by too many people quite often. Volunteers are at my door a few times a week as they're passing through the country since Mamou is the "intersection of Guinea" and then I've made a lot of Guinean friends who like to just "show up" at my house. I got pretty annoyed the other night when my 2 girlfriends were at my house the other night. I had bought something small for dinner and was starving after practice when Aisatou and Aisatou showed up. Of course ... I can't eat in front of them without offering them food, and like the true Guineans that they are, they both accepted. So we're eating my dinner that gets devoured before I can even taste it ... and I'm exhausted and still haven't showered. They tell me go ahead, go shower. Fine, I can't entertain guests 24/7 so I leave them in my family room and go take care of my candle-lit, incense-lit bucket bath. All of a sudden, I hear a guys voice in my house. I get out of my shower (again, shower is a term used verrry loosely. should I say bucket?) to find Bekaye, the bf of Aisatou at my house. It's like 9pm, too late for him to be at her house in this "conservative" culture. So what was that?! Did she come over to my house, just to invite him here to hang out? I was pretty ticked ... for the first time I felt used. Fortunately my friend Mohamed was on his way to pick me up to bring me back to his house, so they didn't last long. But still ... like I said, there is always someone at my house.

I don't have any crazy exciting news to tell as of now ... but life is fun and good. I've got good friends around me all the time, even when it's too much of the time. Work is fun. It's starting to move into the rainy season, which makes this place absolutely beautiful. This weekend I've got 3 really good friends coming over, so I'm really excited! It will be a time to hibernate a little inside the house (read: vacation from being a celebrity, it's no exaggeration) and we'll make some good food and hang out. Last time Nick and I made burritos ... including our own beans, own salsa, own tortillas and even our own cheese. Corinna and I made our own Reeses peanut butter cup the other night. We're pretty skilled over here ... rice 3x a day drives your determination and perserverence to new levels.

Love you all. Thanks for all the letters/packages/emails/fb messages and such ... and for not forgetting about me over here. Talk to you soon !