Bike Rides and Hannah Montana Bubble-pens

A lot has happened. However due to lightning striking the only internet "thing" (I feel that venturing to say satellite dish would be pushing it) and Mamou not having enough money to repair it for over a month, despite being one of the country's principal cities, a lot of crazy life happenings have been forgotten or burried in a journal.

Here's what I do remember:

After coming home from that "business trip" in Conakry, I arrived at my doorstep with two volunteers only to find that I lost my keys for my massive iron front door that stands between my house and the world. After calls to my boss (no, he didn't have a spare key) we called a carpenter who literally just started pounding through the metal with hammers, crowbars, and anything else. After more or less busting through the cement that holds the doorframe in place, the door kind of fell off. But at least I was in my house. We slept well and I had plans to get the door fixed in the morning. However, being a metal door and needed a metal-working welder to reassemble the mess; my simple carpenter couldn't do it. But welders need welding tools. Welding tools need electricity. Mamou only has electricity between midnight and 6:00am. Welders work only during the day. Not to mention my friend and I had planned to bike to his village about 50 miles away.

I decided to ditch the front door situation and bike to my friends. Leaving my house with no front door.

The bike ride was my first time stepping out of city-living and into the absolutely breath-taking country side. It was all mountain biking and the wildlife was incredible, ranging from the typical goats and cows, getting more daring with a badass snake, and culminated when a giant white monkey flashed in front of my path! I almost fell off the bike I was so shocked!

We’d gotten a late start (because of the front-door fiasco) so were biking in midday African sunshine (read: hot) and found ourselves out of water pretty quickly. But a highlight was stopping off in one of the villages we were passing, completely covered in mud and looking ridiculously foreign in helmets and yoga pants, and asking for a drink of water. In Pular. It was my first 100% Pular exchange with people, (they didn’t know French, we had no choice) and it was a proud moment. Not only did they show us where a pump was to fill our nalgenes but a nice little old lady even gave us water from her house!

So after the villages, monkeys, hot sun, 3 rain storms, and a lot of mud, we finally arrived at my friend’s hut in his village right as it turned from dusk to dark. Perfect.

We were warmly greeted with, you guessed it, rice and sauce and were exhausted after the several hour ride (this was only the 2nd time I used my bike in 7 months was for a 50 mile trip through some mountains … it was a little rough). We’re getting ready to crash for the night so I’m brushing my teeth outside the hut, and Jason goes to use the latrine.

Jason: AGHHH!!!!!! %$#%&*!!!! %%$&#@!!!!!! AGGHHHH!!!!
Me: What’s going on?
Jason: (he comes doing a Frankenstein-walk towards me, dripping some sort of liquid, blinding me with his headlamp, bleeding everywhere, and covered in…. is that mud?)
Me: Ohhh my goshh! What in the world just went on?
Jason: I…FELL…DOWN…THE…LATRINE!!!!!!

You see, our dear friend walked into the latrine (where I just finished showering) and was just finishing up some business when the cement floor, corroded from acidic fumes from delicious human waste for several years, completely gave in … causing Jason to fall about 8 feet down. The broken cement scraped him up pretty badly so he was bleeding, and then proceeded to fall into a pile of … not mud.

I was stuck silent for a moment, and then tears started forming. I didn’t know if I was crying because of how disgusting he was or how utterly hilarious the situation was. I had to go knock on a neighbor’s door in the middle of the night, explain that their American friend was covered in latrine stuff, and may I please have several buckets of water to wash him off?

The next few hours were spent washing, disinfecting, washing and disinfecting again, cleaning up blood and bandaging wounds on the feet, head, torso, legs and arms. Finally Jason and I are changed and clean, we walk into his hut, light a few candles and he goes “This night sucks … but at least there’s chocolate” as he goes into his trunk to pull out a giant bag of peanut M&Ms sent from home. And then there’s more screaming and cursing; ants had invaded.

Other events in life:

The following weekend I went on a 70 mile bike trip to another village with my 2 best Guinean friends to visit Souleymane’s father. I was a little hesitant- I live in the most mountainous region of the country, and going to Timbo involves several giant mountains that even bush taxis sometimes can’t climb. But fellow PCVs offered reassurances: “No worries Kiki, you’ve got your fancy multi-speed Peace Corps bike and they have typical Guinean wrecks.’ I decided they were right, and prepared for the trip. After making them peanut butter/honey/banana sandwiches (they were telling me they didn’t need to eat anything until after we completed the journey) we hit the road. And about 10k into the ride I get a “Hey Kiki, let’s trade bikes!” and there went my advantage. So I rode the rest of the way to Timbo, up several ridiculously steep mountains, on a bike that was so low when I pedalled my knees almost kept hitting me in my face.

However, upon our arrival, the boys were so proud of the voyage, it had been worth it. I was proud of us, too. It had been awesome. We were greeted by Souleymane’s family with lots of hand shakings and hugs and children and even one grandpa who was so old he couldn’t get out of bed but he cried because he was so happy. No one could believe that white girl would bike all the way to their village to meet the family. However, Souleymane’s family also let me see poverty on one of the deepest levels I’ve ever experienced. They kept giving us food, continuously apologizing for their “lack of means.” I kept telling them to stop feeding us, knowing that even the avocado, sardine and mayonnaise salad they made was impacting their pockets. Turning in for the night, Souleymane and Ama Sara slept in the fathers’ bed. Father slept on a plastic mat on the cement floor. I had a sleepover with the grandma on the hardest mattress I ever felt. As I was blowing out the candle before bed I said to grandma in my best Pular “I’ll see you in the morning!” and her reply, “If Allah wills it.” How creepy.

Getting up in the morning I pulled up the sheets to look at the mattress I had slept on. It was a rice sack filled with something like newspaper. What a life.

Before leaving the village the next morning, neighbors and village authorities and extended family members showered us with gifts: 8 avocados, 2 sacks of peanuts, 3 sheets of expensive fabric, $2, 3 peanut bars, and … 3 CHICKENS!!!! It was like Christmas. Luckily we did not have to bike home with chickens on the handlebars (that would have been very Guinean of us) but instead sent them home on a bush taxi. The next day Ama Sara slaughtered the chickens for us and made one of the best dinners I’ve eaten in 8 months for us and all of our friends.

Other big news:
- 4th of July was well spent with other volunteers. We had no fireworks, but we had a lot of combustible cans of bug spray and endless boxes of matches. One of the better firework shows I’ve seen.
- Mamou recently opened up its first real restaurant. I’ve only eaten the shwarma, but I’ve heard the “hambourgers” are good. “Pidzzza” is on the menu, but no price listed, and I’ve never actually seen a pizza, so I think it’s a hoax. However, it’s a step in the right direction!
- I started a garden! I was told I could only plant flowers because they wanted to keep the yard “pretty” and couldn’t take out any of the overgrown bushes that were driving me mad. I hacked out an entire section of yard for me, planted plenty of flowers, as well as spinach, strawberries, watermelon, and cantaloupe. And maybe I shouldn’t be shocked, but stuff is actually growing!
- While working on logistics for “Girls Conference” I ran into a group of respected men of Mamou at the café. I told them what I was doing and a doctor says “Oh no, you’re not going to turn them against us, are you? Telling them women are equal?” I threw back a few sassy comments, letting them know that there are many ignorant attitudes that are preventing Guinea from developing. Their proof that men and women aren’t equal? Because (and I quote):

“Women can’t climb a tree, cut down branches and build a fence.”
Me: “I built a live fence 2 weeks ago with branches that I hacked up with a machete myself.”
Men: Yeah, but you can’t climb a tree!
Me: Do I not have two legs and two arms like you do?

And then, because I really was too busy to have such an ignorant conversation, I walked away letting them know we’d continue this conversation later.

Other things in life are great. A HUGE thank you to Jackie, Mandy and Ali for an awesome package with articles and my first set of real art supplies! My new CDs from Cara and the McW sisters are awesome (although I admit I think I overplayed them). And Emilie for the best food supplies ever, including pesto packets, crystal light and granola. And the Hannah Montana bubbles/pen/stamp combo was a huge hit. I taught the little kids how to blow bubbles … it was like magic. And the boys were sad when the hot pink "stamp" didn't show up on their black skin as it did on my white skin. And dad and Claire, as usual, amazing. Souleymane loved the pen that said “Frederick, MD” on it … especially when I told him Frederick was the name of my village. And the cast-iron kettle is beautiful and great for mint tea. Love you ALL and miss everyone back home. A lot. I think about you often.