Guinean Homecoming, Part Trois: Getting back to Senegal

My taxi ride back to Dakar was of course, an adventure. The first leg went fairly smoothly and I befriended a traditional doctor. We slept at the border where a creep-o went into my pocket while I was sleeping and stole my cell phone! But I was using my purse as a pillow (and completely passed out) and am happy that the phone was there to get stolen and not my purse, which had my camera/money/passport, etc. I consider myself lucky- and what is a guy going to do with a busted-ass cellphone with 1000 GNF (20 cents) on it? Knock yourself out. When we arrived to the town to transfer taxis, the traditional doctor offered me a ride in his SUV with his chauffer. HELL YES I accepted- but should’ve forseen the consequences. We went back to his hut to shower, then I had to meet the family, eat the fonio, package traditional medicines. And Senegal is HOT … like disgustingly so. But it was kind of cool to spend several hours in a Senegalese village and speak the Pular and eat the food and 'gain pharmaceutical experience.' I had this bizarre open wound on my arm that had been bothering me since the plane ride from Botswana but the doctor put on this blue paste and it healed within hours. I swear. We eventually left the village but the SUV was so old and ghetto we were crawling at like, 30 mph. And had to stop to sell medicine. And had to pick up a possessed woman. (I will never forget: "Kiki, I know you want to get back, but we have to get this woman. She is very, very sick. She needs to go to the capital city. She needs good doctors. You see ... she is possessed by the devil.") But the doc was so nice, bought all my foods, bought me some cold medicine, and didn’t let me chip in for gas. So he saved me a lot of money, which I then used to buy skinny jeans in Dakar (NO zippers this time, folks.) Dakar is a fun city- beautiful beaches and nice hotels and all the Peuls are really nice. While bargaining for a tshirt the Pular came out, and word spread though this giant city that an American girl was speaking Pular and this Guinean guy found me and brought me to this factory filled with Peuls who were making clothes/bags/wallets/all sorts of crafts! And he took me around to On Jaramaa EVERYONE and it was another ridiculous episode in the series. Hilarious … and I was happy to be getting all the Pular out of me for the next year or so. I just seriously love the Peuls. They are the greatest ethnic group on the face of the planet, in my opinion. Time and time again, outside of Mamou when I met a group of them, they took me in as family and cared for me and made sure no harm would come to me. I think I appreciated this on a new level after having been in Shoshong where, although people nice enough (like America) the hospitality and warmth of this ENTIRE subset of people is mind-boggling.

Alright folks, that is the official conclusion of the Guinean homecoming. The first Guinean homecoming, but certainly not the last.

Guinean Homecoming, Part Deux

here we go (from the same letter written to friends):

My two weeks in Mamou were a blur. The first thing we did after I showered and was acceptable to walk around town was get shown the World Map that ESM did. AND OH MY GOD- I have never been so proud. It is BEAUTIFUL. Like the Guineans who painted my bathroom dripped paint on the door, floors, everywhere- so I was naturally nervous about seeing a detailed map go up on the side of a school. But this thing is perfect! And the colors are incredible! They even hired a calligrapher to stencil our name/logo/contact information up top. The association is SO proud of this first project- Jake and I had given a combined 100,000 GNF to do it, but costs were wayyy more than that, and they even raised money on their own! They had written and distributed fundraising letters, and I conveniently was there just in time for the map’s inaugural ceremony (I wonder if there have been other World Map Inauguration Ceremonies?). But government authorities had been invited, chairs rented, DJs hired and professional rappers solicited. The inaugural ceremony was on my last day and all the meetings and preparations for it were stressful- I forgot how much work I had put into this association. To do anything takes so much time and energy, and I don’t know how these kids haven’t gotten exhausted by it all. After two weeks I was SPENT. The ceremony got rushed along because of a storm blowing in, but authorities came, rappers rapped, and even an HIV/AIDS group did standup comedy that segued into a sensibilisation. So anyways, going back to Mamou and seeing the project I poured all my effort into not only surviving, but thriving, was just a really cool experience. Now that the first project is officially completed, part of their "plan d’action" is to enter the Youth Association scene where they compete for international projects with all the NGOs who come specifically to Mamou to look for groups to train/fund. I don’t know how it all works, and wish I was there to support them, but the leadership of this group is strong and they have built an established network who can help them get their game to the next level. Inch-ALLAH. (I could gush about ESM for hours, so I’ll stop here for now. But our one year anniversary is June 10^th!!)

Another thing I loved about going back was I no longer had to pretend I was a poor PCV and hide my money. I mean, yes I’m still poor, but I totally delved into the “vie communutaire” philosophy and shared what I had. So I started spending silly and took everyone to the club one night. It’s one of those things where being students, all my boys are too poor to do ANYTHING, so whatever I want to pay for, I have to pay times seven so we can do it as a group. So clubbing was fabulous at L’OASIS (where Sach and I had lived it up and been celebrities in months past) but I didn’t get any DJ shout-outs this time around. That was a first, but I survived. I also really wanted to go hiking in Doucki (an area renowned for its mountainous hiking), but that of course meant I had to pay for everyone else. So me and my seven hired a taxi with my chauffer friend and set off.

Doucki was incredible. I had been told to “find Hassan” in Doucki, which is “after the town of Pita.” I called, but got no answer- no reception. Hmm … maybe that means he’s in the bush? Which is where we want to go? So we set off in our taxi after I made sure the boys understood that “I have no idea where we’re going and if the guy will be there. We might not have any food. I’m warning you, this could be a disaster.” The boys were down for the adventure though (the taxi driver was definitely not) and several HOURS after Pita aimlessly driving on dirt roads some children see me in the taxi and start screaming for us to pull into their compound. We obeyed, and found Hassan and insane amounts of mangoes. He took us for a hike that afternoon down into the crevices of the earth which turned out to be like rainforests (I didn’t know Guinea had rainforests!) and the boys had a blast swinging from vines and finding monster-sized bugs and snails. We had a great dinner, my boys brought anti-Muslim substances (re: booze) and we stayed up all night just talking and joking and enjoying being together. We really transcended a level of friendship this time around- something about not being there as a PCV but as a friend changed our dynamic and maybe it sounds silly, but we all really felt like genuine family. The next morning we hiked up rocks and down cliffs and played in waterfalls. We followed one waterfall underground into an underground swimming hole- and then the water flowed out to a DIFFERENT waterfall- so we’re swimming underground between two waterfalls. It was awesome! And these boys had the time of their life too- Souleymane is studying tourism in Conakry and he’d never before been a tourist! So while we all had fun, he had this eye-opening experience that meant a ton to him. After playing, hiking and swimming all day we made it back to our taxi, commissioned some petits to fill up the trunk with mangoes, and drove back to Mamou.

The rest of the time there was just spent eating a lot of rice, riding a lot of motos (SO fun) and doing a lot of work with the association. My market lady took me shopping for indigo and then brought me to the tailor and leather-worker to buy 1 complet, 1 dress and 2 pairs of sandals. The whole time she had me hold her 4-year old son’s hand who she had dressed up in an Obama collared shirt with patent leather shoes on. We went back to her house where she had a photographer come over to take family pictures and then we ate rice and she paid for my moto back home. Another day I made peanut sauce with my boss’s wife … after we got into a yelling match about why I wasn’t at her house more often. I was seriously SO angry- I had forgotten how EXHAUSTING my life in Mamou was and busted my ass to the top of the mountain to keep our sauce-making date after running around town to deliver ESM Inauguration Invitations, and this lady starts whining that I don’t spend more time with her. I lost it … but after we both vented and aired out our anger, we hugged it out and went back to being mom/daughter-like and I made some fabulous peanut sauce. I visited my office a lot and joked around with old co-workers (the 52 states of America suddenly became a big topic of discussion) and also went to another mountain to visit my guard’s family. There had been only one noticible change to Mamou since my departure: a keke (favorite african dish: pounded millet-like grain with hot peppers, tomatoes, fish, avocado, you name it!) lady opened up RIGHT NEXT TO MY COMPOUND!! Which was awesome, considering PC had taken my stove. The only downside is if I wanted keke, you have to “invitation” everyone- once I was so hungry and didn’t want to share but did anyways, and I tried shoving a wad of keke down my throat so I could eat something before everyone devoured it all, and started choking. So I spent all my time gagging by the moonlight and everyone was too busy eating to notice and by the time I was able to swallow, almost everything was gone.

My last night in Mamou was one of my biggest worries: I was scared I would have another collapse when it was time to leave and I’d be in the same bad place I was in in October. But it started with an impromptu party in my house when I gave my boys (and my favorite guard!) these badass Lacoste polos I picked up in Shoshong and we started dancing and taking pictures and being all silly in my house. There was so much excitement with the presents (I also handed out mini American flags) and laughter that this thick atmosphere of “JOY” just landed on us. I know, it sounds cheesey, but everyone was so HAPPY and joyful and we were together and were like a family … it really felt like Christmas. That happy/excited/I love life kind of feeling. The party eventually stopped so I could pack (by candlelight- I had lent my headlamp to a friend a few nights prior). Malcolm came over, I quickly gave up packing, and we joined my boys outside my compound. So we were all just hanging out, listening to Takana Zion’s latest album when a rainstorm chased us onto our terrace. MX was sick so didn’t stay long, but me and my boys and my guard just talked all night- who would get married first? Who’d have the most kids? And so on. So then the joyful tone took a serious “what about the future” tone, and I shared my biggest fear: I was afraid to come back to Mamou one day to find that no one lived there anymore, or they were all married and wouldn’t be able to hang out. And then Ama Sara goes “Kiki, when you come back, we’ll all just meet up from wherever we are here in Mamou and bring our wives with us!” And as silly as that sounds- isn’t that what we do in America anyways? Reunions, bring the family- everyone anywhere in this life moves on, but you keep in touch and sometimes you have to travel a little bit but relationships don’t have to end just because, say, Abdourhamane moves to Conakry. So anyways, that I think had been one of the biggest fears gnawing at me- I didn’t want to leave Mamou and have everything disappear. But Ama Sara totally made me see how silly I was being!

One year ago

September 28, 2009: a day that started like any other, but ended up drastically changing the path I thought my life was on.

Last night I woke up at 3:30 am and heard the rain falling outside for the first time in months. I immediately was transported back to my bedroom in Mamou, where I would lay in bed listening to the rain fall on the tin roof for hours. And what used to be a soothing, peaceful experience in Mamou has become a memory-lurching sleep-depriving one here in Charlottesville. I was back in Mamou until my alarm went off at 6:30 am.

And the strangest part?

Today is the anniversary of the killings/rapings that were in Conakry's (Guinea's capital) stadium at a peaceful protest concerning the upcoming elections.

I know it's been months since I've written (I still haven't finished my Guinean homecoming recount) but given to this anniversary's significance, let me just give you the rest of that letter (subsequent post).

On a reflective note, it pains me to acknowledge the fact that Guinea has been having "upcoming" elections for a full year now. I was wearing a t-shirt with a Guinean presidential candidate on it and a janitor asked me whose face was on it. "A candidate for Guinea's upcoming presidential elections" I answered. Great, with 2009 emblazoned across the front.

The excitement and hope surrounding the elections in 2009 was outrageous. Democracy was going to work, we were sure of it. People were registering to vote, election committees from all over the world were helping out. And now- a year later, and to what avail? Sorry, the dictator got shot in the head. Sorry, trucks couldn't get ballots to this part of the country. Sorry, I need more time to get candidates to like me. Sorry, it's Ramadan and we're too hungry to vote. Excuses have run dry, and judging by the tones of my friends back there, it sounds like hope has too. Really, it is amazing that America got it right the first time. It defies so many human-instincts to set up a smoothly functioning democracy, and BAM! Washington held power, turned over power, and walked away.

I love America.

(Minus our whacked-out healthcare system. But that's for another time.)