So this morning I went to the health center with Aissatu Bah. She had cut her finger with a knife while cooking the other day and was going to have her dressings changed. Basically, something we as Americans do at home but here there’s no such thing as a basic household first aid kit so the simplest thing like putting some iodine on it and a band-aid (they don’t actually have band-aids here, they tape gauze onto the wound) requires a trip to the health center. They don’t have much there, but they do have iodine and gauze. However they don’t sterilize anything before using it nor do they wash their hands before dressing somebody’s wound and I’m just like – “you’d be better off if I did that for you at my house” but we are not allowed to do that, so…
While we were there she and the doctor told me that a greve started in Conakry yesterday. I think greve literally means “strike”, but it’s more like “people are demonstrating against the government and the government is killing them.” 87 dead since yesterday. The only thing I could get out of anyone is that it has to do with “the opposition”. Really have to try to get BBC News on my radio today. I am sure we are on standfast (first stage of readiness – it means stay at your site or wherever you currently happen to be) right now but I haven’t heard anything and if I still haven’t heard anything by Thursday morning I don’t know if I should go to Paul’s race or not. It’s nowhere near Conakry, it’s in the opposite direction, but if we’re on standfast we are not supposed to travel. I really wish I could make phone calls without going all the way to John’s site. But maybe he will send me a note today or tomorrow to let me know what’s going on. At any rate I am putting my “consolidation” pack in order in case we get the word to start preparing for possible evacuation. Plus a little suitcase of the stuff I’ll want sent to me if we do get evacuated (apparently they will send you a limited weight of stuff if you are evacuated). Mine is mostly fabric/African clothes, jewelry and other small souvenirs. But let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.
So besides that, Aissatu’s family does not have good luck this week. Not only did Aissatu cut her finger cooking, but Caw Ousmane cut his thumb with his machete out in the fields. Grandma has been vomiting for 2 days. Billo has a HORRIBLE ear infection, I mean there is just crusty discolored gunk all over the outside of his ear. I asked if they had taken him to the health center and they said no. Kid definitely needs antibiotics. Then the other kid (shoot…Ibrahima?) has all these sores all over his shins oozing pus and blood and I was like Aissatu, use the soap I gave you the other day (good antibacterial one), wash that well 3-4 times a day and make the kid wear clean pants. SERIOUSLY. I don’t know if they will do it or not. But basically there are only 3 people in the family who are in good health: Caw Ousmane’s wife Aissatu, his baby Tidiane and Binta (teenager and Aissatu Bah’s sister).
Also my mice are not dead. I just saw one sprint across the living room floor. Yesterday I saw one walking all slow so I thought maybe he was in his death throes but then he saw me and shot off like a rocket. Can’t kill bugs with fumigation, can’t kill mice with rat poison (and they DID eat it), what’s with these African super-creatures? Maybe that’s why they call them “Africanized Bees” cause if they’re impossible to kill, they’re probably Afrca-like.
In other news, I got a really awesome loaf of French bread today. Crispy on the outside, soft on the inside, just the way I like it!! Wish I knew which baker baked it. YUM.
EDIT: Ok so my friend Bella just gave me the down-low on the greve, which, I looked it up, does mean strike. So apparently what’s going on is that all of the “opposition” candidates (everyone but Dadis – there are like 80) had planned during Ramadan that they wanted to have a demonstration protesting Dadis’ plans to be a candidate on the ballot, which he originally said he would not do. They knew they had to wait until Ramadan was over so they planned it for Sept. 28 which is Guinea’s independence day (when they kicked France out) in the Estade du the 28 de Septembre (Independence Stadium, basically). About a week ago Dadis made his candidacy official. Which fueled the demonstration even more. There were over 50,000 “jeunesse” (youth, though I suspect they weren’t all youths) there. The CNDD did not like this demonstration and told them to disperse. They said no. So the Presidential Guard (Red Berets) went in and made them leave, in the process killing 87 people (and evidently raping women with their guns – this is just what my friend told me). So in response, there is apparently a demonstration in Mamou today (“the intersection of Guinea” – gotta go through there to go almost anywhere) and he thinks they will spread to all the bigger cities, places where we have volunteers (well, I mean, we even have volunteers in Conakry but at least in Conakry they can go to the Bureau which is guarded).
So if this is true and there are going to be demonstrations like this in bigger cities, I am not going to Paul’s race, as I have to go through several big cities to get there. I just hope that John hasn’t left his site yet and that we are on standfast and he has to stay there because if me and Ian don’t have John there to send us messages, we are kind of SOL. Although I guess if it were a real emergency he could call the German couple who live in his city and they could send us a message (they speak English – and French, and German, and probably 2 or 3 other languages =).)
At any rate, I’m getting my “For America” suitcase all ready to go…just in case.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Death Toll: 157
So when my friend Bella came over today with his friend I asked them for the news. Then I made them help me tear apart my living room looking for a dead mouse.
News first. So apparently they had not had a lot of opportunity to listen to the radio since yesterday but one thing they DID know was that the military is still firing in Conakry and the death toll is now 157. So on Day Two they killed almost as many people as on Day One. At least they’re consistent? They didn’t know anything about what happened with the demonstration in Mamou or if strife was spreading, but just based on the fact that the death toll is rising and there is still shooting in Conakry, I decided not to go to Paul’s race. Sorry Paul. You live in a big city and I have to go through two big cities and one medium city to get to you and I just…don’t want to push it. Plus for all I know we are on Standfast and nobody will be able to go to Paul’s race.
However I might go to John’s site tomorrow to use the phone and buy some eggs. I would like to talk to our Safety and Security officer so I can send a note to Ian and let him know the situation. It’s easy to go to John’s site tomorrow because it is our market day so there are plenty of taxis and if I get an early taxi MAYBE I could even get back in the same day. Maybe. Maybe not. But it’d be worth it to get my hands on some eggs and some phone service.
Also apparently you can watch French news (like CNN equivalent) at 8pm every night at the video club with the satellite dish. I opted not to go tonight because I’m tired but also because I can never understand the French newscasters (they talk fast and speak real French with real French accents!)
So this morning I was motivated to organize my house, take stock of everything I have, and put everything I’d want sent to me in the States in the suitcase. I was cleaning and organizing and making lists until mid-afternoon. And then I started to smell something rank. I had suspicions it was a dead mouse. At that moment, Bella and his friend came over and so after the respite of news I made them come inside and help me tear apart my living room looking for a dead mouse. We did not find one. They were like, “just spray some air freshener”. And I’m like…that is not going to work. Then they said just to wait and it will stink more and then we’ll be able to really locate where it is. I didn’t really smell it this evening, though, so maybe it was just the gone-bad cheese that I had been using to give them the poison. But on the plus side I did find one of Yogi’s bones under one of the couches and he’s pretty happy about that.
I had keke for dinner again. I am really not on the rice and sauce train right now. Keke’s where it’s at.
News first. So apparently they had not had a lot of opportunity to listen to the radio since yesterday but one thing they DID know was that the military is still firing in Conakry and the death toll is now 157. So on Day Two they killed almost as many people as on Day One. At least they’re consistent? They didn’t know anything about what happened with the demonstration in Mamou or if strife was spreading, but just based on the fact that the death toll is rising and there is still shooting in Conakry, I decided not to go to Paul’s race. Sorry Paul. You live in a big city and I have to go through two big cities and one medium city to get to you and I just…don’t want to push it. Plus for all I know we are on Standfast and nobody will be able to go to Paul’s race.
However I might go to John’s site tomorrow to use the phone and buy some eggs. I would like to talk to our Safety and Security officer so I can send a note to Ian and let him know the situation. It’s easy to go to John’s site tomorrow because it is our market day so there are plenty of taxis and if I get an early taxi MAYBE I could even get back in the same day. Maybe. Maybe not. But it’d be worth it to get my hands on some eggs and some phone service.
Also apparently you can watch French news (like CNN equivalent) at 8pm every night at the video club with the satellite dish. I opted not to go tonight because I’m tired but also because I can never understand the French newscasters (they talk fast and speak real French with real French accents!)
So this morning I was motivated to organize my house, take stock of everything I have, and put everything I’d want sent to me in the States in the suitcase. I was cleaning and organizing and making lists until mid-afternoon. And then I started to smell something rank. I had suspicions it was a dead mouse. At that moment, Bella and his friend came over and so after the respite of news I made them come inside and help me tear apart my living room looking for a dead mouse. We did not find one. They were like, “just spray some air freshener”. And I’m like…that is not going to work. Then they said just to wait and it will stink more and then we’ll be able to really locate where it is. I didn’t really smell it this evening, though, so maybe it was just the gone-bad cheese that I had been using to give them the poison. But on the plus side I did find one of Yogi’s bones under one of the couches and he’s pretty happy about that.
I had keke for dinner again. I am really not on the rice and sauce train right now. Keke’s where it’s at.
I Read A Lot
Well I read all three Lord of the Rings books and The Hobbit in the last couple of weeks. Have not had the endurance to pop open The Silmarillion, but maybe sometime soon. Dude, Peter Jackson is a GENIUS. I gotta say, movies > books. Because in the movie, he incorporates stuff Tolkein only put in the Appendices, he mixes up the different chapters within the books so that the stories of Frodo/Sam intermingle with the Aragorn/Legolas/Gimli storyline and Merry/Pippin soryline, where as the books put each all together rather than interspersing chronologically. And the dialogue I feel was improved in the movie, even stuff like the healing of King Theoden and the Arwen/Aragorn relationship being fleshed out. Oh and the Elves coming to help at Helm’s Deep! I thought that was a really important part in the movie but it never happens in the book. Basically, an extremely well done trilogy, Mr. Jackson, hats off to you. The only grumble I’d have is the ending. In the book they go back to the Shire and have one last battle and it explains what happens to everybody until you are satisfied that they lived real lives before the various ends and in the movie there’s like a half an hour of reunions and goodbyes ad nauseum and yet you are still left wanting because they all just go away on a boat. So that’s my only gripe.
I also just finished the second “Twilight” book: New Moon. I am really glad that I don’t have all four books in my possession to read one after the other as though I were chain-smoking because I think I would really, really start to hate Bella. I mean she already annoys me by the end of one book and the only thing that keeps me hanging on is Edward. And Alice and Carlisle. So this book was especially painful because they were missing for 75% of it and I had to make do with trying to like Jacob for pages upon pages (kept flipping forward to find out when the name “Edward” returned to the story – it was a LONG way away). I suppose it’s just that Bella is so OBSESSIVE, like SERIOUSLY obsessive and I just want to slap her and yell, “THERE ARE OTHER THINGS IN LIFE!!!” Even when Edward IS around I want to do this because seeing your high school boyfriend ALL DAY EVERY DAY is weird. I mean, never not together, because he stays in her room at night. It’s like. Well, DUH, when he’s not around you won’t be able to function, you have built YOUR ENTIRE WORLD on him. I dunno, I can’t describe it. I just think there’s a way to get across the all-encompassing, mind-blowing love part of it without her being a whiny little obsessive teenybopper. End rant. Yes, I am going to continue the series. Federico is supposed to send me #3 on the October mail run. I don’t know how many copies of #4 we have, but probably not more than one or two so it’ll be awhile yet before that gets around to me.
I put out mouse poison tonight. I hope those mice die. I’m sure I’ll be sad when I toss their cute little dead bodies outside but seriously, having to put all my food on lockdown, like LOCKDOWN (they eat through Ziplocs and worse – candy bar wrappers…AND the zippable rice sack I had, discovered that hole today). I mean, I have to sleep with my tomato wrapped up in a bandanna in my bed inside my mosquito net with me so that they won’t find it. And every morning I’m cleaning up ridiculous amounts of mouse poo and different wrappers torn to shreds and I’ve just had it. It’s war.
Let’s see, what else is going on? The Secretaire Communautaire told me that if the dude has refused to go do the estimate on the pump at the school then I should just go ahead and fix the other pumps. So I’m going forward on that project. Although at this point the next time I’ll be with a computer and able to write the proposal and get it to Abdoul won’t be until probably Thanksgiving. Or maybe Halloween… Although I guess I could write the proposal on this and then just have to create the budget, format it, and print it out next time I’m at a computer. So yeah. Gonna get started on that.
There are soon going to be people living in the house next door to me. They have built up a whole concession wall (we won’t be able to see each other at all) and cooking and storage rooms and latrines/shower stall thingies so rumor has it there will actually be people living there now. Which I suppose is nice, even though I won’t be able to see them at all. But maybe I’ll get invited to dinner.
Lately my interest in rice or toh and sauce has gone into a nosedive. Tonight I got keke for dinner. She was really happy because I haven’t gotten keke from her in AWHILE. And since it’s cucumber season, there was cucumber on it! But of course my rice lady was pretty much like, “Yo Oumou, WTF?” Who would have thought pounded manioc can taste so good? It’s kinda like tangy sawdust (gotta drink a lot of water with it) and they put Maggi (MSG), salt (as if the Maggi didn’t have enough), peanut oil with some kind of herb or something in it, onion, cucumber (tomatoes if it’s ‘mater season) and a piment/okra mixture. It’s freaking delicious. Sometimes she has fish balls too but I only get those for Yogi. Sometimes I put avocado (avocado season is over, I am sad) or tuna on it. I suppose you could also buy a hard boiled egg from her to slice on it but the eggs in my town have usually been boiled so long ago that they are going bad by the time you get around to buying one so I steer clear. I don’t know why there are no fresh eggs in town when there are so many hard boiled eggs, and eggs stay good longer uncooked. It’s a conundrum.
I’m going to Kindia on Thursday so I’m going to buy a whole crate of eggs. But stop myself from consuming all 30 in like 2 weeks. Because by the end you get really sick of eggs. And then a month later you’re like, “Man I wish I had some eggs!!”
Also I found a clandestine little hut in my town that you have to be really secretive going in and out of where you can buy beer (also, incidentally, the only place I have seen anyone actively cultivating beans). So I am going to make beer battered something sometime soon. Like maybe beer battered onions. YUM. If only I had some Ranch dressing. I wouldn’t drink the beer because it has been sitting hot in that hut for quite awhile. I can’t imagine it being delightful. But maybe if my village someday gets a fridge…
I also just finished the second “Twilight” book: New Moon. I am really glad that I don’t have all four books in my possession to read one after the other as though I were chain-smoking because I think I would really, really start to hate Bella. I mean she already annoys me by the end of one book and the only thing that keeps me hanging on is Edward. And Alice and Carlisle. So this book was especially painful because they were missing for 75% of it and I had to make do with trying to like Jacob for pages upon pages (kept flipping forward to find out when the name “Edward” returned to the story – it was a LONG way away). I suppose it’s just that Bella is so OBSESSIVE, like SERIOUSLY obsessive and I just want to slap her and yell, “THERE ARE OTHER THINGS IN LIFE!!!” Even when Edward IS around I want to do this because seeing your high school boyfriend ALL DAY EVERY DAY is weird. I mean, never not together, because he stays in her room at night. It’s like. Well, DUH, when he’s not around you won’t be able to function, you have built YOUR ENTIRE WORLD on him. I dunno, I can’t describe it. I just think there’s a way to get across the all-encompassing, mind-blowing love part of it without her being a whiny little obsessive teenybopper. End rant. Yes, I am going to continue the series. Federico is supposed to send me #3 on the October mail run. I don’t know how many copies of #4 we have, but probably not more than one or two so it’ll be awhile yet before that gets around to me.
I put out mouse poison tonight. I hope those mice die. I’m sure I’ll be sad when I toss their cute little dead bodies outside but seriously, having to put all my food on lockdown, like LOCKDOWN (they eat through Ziplocs and worse – candy bar wrappers…AND the zippable rice sack I had, discovered that hole today). I mean, I have to sleep with my tomato wrapped up in a bandanna in my bed inside my mosquito net with me so that they won’t find it. And every morning I’m cleaning up ridiculous amounts of mouse poo and different wrappers torn to shreds and I’ve just had it. It’s war.
Let’s see, what else is going on? The Secretaire Communautaire told me that if the dude has refused to go do the estimate on the pump at the school then I should just go ahead and fix the other pumps. So I’m going forward on that project. Although at this point the next time I’ll be with a computer and able to write the proposal and get it to Abdoul won’t be until probably Thanksgiving. Or maybe Halloween… Although I guess I could write the proposal on this and then just have to create the budget, format it, and print it out next time I’m at a computer. So yeah. Gonna get started on that.
There are soon going to be people living in the house next door to me. They have built up a whole concession wall (we won’t be able to see each other at all) and cooking and storage rooms and latrines/shower stall thingies so rumor has it there will actually be people living there now. Which I suppose is nice, even though I won’t be able to see them at all. But maybe I’ll get invited to dinner.
Lately my interest in rice or toh and sauce has gone into a nosedive. Tonight I got keke for dinner. She was really happy because I haven’t gotten keke from her in AWHILE. And since it’s cucumber season, there was cucumber on it! But of course my rice lady was pretty much like, “Yo Oumou, WTF?” Who would have thought pounded manioc can taste so good? It’s kinda like tangy sawdust (gotta drink a lot of water with it) and they put Maggi (MSG), salt (as if the Maggi didn’t have enough), peanut oil with some kind of herb or something in it, onion, cucumber (tomatoes if it’s ‘mater season) and a piment/okra mixture. It’s freaking delicious. Sometimes she has fish balls too but I only get those for Yogi. Sometimes I put avocado (avocado season is over, I am sad) or tuna on it. I suppose you could also buy a hard boiled egg from her to slice on it but the eggs in my town have usually been boiled so long ago that they are going bad by the time you get around to buying one so I steer clear. I don’t know why there are no fresh eggs in town when there are so many hard boiled eggs, and eggs stay good longer uncooked. It’s a conundrum.
I’m going to Kindia on Thursday so I’m going to buy a whole crate of eggs. But stop myself from consuming all 30 in like 2 weeks. Because by the end you get really sick of eggs. And then a month later you’re like, “Man I wish I had some eggs!!”
Also I found a clandestine little hut in my town that you have to be really secretive going in and out of where you can buy beer (also, incidentally, the only place I have seen anyone actively cultivating beans). So I am going to make beer battered something sometime soon. Like maybe beer battered onions. YUM. If only I had some Ranch dressing. I wouldn’t drink the beer because it has been sitting hot in that hut for quite awhile. I can’t imagine it being delightful. But maybe if my village someday gets a fridge…
Monday, September 21, 2009
Ramadan Is Over
Well today was the “jour de la fete” (holiday – end of Ramadan). Apparently there was some discord about when the fete was (apparently they celebrated yesterday in Conakry). I assume it is the Imam who decides the day. My Outhouse Calendar said it should be today. So…iron clad fact, right?
Anyway as usual I was lying awake when the prayer call came out at 5-something AM. For some reason I am always awake for the prayer call. Maybe Allah is trying to tell me something. So I fade in and out of sleep and then after the 6am prayer the drums start. Or I should say, THE drum. Evidently it is a big drum. I assume one person is beating on it. It sounds like they are doing it in my backyard and the sound resonates on the walls of my room. Slow, measured, then quicker, then fast, then it stops for a few minutes and restarts.
Yogi thinks this is Allah coming down on him and is FREAKING OUT. He is barking and whimpering and skittering around the room. Me, I might have been able to sleep through the drum, but not Yogi making pagaille (chaos) everywhere. I try letting him into the living room. He starts scratching at doors. I try putting him outside but am so annoyed that I don’t get the rope all the way round his neck and he is loose so I have to chase him into the yard in my little shorts and tattered tank top, braless, but luckily he has to pee and that is apparently more pressing than escape so I catch him without much trouble. Then somebody calls my name from the road while I am dragging him back to the porch and I don’t even look and just hold up my hand and in English say, “not right now!” Attach Yogi to the rope and slam the door without another thought. Whoever it was must think I am really rude. Oh well.
This doesn’t stop Yogi. The drum is still freaking him out and I end up having to get up and dressed by 7am. Around 9:30 I decide I want to buy meat for the family I have been eating with of late so I abandon LOTR: The Two Towers and go to the Carrefour, where I can hear the butchers chopping cows on the tables from my house.
It is a PAGAILLE (chaos). There are dozens of people crowded around the two tables, everyone wanting some meat for the fete. The butchers are throwing back knives and hatchets and I dunno how nobody got one in the eye, but apparently they are swift to get out of the way. I see Caw Ousmane (member of the family) trying to get meat and I tell him I want to buy a kilo for the family and he says he will get it. So I give him the 7 mille (not even $1.50) that it costs for a kilo of beef and then sit with my friend Ousmane the Boutiquier (yes, everyone is named Ousmane) and watch the pagaille unfold. Apparently Caw Ousmane does not have sharp elbows because he was one of the last to still be trying to get meat.
Dude. The smell of butchered cow is FOUL. I couldn’t stand at the table. I could barely sit back at my friend’s boutique watching. Forget the stench, the bloody parts, the hide, the kids hitting each other with the dead cow’s tail, people walking away with its feet, women coming up with entrails in their hands asking Ousmane the Boutiquier for a bag to put them in…GROSS. And on top of all that the sickening smell.
So anyway Caw Ousmane had to go pray and I didn’t know if he ended up getting any meat but when Aissatu Bah brought me rice and sauce in the evening, there was beef in it so I guess he did.
Anyway I gave the family 5 Fantas (3x the cost of the kilo of beef), a liter goblet full of candies (WWF gum complete with temporary tattoos in the wrappers, lollipops, toffees) and a pot of popcorn. They thought the popcorn was HELLA doux and wanted me to teach them how to make it. I can, it’s easy, but the corn they grow here isn’t sweet corn so it isn’t exactly the same, but it’s something.
So I did the Attaya thing while they ate their bon-bons and then when it started to rain had to run home to get my solar charger out of harm’s way and then Aissatu brought me rice and sauce (but it was soup sauce so it was Yogi who enjoyed it) and we sat on my porch awhile talking while we had the hardest rain we’ve had in awhile and I filled my buckets. When it waned a little I loaned her my rainjacket to run home in and then went out and took my bath, which ended up being in the rain. Since it was raining and getting my hair wet I just washed my hair (hadn’t done that for almost 2 weeks!). Then I put on music and did a bunch of chores till Bella came over to go to the dance.
We went and got Aissatu Bah and Hoodia found us on the road. It was like the last time I went (all kids) because we were early and it was raining. But I don’t mind the kids because they’ll dance with me if I take their hands and originally we were up on the raised part where the DJ is but when we went to sit down I had a sudden urge to run into the main crowd and make kids dance with me. So I did. It was crazy. Once I got down there, a circle formed around me, everyone wanting to see what the white girl was doing. So I danced with some kids like that before my friends pulled me away. Dude some of those little kids can DANCE. And have really cute clothes. Like cute white shirts that glow in the blacklight.
Anyway my friends were spent by like 10:30 which I found shocking so I went home even though I was ready for more.
And now I sleep.
Anyway as usual I was lying awake when the prayer call came out at 5-something AM. For some reason I am always awake for the prayer call. Maybe Allah is trying to tell me something. So I fade in and out of sleep and then after the 6am prayer the drums start. Or I should say, THE drum. Evidently it is a big drum. I assume one person is beating on it. It sounds like they are doing it in my backyard and the sound resonates on the walls of my room. Slow, measured, then quicker, then fast, then it stops for a few minutes and restarts.
Yogi thinks this is Allah coming down on him and is FREAKING OUT. He is barking and whimpering and skittering around the room. Me, I might have been able to sleep through the drum, but not Yogi making pagaille (chaos) everywhere. I try letting him into the living room. He starts scratching at doors. I try putting him outside but am so annoyed that I don’t get the rope all the way round his neck and he is loose so I have to chase him into the yard in my little shorts and tattered tank top, braless, but luckily he has to pee and that is apparently more pressing than escape so I catch him without much trouble. Then somebody calls my name from the road while I am dragging him back to the porch and I don’t even look and just hold up my hand and in English say, “not right now!” Attach Yogi to the rope and slam the door without another thought. Whoever it was must think I am really rude. Oh well.
This doesn’t stop Yogi. The drum is still freaking him out and I end up having to get up and dressed by 7am. Around 9:30 I decide I want to buy meat for the family I have been eating with of late so I abandon LOTR: The Two Towers and go to the Carrefour, where I can hear the butchers chopping cows on the tables from my house.
It is a PAGAILLE (chaos). There are dozens of people crowded around the two tables, everyone wanting some meat for the fete. The butchers are throwing back knives and hatchets and I dunno how nobody got one in the eye, but apparently they are swift to get out of the way. I see Caw Ousmane (member of the family) trying to get meat and I tell him I want to buy a kilo for the family and he says he will get it. So I give him the 7 mille (not even $1.50) that it costs for a kilo of beef and then sit with my friend Ousmane the Boutiquier (yes, everyone is named Ousmane) and watch the pagaille unfold. Apparently Caw Ousmane does not have sharp elbows because he was one of the last to still be trying to get meat.
Dude. The smell of butchered cow is FOUL. I couldn’t stand at the table. I could barely sit back at my friend’s boutique watching. Forget the stench, the bloody parts, the hide, the kids hitting each other with the dead cow’s tail, people walking away with its feet, women coming up with entrails in their hands asking Ousmane the Boutiquier for a bag to put them in…GROSS. And on top of all that the sickening smell.
So anyway Caw Ousmane had to go pray and I didn’t know if he ended up getting any meat but when Aissatu Bah brought me rice and sauce in the evening, there was beef in it so I guess he did.
Anyway I gave the family 5 Fantas (3x the cost of the kilo of beef), a liter goblet full of candies (WWF gum complete with temporary tattoos in the wrappers, lollipops, toffees) and a pot of popcorn. They thought the popcorn was HELLA doux and wanted me to teach them how to make it. I can, it’s easy, but the corn they grow here isn’t sweet corn so it isn’t exactly the same, but it’s something.
So I did the Attaya thing while they ate their bon-bons and then when it started to rain had to run home to get my solar charger out of harm’s way and then Aissatu brought me rice and sauce (but it was soup sauce so it was Yogi who enjoyed it) and we sat on my porch awhile talking while we had the hardest rain we’ve had in awhile and I filled my buckets. When it waned a little I loaned her my rainjacket to run home in and then went out and took my bath, which ended up being in the rain. Since it was raining and getting my hair wet I just washed my hair (hadn’t done that for almost 2 weeks!). Then I put on music and did a bunch of chores till Bella came over to go to the dance.
We went and got Aissatu Bah and Hoodia found us on the road. It was like the last time I went (all kids) because we were early and it was raining. But I don’t mind the kids because they’ll dance with me if I take their hands and originally we were up on the raised part where the DJ is but when we went to sit down I had a sudden urge to run into the main crowd and make kids dance with me. So I did. It was crazy. Once I got down there, a circle formed around me, everyone wanting to see what the white girl was doing. So I danced with some kids like that before my friends pulled me away. Dude some of those little kids can DANCE. And have really cute clothes. Like cute white shirts that glow in the blacklight.
Anyway my friends were spent by like 10:30 which I found shocking so I went home even though I was ready for more.
And now I sleep.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
The REAL Truth About Ousmane II
So today Ousmane II came over with his friend (can’t conjure his name but I know his face and he was the one who brought the exterminator over and he has been friends with Ousmane II since they were kids [his name is Bella]). Ousmane II was troubled, to be sure. He informed me that when he had borrowed my phone yesterday and hiked up the mountain and talked to his family members, basically it had come down that he is obliged to go through with this marriage.
Here’s the story. So his mom lives here in my village and “vraiment”, she is old. Ousmane II is her youngest child. Evidently the others have not come through for her. She needs help around the house. It’s women who help around the house. If Ousmane II takes a wife from this village, she will be obliged to help his mom at the house. I do not doubt she needs the help. So basically, Ousmane II is obliged to accept this proposal because his poor mom needs someone there and none of his other siblings have provided this help (although there appear to be at least two twenty-to-thirty year old women living there plus a couple of younger men [like teens]). I ask if he is going to stay here, then, after the marriage (which will happen in the next 2 months). He says no…he is still going to leave the country.
WHAT IS THE POINT OF THE MARRIAGE??? Basically it is like contracting free labor. In the States we would hire a nurse or find someone who wanted free room and board in exchange for helping around the house. Here you TAKE A WIFE to fulfill this role. But the husband is IN NO WAY obliged to stick around at all. He’s gotta send her money, support her financially, but be around? No way. I spend a lot of time on my porch as Ousmane II is sitting there with my face in my hands, smiling sadly, shaking my head, and they want to know what I’m thinking and not only is it difficult to explain in French, it’s difficult to explain culturally because they do NOT understand the idea of LOVE. Of all-encompassing, earth-shattering, mind-opening, body-overtaking LOVE and I have NO IDEA how to explain it. I don’t even know that it ever happens here!
I know he wants more. And then Lundi and a friend showed up at my house (first time she has been here) and Ousmane II looked very malcontent about this indeed. I did my best to seem cheerful and told her I needed her to make me a complet for the wedding and brought out my two big fabrics (enough fabric for a whole complet, anyway) and asked which was more “jolie” (literally, beautiful but also, appropriate) and they picked the dark blue one with the cracked footprints on it and I said I would either sketch her what I wanted or find a complet of someone’s to use as a model. She was agreeable.
When they left, Ousmane II did his duty and walked them to the gate and said some words and when he came back looked thoroughly troubled and it came out that he did not know how they tracked him to my house but then his friend (Bella) said he had told them he was coming here before they left for my house and told them they should join them and Ousmane II relaxed a little.
It makes me want to scream. I try to explain to them why I find it awful. That if someone’s parents told them they had to marry someone in the States, the person would be like, “NO! It’s my life!” Parents don’t have control like that. But there is just more at work here. This is certainly not America.
There is no McDonald’s. That sounds really stupid, but I’m not talking about the food or the convenience (we have fast food, it’s called rice bars). What I mean is that you can’t just get a job like THAT. I know, I worked at McDonald’s. Anyone can get a job there. You might screw it up and get fired, but you can get a job. And little by little save money and little by little make your way to doing what you want to do. WE HAVE NO IDEA how easy this is for us in the States. In the States there is NO REASON that someone with the will should not make their way. None at all. Nothing stands before you, my friends. Go out there and conquer the world. Or at least the city you live in, because in America anyone can do it. And now I truly understand The American Dream. And why everyone would want to have it.
And while I mourn for my friend, at the same time it is literally just like conscripting hired help. Because in Guinea you can have 4 wives. And he is still going to leave the country. So when it comes down to it, by doing this marriage he will help his mom, but it doesn’t ACTUALLY hold him down at all. He can still go to Cote d’Ivoire or wherever and if he ever has the lucky chance to actually fall in love, he can still do that. So in a way he actually might kind of be fortunate. Not the way we are fortunate in the States. But fortunate enough that someday he might find happiness. And maybe that will be enough. Now if only Lundi had the same options.
Here’s the story. So his mom lives here in my village and “vraiment”, she is old. Ousmane II is her youngest child. Evidently the others have not come through for her. She needs help around the house. It’s women who help around the house. If Ousmane II takes a wife from this village, she will be obliged to help his mom at the house. I do not doubt she needs the help. So basically, Ousmane II is obliged to accept this proposal because his poor mom needs someone there and none of his other siblings have provided this help (although there appear to be at least two twenty-to-thirty year old women living there plus a couple of younger men [like teens]). I ask if he is going to stay here, then, after the marriage (which will happen in the next 2 months). He says no…he is still going to leave the country.
WHAT IS THE POINT OF THE MARRIAGE??? Basically it is like contracting free labor. In the States we would hire a nurse or find someone who wanted free room and board in exchange for helping around the house. Here you TAKE A WIFE to fulfill this role. But the husband is IN NO WAY obliged to stick around at all. He’s gotta send her money, support her financially, but be around? No way. I spend a lot of time on my porch as Ousmane II is sitting there with my face in my hands, smiling sadly, shaking my head, and they want to know what I’m thinking and not only is it difficult to explain in French, it’s difficult to explain culturally because they do NOT understand the idea of LOVE. Of all-encompassing, earth-shattering, mind-opening, body-overtaking LOVE and I have NO IDEA how to explain it. I don’t even know that it ever happens here!
I know he wants more. And then Lundi and a friend showed up at my house (first time she has been here) and Ousmane II looked very malcontent about this indeed. I did my best to seem cheerful and told her I needed her to make me a complet for the wedding and brought out my two big fabrics (enough fabric for a whole complet, anyway) and asked which was more “jolie” (literally, beautiful but also, appropriate) and they picked the dark blue one with the cracked footprints on it and I said I would either sketch her what I wanted or find a complet of someone’s to use as a model. She was agreeable.
When they left, Ousmane II did his duty and walked them to the gate and said some words and when he came back looked thoroughly troubled and it came out that he did not know how they tracked him to my house but then his friend (Bella) said he had told them he was coming here before they left for my house and told them they should join them and Ousmane II relaxed a little.
It makes me want to scream. I try to explain to them why I find it awful. That if someone’s parents told them they had to marry someone in the States, the person would be like, “NO! It’s my life!” Parents don’t have control like that. But there is just more at work here. This is certainly not America.
There is no McDonald’s. That sounds really stupid, but I’m not talking about the food or the convenience (we have fast food, it’s called rice bars). What I mean is that you can’t just get a job like THAT. I know, I worked at McDonald’s. Anyone can get a job there. You might screw it up and get fired, but you can get a job. And little by little save money and little by little make your way to doing what you want to do. WE HAVE NO IDEA how easy this is for us in the States. In the States there is NO REASON that someone with the will should not make their way. None at all. Nothing stands before you, my friends. Go out there and conquer the world. Or at least the city you live in, because in America anyone can do it. And now I truly understand The American Dream. And why everyone would want to have it.
And while I mourn for my friend, at the same time it is literally just like conscripting hired help. Because in Guinea you can have 4 wives. And he is still going to leave the country. So when it comes down to it, by doing this marriage he will help his mom, but it doesn’t ACTUALLY hold him down at all. He can still go to Cote d’Ivoire or wherever and if he ever has the lucky chance to actually fall in love, he can still do that. So in a way he actually might kind of be fortunate. Not the way we are fortunate in the States. But fortunate enough that someday he might find happiness. And maybe that will be enough. Now if only Lundi had the same options.
Saturday, September 19, 2009
The Truth About Ousmane II
So I had a dream last night that Ousmane II came over to my house and I was like (in French): “Oh, do you have something you want to tell me?” And I can’t remember how the rest of the dream went but I don’t think it was pleasant.
Today, this morning, as if right out of my dream he shows up on my porch. I open the screen door, holding Yogi by the bandanna that is his collar and I say, “Oh, is there something you want to tell me?” He smiles guiltily (or maybe it’s bewildered?) in the way he sometimes smiles and I think it MUST be true and either during the night or very early this morning someone told him that I was a bit on the warpath and he has come to “m’inform” as “bientot” as is polite. Turns out my poor friend Ousmane II is in a lot of distress.
I mean, I thought it was weird when Aissatu told me he had gone to ask a village girl to marry him because I KNOW he has bigger plans and it turns out my instincts were right.
Ousmane II was very troubled. After the first smiles he did not smile again as we sat on the porch. He had actually come over to borrow my phone (as he often does) so he can hike hours up a mountain to make a phone call. He wants to make a phone call because of the following: it was not he who asked Lundi to marry him but actually Lundi’s family who went to Ousmane II’s family to propose the union (this is how rumors get started). Ousmane II’s family is receptive to the idea as they have been pestering him to find a first wife since he is getting old (he is 23). However he has no money, no job, no bride-price and a yearning for MORE which is the strongest deterrent of all.
I felt SO BAD for him as we sat there on my porch. Usually we are very talkative but I had nothing to say. I have never dealt with arranged marriages before. I can’t even really CONCIEVE of the idea. He was pleading with me for advice and all I could say was that I had to think about it.
Then he started saying he was going to “voyager” (go away), and I was like, “to Conakry?” And he was like, “no, to another country.” And I said he would have to go somewhere where they speak French because if he wants to get anywhere he has to at least speak the national language. So we start brainstorming African countries that speak French (never before would the internet have been more useful). Senegal, Mali, Cote d’Ivoire (uh, Ivory Coast), Morocco, Nigeria, Niger, Benin, Togo, Cameroon – there are several countries we wonder about but don’t know what language they speak like Equatorial Guinea and Angola. We rule out Mozambique because they speak Portuguese (I know this from my “Nominee Dinner” in LA – girl sitting at my table was headed to Mozambique and was learning Portuguese…plus Solana [volunteer here] was offered a third year spot in Mozambique and will have to learn Portuguese if he accepts it).
In my heart I want to tell him that if he has a stout heart he should stay in Guinea and try to make a change. But it just seems so HOPELESS. You need a MOVEMENT, and a movement of strong-willed people with influence and money (sad to say) and numbers behind them to really affect change in a place like this (#9 on the Failed States Index). What I finally admit is that if someone is content to make a life here just building a couple of huts and maybe a house (not the way an American would think of a house) and working the land to get food and making Attaya all day and having a family that will also probably never leave the village, one can do well here. If you have no greater aspirations of leaving the village and having a “more interesting” life, you can definitely live in Guinea without problems. But if you want to DO something, if you want to GO places…it’s not like the US.
In the US anyone can get a job. Even if it’s McDonald’s anyone can get a job. And you can save your money, and pull yourself up by your bootstraps and ACHIEVE YOUR DREAMS, no matter what they are – if there’s a will, there’s a way.
I have this horrible, cold, sinking feeling for my friend Ousmane II. He would have to be EXCEPTIONAL, incredibly smart, cunning, creative, to get out of this place and even achieve what even the LAZIEST American has just by birthright and it makes me want to SCREAM. I have no advice for my friend. I mean, I guess, learn English. That can slowly get you places somewhere like this. You could work for an NGO or for Peace Corps and maybe go to university and get a grad school scholarship in France or England. But Ousmane II never finished high school (though his French is strong and his mind inquisitive).
I don’t want this for him. HE doesn’t want this for him. And I have NO ADVICE. And it is driving me crazy. More than ever I want to DO SOMETHING and I have nothing I can do. And to make it worse he has always counted on my advice. And yet I remain silent.
As they say…”la vie est dificil aux Guinea.”
The 8 ball said I will not be able to help him, that he will not marry Lundi, that he will leave Guinea and he will be happy wherever he goes. The 8 ball knows all.
Today, this morning, as if right out of my dream he shows up on my porch. I open the screen door, holding Yogi by the bandanna that is his collar and I say, “Oh, is there something you want to tell me?” He smiles guiltily (or maybe it’s bewildered?) in the way he sometimes smiles and I think it MUST be true and either during the night or very early this morning someone told him that I was a bit on the warpath and he has come to “m’inform” as “bientot” as is polite. Turns out my poor friend Ousmane II is in a lot of distress.
I mean, I thought it was weird when Aissatu told me he had gone to ask a village girl to marry him because I KNOW he has bigger plans and it turns out my instincts were right.
Ousmane II was very troubled. After the first smiles he did not smile again as we sat on the porch. He had actually come over to borrow my phone (as he often does) so he can hike hours up a mountain to make a phone call. He wants to make a phone call because of the following: it was not he who asked Lundi to marry him but actually Lundi’s family who went to Ousmane II’s family to propose the union (this is how rumors get started). Ousmane II’s family is receptive to the idea as they have been pestering him to find a first wife since he is getting old (he is 23). However he has no money, no job, no bride-price and a yearning for MORE which is the strongest deterrent of all.
I felt SO BAD for him as we sat there on my porch. Usually we are very talkative but I had nothing to say. I have never dealt with arranged marriages before. I can’t even really CONCIEVE of the idea. He was pleading with me for advice and all I could say was that I had to think about it.
Then he started saying he was going to “voyager” (go away), and I was like, “to Conakry?” And he was like, “no, to another country.” And I said he would have to go somewhere where they speak French because if he wants to get anywhere he has to at least speak the national language. So we start brainstorming African countries that speak French (never before would the internet have been more useful). Senegal, Mali, Cote d’Ivoire (uh, Ivory Coast), Morocco, Nigeria, Niger, Benin, Togo, Cameroon – there are several countries we wonder about but don’t know what language they speak like Equatorial Guinea and Angola. We rule out Mozambique because they speak Portuguese (I know this from my “Nominee Dinner” in LA – girl sitting at my table was headed to Mozambique and was learning Portuguese…plus Solana [volunteer here] was offered a third year spot in Mozambique and will have to learn Portuguese if he accepts it).
In my heart I want to tell him that if he has a stout heart he should stay in Guinea and try to make a change. But it just seems so HOPELESS. You need a MOVEMENT, and a movement of strong-willed people with influence and money (sad to say) and numbers behind them to really affect change in a place like this (#9 on the Failed States Index). What I finally admit is that if someone is content to make a life here just building a couple of huts and maybe a house (not the way an American would think of a house) and working the land to get food and making Attaya all day and having a family that will also probably never leave the village, one can do well here. If you have no greater aspirations of leaving the village and having a “more interesting” life, you can definitely live in Guinea without problems. But if you want to DO something, if you want to GO places…it’s not like the US.
In the US anyone can get a job. Even if it’s McDonald’s anyone can get a job. And you can save your money, and pull yourself up by your bootstraps and ACHIEVE YOUR DREAMS, no matter what they are – if there’s a will, there’s a way.
I have this horrible, cold, sinking feeling for my friend Ousmane II. He would have to be EXCEPTIONAL, incredibly smart, cunning, creative, to get out of this place and even achieve what even the LAZIEST American has just by birthright and it makes me want to SCREAM. I have no advice for my friend. I mean, I guess, learn English. That can slowly get you places somewhere like this. You could work for an NGO or for Peace Corps and maybe go to university and get a grad school scholarship in France or England. But Ousmane II never finished high school (though his French is strong and his mind inquisitive).
I don’t want this for him. HE doesn’t want this for him. And I have NO ADVICE. And it is driving me crazy. More than ever I want to DO SOMETHING and I have nothing I can do. And to make it worse he has always counted on my advice. And yet I remain silent.
As they say…”la vie est dificil aux Guinea.”
The 8 ball said I will not be able to help him, that he will not marry Lundi, that he will leave Guinea and he will be happy wherever he goes. The 8 ball knows all.
Friday, September 18, 2009
Ousmane II's Getting Married
So I was not allowed to go to mosque today because I am “unclean” aka I have my period. Wasn’t allowed to pray at all, actually, just sat on the couch while Tanti Aissatu did her prayers. Then ate.
After eating we went back to the house and I had a couple bites of rice with boro-boro sauce but I was already stuffed so mostly I just sat in the circle with grandma and Aissatu Bah. Then AB told me that my friend Ousmane II had married. I freaked out. I was so pissed to not have been invited to the wedding.
Turns out it’s just that he asked the bride’s parents yesterday for her hand in marriage (how effing old-world romantic) and then apparently took off for the Boke area to discuss this with his family members (the ones that don’t live here). He was just in Boke last week. Probably asking them if it was ok to ask her to marry him (as his first wife, anyway). In fact we took a taxi back to our village together from the bigger city to the south and he didn’t say ANYTHING about his plans. Nor did he night before last when he briefly stopped by before prayer time.
Anyway, I will deal with him next time I see him. In a very American offended way. Cultural exchange. I reacted the same way when my American friend John got married without me and NOW is having his ceremony without me which to be honest depresses me very much but hey you can’t expect everyone to put their shit on hold just because you moved to Africa for two years, right?
The bride is to be Lundi (in French, it means Monday – probably the day of the week she was born). She speaks some French. I kinda know her. She is kinda a boisterous personality and I have always liked her. I dunno if she’s exactly who I would have assumed for Ousmane II, but I guess that’s because I always fancied Ousmane II to have a more Western mind (especially after spending so much time with me) and waiting for love rather than family pressure. But honestly I don’t know that people here understand the concept of love the way we Westerners do.
At any rate it’s not a twelve-year-old, nor a timid, submissive type that I don’t really know so in the end I am happy for him if this is what he wants. Could do a LOT worse than Lundi! Lundi is good times! Huzzah!
Apparently Lundi is somewhat of a tailor so I am gonna make her make me an outfit to wear to the marriage of the cloth I have bought and is just sitting around. Aissatu Bah said she is going to do the same.
I told Aissatu she had to go with me to Ousmane II’s house tomorrow to demand an explanation because if he’s gone and if Alpha Conakry is not there, there is not much French to be had. I might relax this plan. But I was pretty much on a warpath earlier. I guess being on the outside of another marriage from someone I would expect to confide in me got to me in a way.
Life isn’t THAT different here, when it comes down to it .
After eating we went back to the house and I had a couple bites of rice with boro-boro sauce but I was already stuffed so mostly I just sat in the circle with grandma and Aissatu Bah. Then AB told me that my friend Ousmane II had married. I freaked out. I was so pissed to not have been invited to the wedding.
Turns out it’s just that he asked the bride’s parents yesterday for her hand in marriage (how effing old-world romantic) and then apparently took off for the Boke area to discuss this with his family members (the ones that don’t live here). He was just in Boke last week. Probably asking them if it was ok to ask her to marry him (as his first wife, anyway). In fact we took a taxi back to our village together from the bigger city to the south and he didn’t say ANYTHING about his plans. Nor did he night before last when he briefly stopped by before prayer time.
Anyway, I will deal with him next time I see him. In a very American offended way. Cultural exchange. I reacted the same way when my American friend John got married without me and NOW is having his ceremony without me which to be honest depresses me very much but hey you can’t expect everyone to put their shit on hold just because you moved to Africa for two years, right?
The bride is to be Lundi (in French, it means Monday – probably the day of the week she was born). She speaks some French. I kinda know her. She is kinda a boisterous personality and I have always liked her. I dunno if she’s exactly who I would have assumed for Ousmane II, but I guess that’s because I always fancied Ousmane II to have a more Western mind (especially after spending so much time with me) and waiting for love rather than family pressure. But honestly I don’t know that people here understand the concept of love the way we Westerners do.
At any rate it’s not a twelve-year-old, nor a timid, submissive type that I don’t really know so in the end I am happy for him if this is what he wants. Could do a LOT worse than Lundi! Lundi is good times! Huzzah!
Apparently Lundi is somewhat of a tailor so I am gonna make her make me an outfit to wear to the marriage of the cloth I have bought and is just sitting around. Aissatu Bah said she is going to do the same.
I told Aissatu she had to go with me to Ousmane II’s house tomorrow to demand an explanation because if he’s gone and if Alpha Conakry is not there, there is not much French to be had. I might relax this plan. But I was pretty much on a warpath earlier. I guess being on the outside of another marriage from someone I would expect to confide in me got to me in a way.
Life isn’t THAT different here, when it comes down to it .
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Yogi Likes Riz Gras...and other food-related adventures
So tonight the rice lady had riz gras! Yogi about flipped. He wasn’t that interested in the rice, but maybe it was because he was full from all the veggies on top. There was manioc, eggplant, bitter eggplant, okra mash and a little piece of fresh fish. At first I thought he was going to leave the okra mash but he ate it! My dog likes vegetables. Is that weird? At one point he was eating so forcefully that he flipped a little splash of piment in his eye (I had removed the piment to prevent an accidental wolfing down of it which would inevitably end in cries of pain). He started dancing around and putting his paw up to his eye. I was burshing my teeth and laughing at him. Is that mean? I’ve had piment in my eye PLENTY of times. It was just funny to see a dog reacting in the same way.
So the fumigator dude is up in Ian’s village today and tomorrow and I’m leaving for Conakry on Saturday so he can’t come get rid of my chicken bugs until I get back, which won’t be until next weekend. Bummer. But hey I’ll have him do it right when I get back and then maybe they’ll be gone! YAY!
So everyone in my village keeps asking me if I am doing the month of Kar’em. I tell everyone, “of course!” with a guilty look on my face and the people who know me better know I am just humoring them. It’s just easier to say you’re doing it and then they’re like, “good!” Cause if you said you weren’t doing it you’d have to spend five minutes explaining why NOT. So it’s just easier. And I AM doing the evening prayer and meal AND going to mosque on Fridays so I’m sort of doing some of it.
I have to meticulously hide any eating I do in my house. It especially sucks because I don’t like to cook in there right now because of all the bugs. So I try to do really simple stuff as fast as I can and just not think about the bugs swimming in my tomato sauce and eat quickly before they descend on my plate. Today I made a pretty good tomato sauce without a recipe. It always comes out too oily. I use too much oil when sautéing the garlic and onions. And it would be awesome to add mushrooms into the mix. Next time I just have to remember to drain the oil before putting in the water and tomato paste. And the other day I made a salmon-onion-mayonnaise sandwich (thanks for the salmon, dad!!). It was way better than I thought it was going to be.
I saluer-ed Ian’s friend in the market today and like everyone else he asked if I was doing Kar’em and I said “of course!” And he asked if I was praying and I said yes. And he said how many times a day? I said once and twice on Fridays. And he gave me this superior look and said, “Ousmane Bah is praying THREE times a day!” EFF YOU IAN .
So today I was talking to my friend Ousmane II because I wanted to know if he was going to go back to Conakry on Saturday or not. He borrowed my phone and hiked for hours the other day to get service and said that everything was ready for him in Conakry so he could go. But he doesn’t have money for the transport. So it turned into this whole discussion and what really turns out is going on is that he has been waiting for this dude that said he was going to lend him some money to start “reselling” (which is how LOTS of people make their money here, I mean it’s basically what all the boutiques do, let alone the guys who resell gas out of liter gin bottles on the side of the road), but the dude keeps saying, “wait.”
He says he wants to go to Conakry just for the week like me and “get affairs in order”. I tell him this is a stupid idea. He would be wasting 3x the money on transport if he did this because instead of paying just once, to get back to Conakry, he’d have to pay twice to get to Conakry and once to get back to the village. I told him he should not go back to Conakry until he can go back to stay. He had NEVER realized how much money it would waste to do it his way, all he thought about was that there were people in Conakry he could get (borrow?) the money from.
Then I told him he should stop waiting for this dude who says he is going to lend him money because let’s face it, he probably isn’t, and even if he does, who wants to be beholden to someone else? I tell him that in the US, if we can’t find work doing exactly what we want to do at any given time, YOU STILL WORK. You find whatever way you can to make money while you are waiting. I teach him the phrase, “time is money.” He seems to understand that. I tell him he can keep waiting for this guy to come up with the money but while he’s waiting, why doesn’t he MAKE SOME OF HIS OWN money. This thought has never occurred to him before. That even if it is “petite a petite”, any money you make while you are waiting is still putting you ahead, even if it’s only a few mille. Why waste your time waiting? He is having a freaking epiphany.
Then we start to talk about some ways he can make money. The first thing I bring up is Ian’s coffee scheme, in that people grow coffee in terrace lines on the mountainsides, which will help their rice, harvest the coffee and ship it up the road to the market just inside Senegal where they can sell it for BANK. Because Senegal is on the CFA, and let’s face it, is in a lot better shape than Guinea, and coffee is in high demand up there. I tell him even if he doesn’t have the time to grow the coffee and set up business like that, he can just go to the bigger city south of us, buy coffee from farmers there, take it up to Senegal and still make a ridiculous profit simply transporting and reselling coffee. Yeah, he’d make a LOT more money if he was growing the coffee, but a shorter term moneymaker would be in just the reselling.
The other things I suggest is stuff he can do in Conakry, like the transforming and repackaging of products like making jam and dried fruit, which he could sell for big profits during the no-fruit seasons (like right now). I also tell him he could work in the village with the builders or carpenters or fence-makers and gain that skill then go back to Conakry where he can make more money doing that very thing, a recommendation letter from his boss in hand. This has never occurred to him either.
Basically I tell him not to just sit around and wait for something to fall into his lap, which is what I feel is a lot of the problem with poverty and development in Africa. People are just waiting for something to fall into their laps and it doesn’t work like that. Unfortunately many of the NGOs who work here operate in just this manner: they just give stuff away without making sure it’s really needed or really sustainable and it’s bred this plague of an attitude that if you just sit around doing nothing for long enough, Allah will provide. If Guinea keeps going on like this, they’ll never pull themselves out of poverty. And that’s the whole point: they need to pull THEMSELVES out, not wait for a lifeline from some faceless outsider. But I guess there are some Guineans you just have to TELL that to and then they finally understand. Like my friend Ousmane II. After our discussion today I think he is really motivated to get off his butt and make some money so that he can have what he calls “a real life”. More power to him. I hope he inspires others. That would make it sustainable .
So the fumigator dude is up in Ian’s village today and tomorrow and I’m leaving for Conakry on Saturday so he can’t come get rid of my chicken bugs until I get back, which won’t be until next weekend. Bummer. But hey I’ll have him do it right when I get back and then maybe they’ll be gone! YAY!
So everyone in my village keeps asking me if I am doing the month of Kar’em. I tell everyone, “of course!” with a guilty look on my face and the people who know me better know I am just humoring them. It’s just easier to say you’re doing it and then they’re like, “good!” Cause if you said you weren’t doing it you’d have to spend five minutes explaining why NOT. So it’s just easier. And I AM doing the evening prayer and meal AND going to mosque on Fridays so I’m sort of doing some of it.
I have to meticulously hide any eating I do in my house. It especially sucks because I don’t like to cook in there right now because of all the bugs. So I try to do really simple stuff as fast as I can and just not think about the bugs swimming in my tomato sauce and eat quickly before they descend on my plate. Today I made a pretty good tomato sauce without a recipe. It always comes out too oily. I use too much oil when sautéing the garlic and onions. And it would be awesome to add mushrooms into the mix. Next time I just have to remember to drain the oil before putting in the water and tomato paste. And the other day I made a salmon-onion-mayonnaise sandwich (thanks for the salmon, dad!!). It was way better than I thought it was going to be.
I saluer-ed Ian’s friend in the market today and like everyone else he asked if I was doing Kar’em and I said “of course!” And he asked if I was praying and I said yes. And he said how many times a day? I said once and twice on Fridays. And he gave me this superior look and said, “Ousmane Bah is praying THREE times a day!” EFF YOU IAN .
So today I was talking to my friend Ousmane II because I wanted to know if he was going to go back to Conakry on Saturday or not. He borrowed my phone and hiked for hours the other day to get service and said that everything was ready for him in Conakry so he could go. But he doesn’t have money for the transport. So it turned into this whole discussion and what really turns out is going on is that he has been waiting for this dude that said he was going to lend him some money to start “reselling” (which is how LOTS of people make their money here, I mean it’s basically what all the boutiques do, let alone the guys who resell gas out of liter gin bottles on the side of the road), but the dude keeps saying, “wait.”
He says he wants to go to Conakry just for the week like me and “get affairs in order”. I tell him this is a stupid idea. He would be wasting 3x the money on transport if he did this because instead of paying just once, to get back to Conakry, he’d have to pay twice to get to Conakry and once to get back to the village. I told him he should not go back to Conakry until he can go back to stay. He had NEVER realized how much money it would waste to do it his way, all he thought about was that there were people in Conakry he could get (borrow?) the money from.
Then I told him he should stop waiting for this dude who says he is going to lend him money because let’s face it, he probably isn’t, and even if he does, who wants to be beholden to someone else? I tell him that in the US, if we can’t find work doing exactly what we want to do at any given time, YOU STILL WORK. You find whatever way you can to make money while you are waiting. I teach him the phrase, “time is money.” He seems to understand that. I tell him he can keep waiting for this guy to come up with the money but while he’s waiting, why doesn’t he MAKE SOME OF HIS OWN money. This thought has never occurred to him before. That even if it is “petite a petite”, any money you make while you are waiting is still putting you ahead, even if it’s only a few mille. Why waste your time waiting? He is having a freaking epiphany.
Then we start to talk about some ways he can make money. The first thing I bring up is Ian’s coffee scheme, in that people grow coffee in terrace lines on the mountainsides, which will help their rice, harvest the coffee and ship it up the road to the market just inside Senegal where they can sell it for BANK. Because Senegal is on the CFA, and let’s face it, is in a lot better shape than Guinea, and coffee is in high demand up there. I tell him even if he doesn’t have the time to grow the coffee and set up business like that, he can just go to the bigger city south of us, buy coffee from farmers there, take it up to Senegal and still make a ridiculous profit simply transporting and reselling coffee. Yeah, he’d make a LOT more money if he was growing the coffee, but a shorter term moneymaker would be in just the reselling.
The other things I suggest is stuff he can do in Conakry, like the transforming and repackaging of products like making jam and dried fruit, which he could sell for big profits during the no-fruit seasons (like right now). I also tell him he could work in the village with the builders or carpenters or fence-makers and gain that skill then go back to Conakry where he can make more money doing that very thing, a recommendation letter from his boss in hand. This has never occurred to him either.
Basically I tell him not to just sit around and wait for something to fall into his lap, which is what I feel is a lot of the problem with poverty and development in Africa. People are just waiting for something to fall into their laps and it doesn’t work like that. Unfortunately many of the NGOs who work here operate in just this manner: they just give stuff away without making sure it’s really needed or really sustainable and it’s bred this plague of an attitude that if you just sit around doing nothing for long enough, Allah will provide. If Guinea keeps going on like this, they’ll never pull themselves out of poverty. And that’s the whole point: they need to pull THEMSELVES out, not wait for a lifeline from some faceless outsider. But I guess there are some Guineans you just have to TELL that to and then they finally understand. Like my friend Ousmane II. After our discussion today I think he is really motivated to get off his butt and make some money so that he can have what he calls “a real life”. More power to him. I hope he inspires others. That would make it sustainable .
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Ode to Petzl
Petzl – you make one HELL of a headlamp!! I couldn’t find my headlamp for two days so thought it somehow got stolen though I couldn’t figure out how. Then I was hauling a dirty bucket of water outside and VOILA – floating just under the surface: my headlamp. Apparently Yogi had knocked it off the back of the couch and that’s where it landed. And stayed for two days.
So after two days submerged in dirty water, I’m thinking – this headlamp is done for. It was totally waterlogged and the batteries had even started to rust in the battery compartment. But I thought, “what the hell” and put it out in the sun to dry out anyway. And then I stuck some new batteries in it AND IT TURNED ON!! I couldn’t believe it. Still can’t.
So next time I’m at internet I am gonna log onto the REI website and write a rave review of my beloved headlamp. Two days submerged in water and still working good as new? Quality purchase.
So after two days submerged in dirty water, I’m thinking – this headlamp is done for. It was totally waterlogged and the batteries had even started to rust in the battery compartment. But I thought, “what the hell” and put it out in the sun to dry out anyway. And then I stuck some new batteries in it AND IT TURNED ON!! I couldn’t believe it. Still can’t.
So next time I’m at internet I am gonna log onto the REI website and write a rave review of my beloved headlamp. Two days submerged in water and still working good as new? Quality purchase.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Bug Mystery Solved...I Hope
I can’t believe it’s already September! When time passed in the States I didn’t really notice it but here it’s like every time you flip a new calendar page there are new birthdays to write down! New holidays! New Mondays to write “M” on, meaning I need to take my Mefloquine. New travel days to note. It’s kind of exciting.
Anyway. On to the bugs. Two people have now told me they came from my chicken. DAMN YOU MERYL!!! She is not living here anymore but the fact that the bugs have been here SINCE Meryl was living here turns my stomach. Today when I get up Alysun comes over (turns out he is the half-brother [same mom] of the dude who built my house and then mysteriously died) and I put together a bucket of dirty clothes, eat some oatmeal (send me more instant oatmeal!) and then spray ¾ of the “Insect Killer” can throughout my whole house (all doors and windows closed). Alysun goes to the Carrefour to shoot the shit while I am getting ready but I finish so I watch the carpenters (brick layers?) who are building next door as they come over to take some of the pile of sand that sits in my yard. Yogi barks. I yell at Yogi.
Alysun comes back and meticulously folds all my dirty clothes before we finally leave for the creek. We go to HIS creek…the one close to his house, which is kinda far, instead of the closest one to MY house which is Balla Bappo but requires traversing down a big mountain with a not-exactly-bien-fait path.
Anyway. We get to the creek. Yogi hates water and doesn’t want to go across but Alysun forces him. I’m like, “Yogi you’re getting wet anyway cause I’m gonna wash you!” In the back of my mind I hope there are no snails in the creek so I don’t get schisto (Chris-Heijn recently had schisto). It’s utterly curable but having any illness here is a pain.
So I wash all my underwear while Alysun washes all my other stuff. I am useless at washing clothes here and if I have to do it I do it in private so people don’t laugh at me.
I bathe Yogi, which is more like, I wrestle Yogi in a creek, but he gets wet and gets soap on him so that’ll do (that’s kinda my philosophy on washing my clothes, too…hmmm….)
Anyway when I get home the bugs are still going strong. I make all kinds of valiant efforts over the next couple of days, removing all food and dishes from the house, baking them in the sun, two more bug bombings. The can says it should be able to successfully knock out 80 rooms. I used the whole can. I have two rooms. Bugs STILL going strong. All I have managed to kill are several crickets whom I found in their death throes and gave mercy stomps to.
So apparently there is a fumigator dude. And he can come to your house and spray and in 30 minutes everything is dead. I wonder how much this costs. But I will pay it, I am so sick of these bugs. And as an added benefit, it’ll kill any other unwanted bugs currently shacking up chez moi. I wonder if it will kill the mice, too. I am sick of them. I can’t kill them myself because unlike bugs they won’t die quick and I HATE watching things in their death throes. Today I tried to lock one of the mice out. I saw him heading out the back door so I stuffed a cloth under it and have vigilantly guarded it whenever I have to go outside. He probably has several ways in, though. I remember when my mice were not bothersome. What happened to the good old days? I think they got spoiled.
Anyway. On to the bugs. Two people have now told me they came from my chicken. DAMN YOU MERYL!!! She is not living here anymore but the fact that the bugs have been here SINCE Meryl was living here turns my stomach. Today when I get up Alysun comes over (turns out he is the half-brother [same mom] of the dude who built my house and then mysteriously died) and I put together a bucket of dirty clothes, eat some oatmeal (send me more instant oatmeal!) and then spray ¾ of the “Insect Killer” can throughout my whole house (all doors and windows closed). Alysun goes to the Carrefour to shoot the shit while I am getting ready but I finish so I watch the carpenters (brick layers?) who are building next door as they come over to take some of the pile of sand that sits in my yard. Yogi barks. I yell at Yogi.
Alysun comes back and meticulously folds all my dirty clothes before we finally leave for the creek. We go to HIS creek…the one close to his house, which is kinda far, instead of the closest one to MY house which is Balla Bappo but requires traversing down a big mountain with a not-exactly-bien-fait path.
Anyway. We get to the creek. Yogi hates water and doesn’t want to go across but Alysun forces him. I’m like, “Yogi you’re getting wet anyway cause I’m gonna wash you!” In the back of my mind I hope there are no snails in the creek so I don’t get schisto (Chris-Heijn recently had schisto). It’s utterly curable but having any illness here is a pain.
So I wash all my underwear while Alysun washes all my other stuff. I am useless at washing clothes here and if I have to do it I do it in private so people don’t laugh at me.
I bathe Yogi, which is more like, I wrestle Yogi in a creek, but he gets wet and gets soap on him so that’ll do (that’s kinda my philosophy on washing my clothes, too…hmmm….)
Anyway when I get home the bugs are still going strong. I make all kinds of valiant efforts over the next couple of days, removing all food and dishes from the house, baking them in the sun, two more bug bombings. The can says it should be able to successfully knock out 80 rooms. I used the whole can. I have two rooms. Bugs STILL going strong. All I have managed to kill are several crickets whom I found in their death throes and gave mercy stomps to.
So apparently there is a fumigator dude. And he can come to your house and spray and in 30 minutes everything is dead. I wonder how much this costs. But I will pay it, I am so sick of these bugs. And as an added benefit, it’ll kill any other unwanted bugs currently shacking up chez moi. I wonder if it will kill the mice, too. I am sick of them. I can’t kill them myself because unlike bugs they won’t die quick and I HATE watching things in their death throes. Today I tried to lock one of the mice out. I saw him heading out the back door so I stuffed a cloth under it and have vigilantly guarded it whenever I have to go outside. He probably has several ways in, though. I remember when my mice were not bothersome. What happened to the good old days? I think they got spoiled.
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