In Summary

Out with the old and in with the new, or so they say. I am not really sure anything that happened to me in 2013 can be classified as the same old, same old. If I condense 2013 into a sequence of events, I get a pretty incredible and almost unbelieveable result.
In March I got invited to serve in Guinea, and the acceptance of that invitation was followed by a myriad of doctors visits, shots, and infinite paperwork. In May I graduated from college which is something you only do once (when it comes to bachelor's at least). After college, I went on a once-in-a-lifetime trip to Cuba where I experienced for the first time the juxtaposition of a gorgeous, lucious landscape and the desperate and poverty stricken people who live there. And suddenly it was July. All of the preparation, packing, and saying goodbyes came to an end and I flew to Philly to meet the people I'd spend the next two years of my life with. July 4th I stepped off that plane still not believing I was in Africa. From there, I spent three months in training that at the time seemed brutal, endless, and left me convinced I couldn't teach math in French. By mid September, I became a full fledged PCV and said goodbye to 15 of the 16 I'd met in Philly. I spent the next three months in my village never sure if I'd even be able to stay there because of potential election problems. Once that was over with, school got off to a very slow start. I was terrified to teach my 100+ students and was still convinced I'd be a horrible teacher.
Now suddenly it's January and I realize I've been in Africa for 6 months. I spent half of that in a remote village with a language I don't speak, making friends with children. I've survived three months of teaching, and don't feel too nervous about the upcoming months.
2013 was by far the most interesting, fun, stress-filled, and crazy year I've ever had. I feel like I've grown as a person and I've definitely gained a lot of grit be it climbing a mountain, being sick day-in and day-out, or being screamed at on a daily basis. My only New Years resolution is to stay positive. Life here, or anywhere for that matter, is really hard even at it's best, but if I keep reminding myself why I am here and work towards accomplishing that, I don't see any reason why 2014 will be any less exciting than 2013. I can't wait to see what the new year has to bring...what will you do with it?

Changing of Seasons

I've never appreciated the changing of seasons until now. Even after 3 years in Atlanta, I didn't mis the cold or the snow. Here it is December and around 100 degrees. I never saw the leaves change color and fall, I never saw the frost or the snow. Seasons do change here, but not to the extent I'm used to. The changing of seasons makes us realize that time is going by. We can measure how far we've come, and how much we need to do before they change again. Maybe that's why I have had such a hard time realizing I've been here 6 months already. I left America in July and it's been summer ever since. Will I feel that way next year? Will it feel like a few months rather than I whole year? No hats, no gloves, no complaining about how cold I am, no hearing Christmas music everywhere I go. Not knowing how to measure the passing of time, not realizing I'm missing so much in the United States. Until I spent Thanksgiving here in Guinea, I always considered holidays over-rated. I realize now that I'm really going to miss Christmas. Gathering with the family around the fir, and every other cliché that's now a part of Christmas; I'll miss it! Sometimes I wonder if I'm here just so that I'll learn to appreciate everything when I come back for good.
Well, if you know my family, give them a hug for me because I know they miss me just as much as I miss them. If you don't know my family (you should), give someone in your own family a hug and tell them how much you love them. Merry Christmas and to all a goodnight!

Life, Death, and Extortion - Part 2

Part 2 - Extortion

How are you supposed to live everyday surrounded by people pretending to be your friend but are instead trying to squeeze as much money out of you as they can? I've gotta say, I took it really hard when I found out just how much my neighbors have been attempting to get out of me. I know this happens all around the world, but at least most people simply extort you without pretending to be your friend. At this point, you are probably a little confused, so I'll back up.
In order for a community to receive a Peace Corps volunteer, they must be willing to pay for the volunteers housing. It can be the school paying for it, the community paying for it, or as in my case, a group of wealthier people in my community who realize why I'm in Africa and who are 100% convinced my presence is helping their children paying for it. So, once the paying party decides on a house, Peace Corps comes by and either approves or disapproves the house. In my case, it took three houses before Peace Corps said yes. It turns out they were saving the best for last. Well for the last people who lived here (who was here simply to learn their language) they charged 30 000 GNF per month, meaning the standard rate for a Guinean is probably 15 000 GNF. It is typical that prices are doubled for white people (here in PC we call it the special foté price). I wish I was joking, but I've had shopkeepers give the real price to the people both before and after me, but demand that I pay a higher and completely made up price!
So anyway, after my moving here, all of my neighbors had a meeting and it turns out they are charging 150 000 GNF (that's five times the last price if you aren't good at math) for me to live here because they think I have money and should therefore have to pay that absurd amount. The group that pays for me tried to get them to lower it by explaining that I'm here of my own free will, as a volunteer, and that they couldn't even hope to pay me back for what I'm doing here. Again, they refused saying that because I'm white and have a few nice things, I need to pay 150 000. So then the group proceeds to tell them that I'm not even the one paying for my housing! ...and the neighbors still refused to lower the price they were demanding. Now these people are stuck wasting 120 000 GNF a month just to keep me here. Their rational is that it's worth it just to keep me here. And maybe it is, but it's still not right! It's not even like I go around flaunting my wealth. The guy before me made the house as first worth as possible and even had electricity every day. Here I am, not only without electricity, but I'm wearing their clothes and taking every opportunity to help their children. All in all, the situation has left me really angry with my neighbors who continue to “be-friend” me, looking for new ways to get money off me. Thank goodness my school board believes in me, or I'd already be on a plane back home. They truly understand that life here isn't easy and that I can call Conakry any time I want and leave for good the following day.
I just can't wrap my head around the fact that my neighbors are robbing these people using my skin color to excuse extortion, and all from people they've known their whole lives.

Life, Death, and Extortion - Part 1

Life, Death, and Extortion

Life, death, and extortion. As I'm sure you know, all of these are pretty heavy topics, so I figured I'd spread them out over the course of 2 weeks.

Part 1 - Life and Death

Life and death. Baptisms and funerals. Over the span of 24 hours I've observed both in my village. I am an observer of so many things here, the majority of which I don't understand
Funerals: This past week, the father of one of my students passed away. The class was informed during one of my tests and were asked to give money to the family of the deceased. Even though I don't know the student well and didn't know the father at all, I felt obligated to go pay my respects. When I arrived, there was a group of men all sitting, talking and eating next to the house where the body was. Across the road, there was a group of women doing the same thing and here I am, white and neither man nor woman in their eyes, so they set me up in a chair, in the middle of both groups. Thankfully it wasn't long before others from school arrived and sat around me. At first I was amazed by how much it mirrored everyday life, aside from the screams of both men and women coming from inside the house. People were sitting around talking and eating. Then, everyone (with the noted exception of the biology teacher and myself) gathered in and around the mosque to do what I can only assume were the funeral rites. They prayed and then the imam sang and chanted. Then all the men followed the corpse to where it was going to be buried. I don't know where because women aren't allowed to be there. As the corpse was carried away, the women threw themselves onto the ground making sounds that scared me. I can't imagine how the kids felt. And then, it was over. People dusted themselves off and started to return to their houses as if nothing had happened. This is one of the rare things I've seen people do both quickly and efficiently. With the heat they can't afford to waste time before burying the body, so everything happens the day after the death. They are mourned, they are buried. Death has always been a part of life, but here it just seems to happen way too often due to sickness, diseases, and accidents. It's something they've had years to get used it.
Baptisms: I'm not sure how old babies are when they are baptized, but they sure throw a huge party when it happens. Everyone wears their nicest, and there is lots of singing, dancing, and eating. A band of women just danced down the street, shouting into megaphones asking for money. As for the actual ceremony, only people of a certain last name were invited so I don't have the details. It's actually a lot like a funeral, except it's celebrating life instead of mourning death.

These events lately have made black and white another way in which I'm an outsider. Yes I'm white and a stranger, but I'm also not muslim. That's how they think of it. Not that I'm a Christian, but that I'm not muslim, and therefore I'm not allowed to participate in most of the ceremonies. During the funeral (which I only observed) I had a pretty serious conversation with the biology teacher at my school. Like me, he isn't from this area, and he's not a muslim. He told me that the last mayor of the village had been run out of town because he was a Christian and would pray with other Christian villagers. The village declared that it's a muslim village and that you can't pray in public here. I was shocked to hear this because I've only ever heard that Guineans are extremely tolerant of other religions. As if that wasn't shocking enough, he told me that he was once one of 3 who were here to help the village. The others didn't feel comfortable staying here because people had broken into their homes and stolen all of their things. It's like a story straight from the Bible. One I never thought I'd be living. Religious persecution? This is the 21st century!
All of this has given me so much to think about. Can I/ do I want to stay in a place like this when they don't even want me here? I ask this even though I know the answer. Yes. I should stay here and help these people, but...that's where the extortion part comes into play and makes it really tough to stay here.

TO BE CONTINUED...

Things I'm thankful for

Well I had originally planned to post about the trashed wasteland that is Medina Market in Conakry and all of my fun adventures there, but instead I have a happy tale to tell. Don't worry, the horror story will come next week! As all of you know, this past weekend was Thanksgiving and I spent it here in the capital city with about thirty other volunteers. I normally dip out on the larger get togethers, but my presence was mandatory due to a seven meeting I had (completely in French) with my boss. Our Thanksgiving feast was on Saturday night in the house of the Country Director. I had never visited her house before, and as soon as I walked in it, I was completely floored by how much it resembled an American home...I could easily have been in America. Tears welled in my eyes when I saw things like leather couches, flat screen tv's, people in small groups talking over glasses of wine, and soft jazz playing in the background. Before eating, we all shared what we were thankful for, and at this point I really came to appreciate the other volunteers and the amazing support network we have here. We are all in this together. I also was reminded of the amazing support system I have at home. It's not a bad thing I miss my family and friends so much. It means that I had something worth missing. Above all, there was the amazing food. I don't know where they found turkey and cranberry sauce, but those were two of about twenty dishes laid out in front of us, the malnourished volunteers. I became sick on cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, stuffing, green beans, salad, and yes, even turkey. After dinner, a few of the volunteers turned on the aforementioned TV to watch the Michigan/Ohio State game, and even though I can't stand football in the states, it was yet another taste of home. All in all, I was really glad I came into the capital to celebrate thanksgiving, and was amazed that I could have so much of America in this place called Guinea. While I'm not really looking forward to going back to site (and lots of rice), Christmas will be coming really soon and I'll be taking a super awesome trip to Guinea's forest region!

[Note] I'm going to try to start posting on the same day every week (or every two weeks). So make sure to come back on Wednesday's!

Pictures : Kid Edition!

Kids just want to have fun!

I don't know all of their names, but the girl in the center is Sigh-you, my best friend 

Ousmane. Don't worry, he'd never actually hit me!

Fatime - cutest baby ever

Opposite my House - the neighbor kids!

She did NOT want her photo taken. She was scared of a white person with a big camera 

A brat..but a cute one!

You won't believe what just happened

 You won't believe what just happened

Since arriving in Guinea, the majority of my conversations have begun this way. Even though I should be used to the ridiculous, things here continue to shock me on a daily basis. The most recent bunch of ridiculous events happened this weekend in a series of taxi rides which were...particularly disturbing.

I was leaving my site for my monthly visit in Boké and it started out really well. The car was in decent shape and even the speedometer worked...a fact I regretted later when I could see how fast we were actually going. About half way there, we came across a barrage with gendarmes trying to get us to pull over, but our driver decided that he didn't want to and instead began shouting at them. So, what choice did the gendarme have but to hop on his moto and pull us over. Usually at these roadblocks, they check the id and papers of the driver and passengers (especially white ones) and if everything is in order, they let you continue on your way. Well, because our driver had ticked them off, we sat on the side of the road for half an hour listening to them argue in Susu about bribing them to let us go. Finally, they decided they'd had enough and they let us go. A little ways down the road we stopped for gas. After putting gas in the tank, the driver opened the hood and what he did next was quite shocking. He took a big swig of gasoline, leaned down under the hood, and spit the gas into a pipe leading down into the engine. This happened several times as Kelly and I sat there, jaws on the floor. Done with this appalling task, the driver hopped back into the car and we were on our way. After several minutes we stopped at a bar and the driver went inside. Kelly jokingly said “I bet he is going to pound a beer and then come back” to which I could only laugh. Several minutes later he was back and we continued down the road. It was then that I started to notice the unmistakable smell of beer. Turns out the driver HAD pounded a beer after all and so were were trusting our lives to a drunk taxi driver! Finally, we arrived in Boké. Stressed and emotionally damaged, but all in one piece.

Transportation here is such a joke. All those pictures you see of crap piled sky high, animals and people hanging off the side, it's all true and sadly it's completely impossible to avoid. In fact, on the return trip I was in a 5 seat car with 11 other people! They weren't all adults thankfully, but uncomfortable none-the-less. I don't know what I'll do when I actually have my own seat and am not being squashed between women with professionally child-bearing hips! I'm beginning to see why people in my village only travel when necessary. “We are plain, quiet folk and have no use for adventures. Nasty disturbing uncomfortable things! Make you late for dinner. I can't think what anybody sees in them.” Although this is taken from the Hobbit, I can just as easily hear it coming from the mouth of my neighbors.

Well, in other news, I've finished two months at site and it's hard to belive it's almost Thanksgiving considering I arrived here the fourth of July. Soon it will be Christmas and after that a brand new year. So even though life here can stink, at least things are moving along.  

Kadiatou's Choses à faire

 Kadiatou's Choses à faire...or Christine's To Do List.

Aside from other volunteers, I'm willing to bet that I'm one of the only people in this country who has heard of a to-do list, much less actually has one. My list usually consists of the following, as well as random 1-time tasks

• sweep house
• tuck in mosquito net
• do dishes
• haul water
• treat water
• drink AT LEAST 1.5 liters of water
• do laundry
• charge phone
• charge computer
• charge solar charger
• work on projects to make my house super cool
• practice Susu
• teach
• grade tests/homeworks
• lesson plan for school
• read
• hammock
• go to the market to buy food
• cook food
• write/post blog
• write letters
• write in journal
• take a walk
• take out the trash
• take malaria meds
• take vitamins
• dump bouille, wash crock pot, return to owner
• complain to Kelly Barb about Guinea
• saluer Fatime (adorable child who no longer crys when she sees me)
• apply sunscreen
• avoid eating with Guineans
• avoid creepers

Wow. This makes it look like I actually have a busy life. You'd be amazed at how much time I spend doing nothing!

Reflections on Teaching in Guinea (Month 1)

 Reflections on Teaching in Guinea (Month 1)

As most of you know, my primary job (and what I went through training for) is to teach math. More specifically, I've been assigned to 9^th and 10^th grade. My class sizes are larger than I would like with about 46/55 students regularly showing up in 9^th and 64/71 in 10^th grade. I have students my age as well as students who are married and have kids, and almost every single one of them is bigger than me. The intimidation of that many kids isn't helped by the way in which they answer questions. When I ask a question, I get anywhere from 1 to 64 hands in the air all snapping at me while the owners of the hands shout MADAME, MOI until I've called on someone. As a Peace Corps Education Volunteer, some of my goals include getting through the curriculum, increasing the passing rate of the high school entrance exam at the end of 10^th grade, and focusing on improving the education of girls. One might think those are a fine set of goals, but I'm already realizing how next-to-impossible they are becoming. Using the given math curriculum, I plan out nice 2 hour lessons that are ideally completed in the 2 hour class periods. I try to start every class with some kind of background they need for the new material. Well, here is where the problems start. More often than not, the students either never learned the prerequisites, or have completely forgotten them. Therefore, it's easy to spend around half an hour (but up to two hours) re-teaching what they were supposed to learn 1-2 grades before leaving little time to cover the new and required material. For example, in 10^th we are on factorizations like 2x(3x+1) – 14(3x+1). Forget that! They couldn't even tell me what the terms 8x and 4 had in common. Due to this lack of retention, I'm already well behind schedule but can't increase the speed of my classes without losing every single one of my students. Let me say that having 9^th and 10^th graders who still have problems adding and multiplying make it next to impossible to do...well anything, but I'm doing my best. As it is, I have to continue when at least half of the class grasps a topic. The pressure to move on with the material is really on in 10^th grade. There is not only a ridiculous amount of information to cover, but a basic knowledge of all of that information is needed to pass the high school entrance exam. I'm often left to wonder if they are learning anything and am worried the majority of the kids will fail. In fact, after the 1^st month, less than 25% of my students are passing!

So speaking of failing, the first round of tests are over, and the results were worse than I could have expected. While I have between one and five kids in each class who earned great marks, I gave out an obscene amount of 0's, 2's, 5's...etc. [Note: we use the 0-20 grading scale.] Ironically, I had a lot of kids cheating on the test who ended up getting a zero without me having to take off points for cheating! Cheating is HUGE problem here in Guinea with teachers accepting and ignoring it, and even accepting money and other favors in return for good grades. During my tests, I've had to take some extraordinary measures to prevent it. I give A/B tests to stay the wandering eye. I make them clear their desktops of anything but a single pen and single sheet of paper. They have to do the scratch work on the back because if I let them have another sheet, they will write formulas or example problems on it. If they talk, I automatically take 5 points off their test. Finally, because of the no-talking rule, they must clear their desks of the rulers and white-out pens they love to share. For any infraction, it's minus 5 points the first time and a 0 the second time, at which point they are asked to leave the class. So this brings me to a funny story. During my last test, I took 5 points off a kids test for using his white out pen. After I turned around, he then whited out where I had taken off the points thinking somehow that would fool me! The kids complained loudly about the no ruler or white-out rule. These kids would rather not write anything then chance making a mistake. This even goes for their notebooks, so copying things from the board becomes a painstakingly slow process. I lecture them constantly about how it's not necessary to have perfect notebooks and how I would rather them try to do the exercises rather than waiting to copy the right answers from the board, but it falls on deaf ears.

All things considered, I do have several kids who pick up a lot of what we do in class. I also have kids who always volunteer, but never get anything right. In the back corner, I've got these two clowns who always try the exercises and come up with the weirdest wrong answers. They argue with each other saying things like “It's like this right Madame? It's not like he did it right Madame? I can't fault them on their effort. Instead I can only hope things click someday.

All of this writing and I haven't even mentioned language yet. Student comprehension is further limited by my French and my occasional inability to explain myself in different ways. Add to that the fact that even the students are still learning French so a perfect explanation can easily go over their heads. It feels like every way in which school operates sets these kids up to fail and has been really discouraging.

Bon. [Note: Bon has become a great, albeit overused, filler word in class.] All of that covers math class, but I also teach 9^th and 10^th grade english. This is the first year they are doing english at the middle school level and as such, I have 0 guidelines and no curriculum to work from. So far that has actually been nice because I can do whatever I want and run the class in a fun and relaxed manner that I could never have for math class. Pretty much all the students love English class and actively participate. Unfortunately, English is the last period of the day so it's hot and the kids get really antsy. They get really noisy and are hard to keep under control. The last time I taught english, I was hot, tired and already fed up with the rowdiness of the kids. I was trying to teach them “How do you say _____ in English?” so that they could formulate questions with that sentence. No matter what I said, they didn't understand, so finally I wrote the translation on the board IN SUSU and read it aloud. I immediately dropped the chalk, swiveled around, and walked out of a room that went from stunned silence to gasps and shouts of astonishment. It felt like that scene in an action movie where the hero walks always from whatever blows up in the background. Not something my students will soon forget!

And there you have it. Teaching in Guinea. The first in what should be several installments over the next two years as I gain experience and my opinions change. As always, thanks for staying tuned!

This house is not a home

...yet! I've started a series of home improvement projects since my arrival and I'm proud to say that 2 are finished! First, I asked the village carpenter to make me a dresser. I drew a nice diagram and everything and this is what I got…

Not exactly what I wanted! I was told that making a dresser was impossible in Guinea (aka he's too lazy) and so I ended up with a series of hooks. I then took empty toilet paper rolls I had been saving and combined with duct tape and string made some hangers! So it wasn't a total fail. At least some of my clothes have finally made it out of my suitcase.

The second project is the following

I bought a painting during training and wanted to hang it. I then cut up some plywood and colored the pieces with chalk and/or sharpies and put up all my pictures. Isn't it cute?

Future projects include things like curtains, place mats, coasters, shelves and decorating my kitchen. Petit à petit! I'm pretty sure I already have the most arty house in the entire village.

A Series of Unfortunate (and Discouraging) Cultural Clashes

Imagine the worst gossiper you've ever met. Now, combine that with that one neighbor who always has to know your business. Finally, imagine 3600+ people worse than that all living in the same place and who, apparently, have chosen you as their sole topic of conversation. It's more than enough to drive one crazy. I can't walk out your front door without everyone demanding to know where I am going and why. If I manage to get through that, no matter where I go, everyone will scream at me saying things like FOTE. A word here which means white person, or really anybody who is foreign. Just being different isn't enough. They feel the need to point that out at every opportunity. I can't do simple things like hang up a hammock without it becoming a village affair. If in fact I do manage to get it up, people will ridicule me and scream my name until I respond to them. The people here discuss everything I do at great length, and usually point out why (or how) it's wrong. I get yelled at for what I eat for breakfast (apparently eating bread without drinking coffee invites constipation, and eating banana's “c'est pas bon”), for not taking my bike to school, and my personal favorite, I've bee yelled at for being sick! They try to control every aspect of my life not even trying to imagine what I'm going through. How do I know they aren't trying to imagine? They always tell me to forget about the US and my family because life here is “really sweet” and “there shouldn't be any problems”. In addition, they take every chance they get to tell me how horrible my Susu is and ask why I can't speak it like the guy who was here before me. Due to this, my motivation for learning Susu has been declining rapidly. They ridicule my Susu in front of their friends, and point out that I can't speak the language. They also love to use it as a tool to make me uncomfortable asking me direct questions like “Do you want me?” “No? Well, why not? Do you hate all black men?” I've occasionally expressed how much this bothers me to people who speaks French, but they even turn that against me. Ironically, they give me such a hard time about not knowing the language, yet even when I say things right, they criticize it and proceed to say exactly what I just said. They don't want me to be right, but they want me to speak the language. What do these people expect from me? People are constantly coming up to me and demanding (not asking) that I give them money, my cellphone, or even a visa to the United States. They have 0 boundaries and have no respect for me. I realize that a lot of it is cultural, but a big chuck is because I'm white and an easy target. Maybe they feel like they can get away with more? That being said, I am seriously convinced that every guy in the country becomes creepy at a young age and that they never grow out of it. I've had 6^th graders hitting on me this week! Finally, people are always “helping” me. It's not a nice, hey do you need a hand, but rather it's them grabbing what is in my hands and doing it for me. They do this even when it's obvious I'm not struggling and can do it just as well (or better) than them. I asked a Guinean about this and he said it's because I can't do things for myself. When I gave an example of a situation where it was obvious I could do it, he didn't have an explanation so he resorted to laughing at me and shaking his head; something they do very well here. Again, it's a completely different world here and the culture is different, but it's made adjusting (especially recently) to life here really hard and often makes me question and reconsider the fact that I'm here.

When in Guinea...do as the Guineans do

 So this post commemorates some pretty notable moments. The biggest, I've now been a volunteer for one month! In addition, I've passed the three month mark here in Africa, I've been at site for a month, and I finally started teaching. So what happened my first month at site you ask? Awkwardness beyond belief, a lot of laughter that was mostly at my expense, and anywhere from three to eight hours a day of sitting in a hut. Despite all of this doing nothing, quite a number of notable things have happened and will be divided into the following subtitles; food, language, fashion, bugs and pests, school, villagers, illness, travel, politics and finally, my cozy little house here in the savannah.

FOOD ADVENTURES

So this one isn't as crazy as one might seem because I do most of my own cooking now. In fact, I haven't had pumon (hot peppers) in about three weeks! However, I have a very shady propane powered stove that works so efficiently it can burn anything almost instantly. For that reason, I've gone without many meals simply because I don't feel like cooking. When I do eat, I eat a lot of spaghetti because it's simple, and a lot of cucumbers because it's one of the few vegetables easy to find, and it doesn't require the stove. I know I mentioned this before, but the people here really abuse sugar. Everything is drowned in it. Obviously this is a rough estimation, but I wouldn't be surprised if I've had a pound in the past month and my body is freaking out. Unfortunately, it's rude not to take what is offered to you, and so that means lots of tea, and the daily crock pot full of ye frais (balls of flour in sugar water) that I am given. I hate to waste it because it's good, but I just can't take it anymore. They even like to eat cucumbers with sugar! Before the crock pots of ye frais, my go-to breakfast was freshly baked bread with jelly...until my jelly completely molded. I guess jelly really does need to be refrigerated.

While sitting in a hut for those 3-8 hours, some form of food is usually involved. Normally, it's just raw peanuts, and I've probably eaten my weight's worth of those, but there have been some gems like fruit resembling circus peanuts, and other fruits resembling captain crunch. Another volunteer provided the comment that they are probably what we call circus peanuts and captain crunch...a year before we eat it. It's not entirely impossible.

Finally, I will end with the shocker that I have eaten meat. When I visited my regional capital to go to the bank, I went with another volunteer to a cute little restaurant overlooking the river. The only thing they had was chicken and fries, so I went ahead and ate it. The chicken wasn't great, but it wasn't bad, and the fries were great! I guess I'm starting to learn that malnutrition does crazy things to you.

LANGUAGE

So for those of you who kind of speak another language, do you ever get frustrated because you are losing an argument you'd win in your native language? Well, in my village at least, I've learned how to solve that. I'll just go off on a rant in English stunning them into silence. This also works when you know people are talking about you in a tribal language that you can't speak. Speaking of, I guess my Susu has gotten a little bit better. We will occasionally have Susu-English conversations where they tell me words in Susu and I teach them the word in English. This always leads to those who have studied a little english coming up with ridiculous phrases like “give me my peanut.” Technically it's correct so how can I correct them? Most of my Susu conversations with people are pretty one-sided and they talk as if I could completely comprehend them. More than once, a student has been walking by when this happens and will often translate it into French for me. My most useful phrase so far is Addé, kobiri mu na. No, I don't have money. The word addé is a much sassier way to say no then the French word for no and has therefore started to replace it from time to time. Basically, my Susu, French, and English are all suffering, but I'm told that will change eventually.

FASHION

Wearing floor-length skirts can occasionally be a struggle. Especially when it comes to riding a bicycle and playing soccer. Just yesterday, I was biking to school wearing a pretty flow-y floor-length skirt. This was a feat in and of itself, but I was then given a lid-less crock pot full of, what do you know, peanuts. I was able to get to school only having lost one and without my skirt catching in the chain! The most common “skirt” here is really a piece of fabric that is pretty insecurely wrapped around you. One day, I ending up playing, successfully I might add, soccer wearing the skirt-fabric contraption. That's pretty much all for MY fashion, but I can't end this section without mentioning santa hats. I have yet to figure out why people are always walking around wearing santa hats, or any type of winter hat, but it's definitely a thing here.

BUGS AND PESTS

This needs introduction because I know you, the reader, are already imagining crazy things. Let's start with ants which range from miniscule to an inch long. Then, there are the ants that bite, or more accurately, pinch you. They are NOT fun and unfortunately, they decided to invade my house one day. I woke up to hundreds swarming my house (think 4^th Indiana Jones movies) and a neighbor came over to help me sweep them out. The mosquitos here aren't too bad because I'm far from water, but they can still be annoying. During my first week here, I found a toad in my house every morning that I would kick out, but would somehow get back in later. Now, I find mouse poop every morning even though I have yet to see one here. The cockroaches are Atlanta size, so that wasn't surprising. Spiders are another story. I've found not one, not two, but three spiders the size of my hand in the past month. I don't think they are dangerous but they certainly scare me. Let no one say that I'm not facing my fears! Now I'm not sure if I mentioned I had received a rabies shot (or rather, three) but those don't actually keep you from getting rabies. Supposedly, they just keep you alive long enough to get to a hospital for treatment. Due to this fact, I basically avoid all animals. They however, don't always avoid me. I was on a walk the other day and had just rounded a corner when I met a dog. It growled and started to lunge towards me when a rock whistles through the air and hits the dog. I'm not sure how this guy was able to react so fast, but I sure am thankful because rabies just doesn't seem like fun.

I should mention that bug diversity can be pretty cool. The same day, I had been walking through the bush and had seen at least 15 different species of butterflies. You just have to take the bad with the good I guess.

I know for a fact that the bug and pest situation will continue for the next two years, so stay tuned!

SCHOOL

In Guinea this year, school opened the 3^rd of October which fell on a Thursday. I had heard that no one usually comes, but decided to be professional and show up. Sure enough, my principal was there, but that was it. No teachers, no students. Since I don't teach Fridays, I went home and got ready for Monday. Well Monday rolls around and if memory serves, seven kids (out of about 300) showed up. The principal put all the kids to work weeding the overgrown schoolyard. Wednesday, the same story, but with maybe 30 students. Thursday, I didn't even get to school until 9 instead of 8 because I had some issues to work out with the Peace Corps that involved me leaving site for the weekend. That brings us to Monday, the 14^th of October when I actually taught. I had 15 out of 55 kids in my ninth grade class, and 20 out of 75 in my tenth grade class. I was introduced to the students by the Director of Studies who explained that I was American, and that I am a volunteer who is not paid by the Guinean Government. He went on and on about my sacrifice for the kids and how I had volunteered to teach English in addition to Math. Finally, he added that anyone misbehaving in my class would be kicked out for the whole year (but I doubt that will happen). Everyone here has been putting on a show for me. The rest of the week went pretty well, although my kids are just not at the level they need to be and I don't always do the greatest job explaining things. Because I'm teaching 9^th and 10^th grade, the pressure is really on. At the end of 10^th, the kids have to pass an exam in order to continue on to high school. It's good to know my principal has faith in my teaching, but of course I'm nervous with all of this responsibility. It's also slightly intimidating to be teaching people, who for the most part are between 18 and 20. I'm not much older than they are, and some are already married and have kids. My very first day, a girl had to leave in the middle of class to breastfeed her kid! Because kids go to Quaranic schol before elementary school, and because failing is common, kids finish school at an older age.

My math classes are pretty dry, but until English classes start, I give them 5-10 minutes of English which they absolutely love. They perk up, start participating and because they don't need English for the exam, I can do what I want and can have laid back classes. It should be a lot of fun.

VILLAGERS... or Stuff Guineans Say

“Are you a person or a devil?” It was twilight, and I was sitting on a bridge just taking in the scenery, when an older man on a moto pulled up and asked me this question. I laughed until I realized he was serious and so I explained I was a person. He seemed relieved, but still asked me what I was doing in his village. When I mentioned this encounter to my neighbor, he told me devils walk around at twilight and can change their appearance including the color of their skin. I guess it was a perfectly valid question. What was I thinking? That however, doesn't sum up most of my interactions. Most involve people pointing and shouting white person at me. Anytime I leave my house, EVERONE asks me where I'm going, why, and when I'll be back, etc. They are worse than my mother ever was. For some reason, everyone things I'm European. A fellow teacher asked me where I was from. Assuming he knew I was American, I said Pennsylvania and he asked where in Europe that was. This is also probably the only place in the word where people assume I'm French because while my accent is good, my actual French leaves much to be desired.

Much like any other human, I've always craved attention. Boy did I get it. Not only do the creepers hit on me, the best looking and most ripped guys do too! I would say almost everyone between 18 and 81 here has flirted with me, or asked me to marry them. So, need a confidence boost? Come here! Possible consequences include malaria, skin cancer, worms, frustration and more! While the adults and kids here love me, the babies are completely terrified. They either just stare at me, or bust into tears and run away.

I've made so many friends here with a concentration of old women, soccer players, and the kids who aren't scared of me. Unfortunately being friends with soccer players led to one of the most humiliating experiences of my life...

My neighbor invited me to a soccer game. I first noticed something was weird when the coach of one of teams came to my house to pick me up. He introduced me to his team and informed them that I had prepared a few words. I had NOT prepared anything and could only come up with good luck. While sitting there waiting for the game to start, I kept overhearing the term “grand delegate” being used around me and knew it wasn't over! When the game started, they brought me to center field where I met both teams, was introduced, and was given the microphone and had to give an impromptu speech to the better part of my village. Then, all of the players kneeled around me so I could “give them advice”. I would have been uncomfortable doing that in English, much less French. After kicking the opening ball, I was allowed to sit down. They tried to sit me under an umbrella, but I was able to convince them otherwise.

Turns out that this happened to several other unsuspecting volunteers who went to soccer games. Leave it to Guineans to make such a show of a soccer game between teams from the village.

When it comes to the villagers I could easily write a book on the things they say to me, but you get the idea. They are all nuts.

ILLNESS

This also needs no introduction, and will thankfully be shorter than I expected. Unfortunately, I've been stuffed up on and off the entire time. Allergies maybe?

One morning I woke up vomiting because I had eaten cold leftovers. Always reheat them! Anyway, I was tired, sick, frustrated, and emotionally compromised so I attempted to ask a neighbor to go to the market and get me something to eat. Well my Susu stinks, so they didn't understand and I broke down crying. I guess it's good to get that out of the way early?

I've only had diarrhea once since arriving here which is pretty impressive! Finally, I switched malaria meds again to the daily and most expensive, $1USD/day pill which is supposed to have the least amount of side effects. I sure hope this one works. Well, that about wraps it up for sickness. I'm hoping the good luck streak continues.

TERRIFYING TRAVEL

I've been looking forward to writing this part since I started. Maybe you've heard of the legendary bush taxis, maybe you haven't, so I'll fill you in. To get anywhere in this country, you have 2 choices; taxi or moto. As a PCV, I am forbidden to get on a motorcycle, so that leaves Taxis. What you do is head to the “station” and wait for the taxi to fill up. If this happens in less than an hour or two, it's a miracle. In a normal 4-5 passenger car, this means 4 passengers in the back seat, two in the passenger seat, and if you are really unlucky, they sit someone in the front row between the driver and passenger seats even though the cars are all manual. Did you know you can fit four people in the front row of a four person car? They will then strap stuff (and oftentimes people) onto the top of the car until the stack is at least as tall as the car is. Then, if they can get the car to start, you are on the way. Next, due to the condition of the roads, it can take anywhere from 1-2 hours to travel the 20 miles between my village and the paved road. There the process of finding a taxi and waiting for it to fill begins again. Last weekend it took me almost 10 hours to travel 90 miles, and I spent four of those hours sleeping in a shack waiting for a taxi to fill. Sound safe yet? The cars, trucks, buses, whatever, are in appalling condition. I've only seen one car which actually started by a key instead of touching wires together. They've got plastic containers under the hood where they pour the gas, windshields are often cracked, side mirrors non-existent...and the list continues. Yet, these, and in fact the whole process, are deemed safer than traveling by motorcycle.

In my village, I've done a decent amount of walking and exploring pathways. Normally by myself, but sometimes with my neighbor who, being born and raised here knows all the tricks. The countryside is beautiful and I always make lots of new friends along the way. In fact, because of this, I never explore as much as I would like because people stop me to talk or have me sit with them and eat peanuts.

POLITICS

Politics! The one thing I'm not supposed to talk about. That's not entirely true, I just can't really voice my opinion. The elections were a big part of my first month, and it was really cool to be here for them, but nothing has come out of it. They were the 28^th and results haven't been announced. The opposition was planning to make a big stink about it, but that was several weeks ago and I haven't heard anything lately. The main reason for this section was to share statements made by my neighbors that I found amusing

1. “Americans love Cellou Diallo” - I had to try not to scoff as I explained that most Americans don't know that Guinea is a countryside
2. “Guinea is doux. No coup d'états, no wars, there are no problems here. Is America like that?”

And with that we move to the final section

LITTLE HOUSE IN THE SAVANNAH

And now down to business. I think I'm slowly adjusting to life here and having the house I do brings a lot of comfort. I mean, it's not every day you can go to the bathroom sitting down (oh wait! It is!). I have to joke because integration has been really tough. You are stripped of your name, your family, your friends, everything you know, and you are given new clothes, new food, a new language, and your neighbors expect you to immediately adapt to your new life. In addition, you have responsibility for 100+ students and your every action is watched and judged. My short time here has already changed my life and I hope that by reading this, it has in some small way affected yours. All of your comments, letters, and just the fact that you are reading this is a huge comfort. If you have any questions about Peace Corps, life or culture here, I'd be more than happy to discuss is with you!

Hey woman! Will you marry me?

\How can I even begin to sum up life here at site? Well, first of all, I'm posting this from my house in my isolated village that has no electricity. Explain that! Then there's my neighbors. They've all been super friendly and welcoming (or at least I think so). Since they only speak in Susu I could be totally wrong. I think they like me though because they will always drop what they are doing to try to help me, and of course laugh at my pathetic attempts to speak their language. My go to words are Adé (No) or Iyo (Yes). If it's a woman I'm speaking with I'll normally say Iyo, but if it's a man, I always feel safer going with Adé because they will usually ask if I'm married or if I'll marry them! Frustratingly enough, even those who speak French talk to me in Susu as if I can understand them. I also can no longer stand any sentence containing the name Albert. Sorry Dad! Albert was a European who lived here several years ago and spoke excellent Susu. Since we are both white foreigners they love to compare me to him and I definitely don't measure up!
Being that all my encounters are sufficiently awkward on my part, I spend a lot of time alone in my house. "You end up just talking to yourself a lot, which gets terribly boring because half the time you know what you are going to say next." In all seriousness, I've slowly been learning what's great to do alone, and what's not so great. Example, cleaning, reading (during my 11 weeks of training I read less than 100 pages, but read an entire book before two days at site were over), playing solitaire (I'm up to 137 games) and balancing things on your head are all great!
Some of the not so great things? Reading the health manual. It details all of the fun things you can get/catch here. (I've gotten more infected arm hair follicles here then I thought possible in a lifetime.) Who knew you could still get dysentery or that there are multiple types. While on the subject of poop, I have 3 additional things to say
A: Someone and by the size of it, an adult, took a dump on my front step! Is that a commentary on my presence here?
B: I'm keeping a "this girl has been diarrhea free for _____ days at site count. I'm holding strong at 13 which happily is how many days I've been here.
C: Kids are cute, but they aren't much different than the chickens. They will eat anything, poop anywhere, and they carry diseases. One doctor here can be quoted as saying "they are walking biohazards." They are also scared of me. All the babies at least. If I wave at them, they start bawling. The parents find this hilarious so they'll bring babies up to me to watch their reactions.
Elections finally came and went. So far no violence, mainly because everyone is relieved they are over. Three years is a long time to delay things! Perhaps the reader will find it interesting/amusing that the leader of the opposition party called me out saying I was an ignorant white person who can't speak the local language. Ironically, this was said in Susu and was translated to me. No, there is no mistake. I'm the only white person here making me insanely popular and easy to spot. Those who don't know my name yet still shout at me whenever I walk by. Some days all I want is to be invisible, but I stick out in the same way Zaphod Beeblebrox would anywhere on earth. (Sorry for all the Hitchhiker's references. I'm currently re-re-(re?) reading it.
I'm already frustrated by the work ethic here but not that of the women! A man told me that women have to drop out of school to take care of kids because "men don't have time." Well I don't know if any actually work because I've only ever seen them sitting around for hours drinking tea.* They are really serious about their resting time. It doesn't matter if the task is done because it will get done eventually. I'm anticipating this same reaction for the beginning of the school year. I'm sure I'll start teaching eventually!
Being here is such an emotional rollercoaster. Sometimes I'm ready to call it quits and other times I'm gung-ho about everything here (minus the bugs).** I'm either going to come out of this the emotional equivalent of a muscle woman or a slug! The thing that has been the most emotionally troubling is to see people sick and dying. My heart broke when I visited a little boy who is deathly ill with malaria.. I still haven't heard any news good or bad, but it's sad. I've been lucky that death was never a big part of my life in the states, but it makes it harder to come to terms with here.
I've been told that my decision to come here was either extremely courageous or extrememly stupid, or a combination of the two. Sounds about right, but even with everything my mind, body, and soul is going through, given a choice I'd do it again.

My mosquito fort and amazingly large bed!

My house :)

Where I'll be teaching for the next two years

Children at the training site

Practice school!

Climbing "Le Chien qui fume"

All of the different fabrics I've already acquired here 

My host brothers Sédiki, Ousmane, and Adolf (my husband)

Adolf and Raoul my oldest host brother

G-24! All of the volunteers from my group

Waterfalls near the training site

*Here I had to refrain myself from making another Hitchhiker's reference.
** I've battled spiders, beetles with 9 lives, army ants, maggots, roaches, and other unknowns. Plus frogs!

This is Not Your Parent's Africa

From talking to everyone back at home, and from my perception of Africa before coming here, I've realized that much of the world continues to look at Africa through the lens of films like Born Free and Tarzan. While elements of that time are permanently woven into the culture, it's so much more than a savage and wild jungle with people running around in loincloths (or nothing at all). There is a marked lack of information because not much has made it out of Africa post colonialism. Here I've experienced a hodge podge of culture with everything from talismans against sorcery and the continuation of female circumcision, to skinny jeans and cell phones in almost every hand. With the rest of the world rapidly developing and moving forward, Guinea is struggling to balance their rich heritage with “western thinking.” So many things like electricity, water, taxis, etc don't work here, but thinks like community are something they have that much of the modern world has lost. I'm interested to see how life works in my village, because I've had a skewed view living in a larger town. The villages tend to be much more primitive, but again, with most people owning cell-phones, information travels rapidly and they are not as primitive as we once would have considered them. I would also like to point out that those films mentioned above gave me unrealistic expectations about seeing awesome animals like elephants and lions wandering around. Instead all I've seen is chickens, ducks, sheep, and the occasional cow!

“God made water, fire and the earth but it's the women who make the food!” My five year old host brother declared this the other day and it speaks volumes about what they think of women here. From the age of six or seven girls are expected to help around the house with cooking, laundry, cleaning, and the list goes on. Once they start going to school, they have to balance school with all the work they have at home. They have no time to study, and a lot only stay in school because it's a break from their work! I won't even get started on an education rant because I have two years to work on that one! Sadly, the women who have worked hard to pass school and go to university then can't find a job, and no one wants to marry them because of the fact that they are educated. I know two amazing (and beautiful) women here at the training center who try to do what work they can but don't have the support of a husband. They are proof that women can do it, but for now, only the strongest can be expected to follow through with it.

So, I know I've mentioned training a ton. What did it do? Did it work? Well it was long I can tell you that! Overall, I think it was pretty useful. In July I didn't think I could ever teach a math class to real Guinean students! Now, I've done three weeks of teaching, feel a lot more comfortable, and I think my students have been learning. Unfortunately, during practice school I would have classes with around twenty students, so I don't feel ready to face my 91 students at site! Language training didn't go as well as one would hope. The program is amazing for those coming in with no French. Their capacity to speak and express themselves in amazing, while I don't feel that mine has improved much, if at all. There were also a lot of dry sessions that probably had important things in them, but most of it was lost on us. I know a lot of the sessions are required and give us a basic knowledge of things like community development, PC policies, and corruption, to name a few. It's been a tough three months, but I think it was worth it, I know I've learned a ton, and I am eager to apply everything I learned.

This will most likely be my last weekly post. From now on, expect monthly ones! I swear-in as a volunteer on Wednesday, and leave for my village Thursday. There I will have no electricity and no running water. I may or may not have access to internet that runs off the cell-phone tower (on va voir). I've heard the moment you realize you are really here in Africa doing this is when the Peace Corps vehicle drives away and leaves you all alone at site. Naturally, I am pretty nervous about this because I will be alone in a village where I don't speak the local language, and the locals don't speak much french! I know for a fact I will get really good at hand gestures, and will suffer for many awkward moments. Until next time!  

short and yet somehow not very sweet

 Well I had quite the eloquent and thoughtful post in the works for today, but I couldn't bring myself to finish it. Part of it is the heat, part of it is the meds, and part of it is pure exhaustion. Summarizing what I'm going through has been getting harder and harder. So far I  haven't had the time to interalize what's happening to me, so sharing it with others is pretty difficult. Because I leave for site in a week, this week or next week will most likely be the end of my weekly posts. That being said, I will do my best to come up with something awesome one next week. Until then, I am alive and mostly well! Thanks for keeping up with my life :)

Thoughts on Practice School

Well here I am, half way through l'école practique, with exactly two weeks until I become an official Peace Corps Volunteer. While there have been a few rewarding moments, practice school been a really exhausting and frustrating experience. In a typical day, I'll have to turn students away at the door for coming in late, kick them out during the middle of class, make students move around, and repeatedly say TAISEZ-VOUS or DU SILENCE without much of a result. After teaching, I'll then have to spend hours planning the lesson for the next day and trying to figure out how to get the kids to behave. Once that is over, it's feedback time from the trainers which is always really discouraging because they won't have liked the way you changed the example from the book, or they will tell you that you smile too much. Even if you have done a great job, they will always have criticisms. It gets even worse on test days due to the cheating. In one exam I took away a notebook a kid had hidden in his desk, five minutes later, I took a cheat sheet away from the same kid. Finally, I ended up ripping up two exams ten minutes before the end of class.

For the first couple of days of practice school, I was really timid because I'm not used to having that much authority and being able to exercise it. Now, even my stone cold trainer has said that I'm am finally becoming strict enough. Every night before I go to bed, I spend hours feeling guilty and thinking about how I treated the kids and whether the kids I kicked out really deserved it. I know that I am here to help the kids, and I've just been trying to keep that in mind. Hopefully once I get to site and get to work with the same kids for more than a week, I'll be able to gauge whether or not I am making a difference.

So what happens once I'm actually a volunteer? After I swear in on the 18^th, I'll head to my site the next day. There I'll be sitting tight until school starts the first or second week of October. Due to the upcoming legislative elections (not presidential), all volunteers have to stay at their sites and won't be able to visit others, go to the regional capitals, etc. As with most things in Guinea, you just have to wait and see what happens and hope that violence doesn't break out. The town of Dubreka has been buzzing with election stuff. Most of you heard that I saw the President several weeks ago. In addition to his visit, the candidates have been campaigning all over town which means lots of extra people, an increased military presence, more noise than usual, and lots of electricity! We've gotten electricity at least once a day for the past week which is a vast improvement compared to the once a week max I've seen throughout training. While I am slightly nervous to be here during elections, it's been really interesting observing everything tied to them and hopefully good things will come out of them! Until next time,

Kadiatou, Yama, or Umu (ooo-moo)

(I'm still working on picking out a Guinean name to use at site!)

August 28th Blog

What do the words palm tree, plastic bag, loose monkey, and cement brick have in common? Unfortunately all of those words summarize my most recent babysitting experience. My host mom left me with my host brothers and some random neighbor children. Within five minutes, one was climbing a palm tree, and another one had a plastic bag over his head. Once I finally got the kid down from the tree, and had the plastic bag situation under control, they all ran out into the middle of the road to chase a loose monkey (and an angry one at that). Once they returned from that adventure, Sadiki picked up a cement brick and was about to hurl it at Ousmane, I don't think I've ever reacted as quickly as I did then. Between my scream and my glare, Sadiki stopped dead in his tracks and started laughing. After that, all I could do was wait for my host mom to get back and get things back under control. Babysitting is hard, but it's even worse when you don't speak their first language and you are in a culture where yelling is perfectly normal and no one really pays attention when you do it.
Aside from that terrifying experience, I find myself with little to say. This week has been pretty demanding with all the preparation for practice school and the feedback that goes along with practice school! As per usual, my french has been fine, but I'm nowhere ready to be a Guinean teacher. Since the teaching that they are used to hasn't really helped them to think critically or even really grasp the material, I've been trying to explain things in creative ways. However, the trainers (who are Guinean) don't like when I don't teach from the book. So for now, I just have to suck it up,  teach it their way, and deal with the criticism for the next three weeks.
On a positive note (because it is always better to end with that) I bought lots of colorful fabric that I just dropped off at the tailors. I'm pretty excited for not only my first tailored outfit, but my first African one as well! I know that I'm going to look absolutely ridiculous, but I'm not too worried about it. I really apologize for the lack of motivation this week! I'm going to leave you with a list of other notable things that happened this week that didn't really work into the rest of the blog post.

- Saw the president of Guinea! His helicopter landed right behind the training center, and so almost everyone got to see him get out the helicopter and greet the wonderful residents of Dubreka
- My host brother is convinced that I'll go crazy living alone and that I will talk to myself (or to my bike which he has nicknamed Christine)
- My host brothers went on a 15 minute rant about how the toothpaste in Dubreka is more doux than the toothpaste in Conakry (yup. It was as ridiculous as it sounds)
- Exploited my first petite! I sent him to by me laundry soap
- I was so cold while sleeping last night that I dreamed it was snowing
- One night this week my host mom served me pastel colored chips with the consistency of Styrofoam that were somehow made from prawns, and peppers so hot they melted the chips on top!
- Almost got attacked by a ferrel monkey that also tried to eat my friends puppy

Hopefully the internet will work tomorrow so I can post something else. Inch'allah!

When in Guinea...

Well here is the blog I was supposed to post yesterday! I tried to connect to the internet for over an hour with no success but finally succeeded today!


August 21st,

Well this week started out pretty normal, but it didn't take long for crazy things to start happening. For example, yesterday I woke up to one of those mutant cafards (cockroaches) crawling on me. I had been exhausted and was going to stay in bed for a few extra hours, but after that horrifying experience, I was WIDE awake. I swear it must have been right outside my mosquito net and scurried in when I turned off my alarm. Speaking of mosquito's, they also continue to terrorize me. Even under the net, I get at least five new bites every night localized to my feet. Some nights, when I want to be sneaky, I remember to put on my socks. However, this means the bites move to my legs, or worse, my wrists and elbows. These critters sure know how to drive a person crazy. Between the anti-malaria meeds (which make you crazy) and the mosquito's themselves, insanity becomes almost inevitable. Since writing this, I actually have what I hope will be good news. I'm going to be switching my anti-malarial meds, so hopefully these won't bother me as much! Another crazy thing that happened was when I accidentally walked outside in my short-shorts. *GASP* I know. I didn't realize until about five minutes in that I was doing this and by that time the damage was done. Oh well, I'm sure I've already done so many shocking things that my family will get over it.
Today we had another one of those medical sessions that will go down in history. We were given 14 different case studies and had to diagnose each case. That led up to a list of over 50 different things that volunteers often suffer from here in Guinea. From tapeworms, to UTIs, to carbuncles, to pink eye, there are plenty of strange problems to go around!
Yesterday Chris' host mother died, so all of the volunteers went to her funeral. Basically, the women sit inside and wail, and the men sit outside. When you go over to the house, you greet everyone outside, then go inside and greet everyone. It's a lot of praying and a lot of sitting. The burial will happen this afternoon (no wasting time) but women aren't allowed to go to it so I'm not sure how the rest of the process works.
Hmmm what other problems?! Oh, the sad story that is my diet continues. The other night my host mom gave me popcorn for dinner. Malnutrition FTW! Other standard meals have become a baked potato with laughing cow cheese, or better yet, beignets and bisap.
I'll leave you now to work on my lesson planning! Practice school officially starts on Monday and so I'll be pretty busy. With the exception of Thursday, I'll be teaching two one hour chunks of math lessons to 10th grade. Thursday I'll have a 2 hour block of english classes with Terminale students.

I DON'T LIKE TO THINK OF THEM AS WORMS

"I don't like to think of them as worms. Instead, I prefer to think of them as little friends." The number of places you can pick up little things like worms and amoeba's is pretty ridiculous (water, food, and even petites) however it's just life here in Guinea. You learn to accept it and move on. It also turns out I have been worried about all the wrong things. No electricity? Pas grave. Squat toilets? Pas grave! Being sick? Pas tellement grave. Things I didn't worry about? All of the mold. Moldy clothes. Moldy books. Moldy everything. With the combination of rain and humidity, nothing here ever dries all the way out. The only times clothes do actually dry is when they are laid out on the road. However, at that point you are sacrificing clean clothes for dry clothes because your clothes are now on top of child and goat poop. I also didn't worry about how much I would miss the freedom to make my own choices and have some degree of control over my life. I can't wait to move into my house where I can cook for myself, get my own water, etc. I also hadn't worried that much about my interactions with other volunteers. However, I frequently find myself embarrassed to be an American, and am not sure how often I'll want to leave site to hang out with the other volunteers!

Given the downs, this weekend was still quite a treat. Some of the volunteers staying at the regional capital took a trip to Port Kamsar and let me tag along. Kamsar is where you find all of the foreigners who invest in the bauxite and iron industries. While I was warned that there were white people in the city, I was quite taken aback anytime I saw one that I didn't know. It's things like that that I never thought I would be surprised by! Probably the most exciting thing about Kamsar is the supermarkets. I found everything from Delallo's olive oil, to mountain dew, to cans of Great Value food, to Heath ice cream bars. While everything is pretty expensive, I can't wait to come back after moving to site and stock up on yummy things like chickpeas and lentils.

I'm about to pass several big milestones. Starting August 15th (which is also Blaze's birthday) every day I spend in Africa is one day longer than I've ever spent outside of the US! Secondly, tomorrow I'll teach in front of Guinean students for the first time! I'm very nervous because it's for 50 minutes and it's concerning co-linearity of vectors! Just like everything here in Guinea, on va voir! Finally, I braved the big market here, and amazingly enough found a shop I had been to before and bought my first bit of African fabric! It's pretty, but don't get too excited, because it's basically just a wrap. I'm saving the crazy outfits until I'm all comfy at site and have outfitted my house.

Until next time…and thanks to everyone who is still reading this! If you have any suggestions (eg. are more interested in certain choses/want me to stop talking about something, just let me know and I'll see what I can do). It's been thrilling to watch my stats grow exponentially with each post!

Back from the Bush

Site visit has been defined by current volunteers as: the best most awkward time of your life, and I think I have to agree. It all started with ten hours of silence next to my counterpart on the way there. During the visit, I got to see the school, meet most of the board, some of the other teachers, and the village authorities. Aside from that and visiting my house, I spent most of my time "integrating". A word here which means stumbling through the various greetings, being laughed and stared at, and eating more than a hobbit. I know there are starving people in Africa, but not in Guinea. Malnourished yes, because their diet consists of starches, oil, and sugar, but not starving. I was really impressed with my soon-to-be house. I have a REAL toilet (seat included) and even a contraption which should allow me to take a shower rather than a bucket bath. If there's one thing to complain about it's that I don't have anywhere to hang my hammock.
The journey to site was quite crazy and it is impossible to do it justice. While I was lucky enough to be in a PC bus for the first six hours, there were some major shocks for the remaining 4-5 hours. The second taxi we took, which was as much a bush taxi as they come, had a cracked windshield that was precariously glued together. The car kept dying in the middle of the road, and everyone had to get out to push start it. During the ride, the driver was pointing and grunting at me and I finally realized that he wanted me to light him a cigarette. Amazingly, I didn't get carsick on the 20 miles of unpaved road between my village and "civilization." On the ride back down that road, the driver drove so fast over all the bumps that the key kept flying out of ignition and even the Guineans were getting sick! We had to pull over so that my neighbor could get out and vomit. I was really proud that I didn't even feel nauseated! After several bush taxi experiences, I am still not sure how they are "safter" than moto's, but I did end up arriving safely in Boke and even arrived at the Peace Corps house in the personal car of the Boke minister of education (long story). I'll spend three days here and then head back to training! The other volunteers from this region are cooking us dinner and I hear rumors that it's soup, grilled cheese sandwiches, carrot cake, and pina colada's. What more could one ask for?

One Month in Africa

It's hard to believe that my first month in Africa has come and gone. While some things have become routine, like squat toilets and super spicy food, other things are still foreign like the complete disregard for time and the way in which I am treated.

This weekend was a real treat. A Peace Corps bus took all of us to these waterfalls about 20k from the training site. Here we got to dress like Americans and even act like Americans! I ended up dropping a whopping eighty grand on lunch and it was worth every penny. While I'll take hummus any day in the States, after a month, it was just spectacular. This was also the first time since being here that I was given ice! Granted it was a single cube, but it was incredibly refreshing. The waterfalls were gorgeous, the weather was perfect, and it was a good break from training life.

Last night I once again stayed up until midnight talking with my host brother on the front porch. I'm amazed that we are able to talk so much with French being both of our second languages. However, that might be what brings us together since we are both strangers in a strange land! There are many times where I know words in English but can't translate them into French, and it's the same with him and Wolof. None the less, he asked me about Protestants and we talked about the differences between them and catholics. Before I came to Africa, he said he had no idea protestants even existed. We also talked about our mutual lack of proficiency in Susu, how Africans/Americans view drinking, the difference between the metric system and what the US uses, and developed countries (because every Senegalese loves to talk about how their country is way more developed than Guinea).

Today I leave for a three-day training workshop in Mamou, and then I'll spend a few days at my future site (so no internet for at least 10 days)! I really have no clue what to expect. I don't expect it will be much like Dubreka, but I also don't think it is your typical minuscule village either. So here goes! I've got my backpack on my back and my camera around my neck and I'm ready to head out, but before I do, I'll leave you all with a tragically funny story...

So I was sitting on the roof when my brother's friend asked me how many kilo's I weighed. I proceeded to explain that we don't use kilo's in the states. However, I remembered that my phone had a converter so I was able to tell him how much I weighed. I then asked him if it was normal to ask girls how much they weigh because it's impolite in the United States. He told me he needed to know if I was going to break what I was sitting on. I was sitting on a slab of cement!! However, now they don't tell me that I'm too skinny so at least something good came out of it. I don't think I'll ever get used to the fact that being called fat is a compliment here.

Malaria, Mountains, and Site Announcements!

I can't say that this has been a normal week (although is it possible to have a normal week in West Africa?). Since you last heard from me, I may have battled with my first bout of Malaria, I survived my first earthquake, I scaled my first African mountain and I finally found something très bien glacé to drink! I also had my second experience in the innards of the markets here. They are not to be taken lightly. If you don't get lost, then the smell will get to you pretty fast, or you'll get surrounded by petites trying to sell you bags of water and eventually you have to buy something just to make them leave you alone. In fact, even paying adults to leave you alone happens more often than one would like! However, I was pleasantly surprised that you really can find most toiletries au marché (except hand sanitizer so please, please, please send that to me). If you haven't noticed yet, my franglais is getting much frequent!

So to the mountain story! A group of us met at the market on Sunday morning ready to head to the mountain with our guide. The only problem was our guide never showed up. We waited around awhile, but finally just decided to wing it. We all piled into a taxi where the gas tank was literally a bucket in the backseat with a wire leading somewhere that powered the car! The taxi driver didn't feel like taking us all the way to the mountain, so he finally pulled the car over, turned it off and told us to get out…and we obeyed. We probably only ended up walking an extra mile to get to the base so it wasn't too bad. On our way down the road, we noticed that these three guys were following us. We finally asked them what was going on and they told us that we had to pay to go up the mountain which of course is ridiculous! He told us that if we wanted to go up the mountain, we had to pay 30 mille each. When we scoffed at that, he lowered his price to 28 mille each. We argued with the man for a long time. We in no way thought his claims were legitimate, but we didn't want to get into any trouble. Finally, we told him that we would pay 5 mille per person and he said he would guide us. Well his definition of "guide" was to show us the trail head and then go back to the village but at this point we just wanted him to leave us alone! Obstacle number 1 was a river that we had to cross. Once did that, it was a pretty serious and steady climb up the mountain during which I realized that climbing a mountain the day after being sick is probably a bad idea. I didn't pass out, but I came pretty close! Thankfully there were some awesome volunteers that hung back with me until I could finish the ascent. With the worst over with, we set about to finding the trail that would take us to the summit. Sans guide, this was much easier said than done and we actually never made it to the real summit. We came close, and we could see it, but by that point it was so late that we had to start heading back down the mountain. The real adventure was in our attempts to find the trail. We ended up scaling trees, bushwhacking some new trails, and we all ended up with a various assortment of scrapes, scratches, bruises, and sunburn. In total, we spent about 5 hours trying to find the summit, 2 hours descending the mountain, and another hour or so walking back to the outskirts of Dubreka to find a taxi to take home. My family just started at me when I returned because my clothes were muddy and soaked and I probably looked like I had just come from living in the wilderness. It was such a great day!


Problems a first world native has in a third world country : The wallet I brought with me from the US is too small to hold all of my money! [I currently have over 300,000 francs, but don't get too excited because that's about $42]


So the very first night I arrived in Dubreka, I was given a sheet of paper titled "You know you're in Peace Corps Guinea when…" so here we are in week 3, I figured I'd see just how far I've gotten.
12) You know of and/or are a member of the Oopsie-Poopsie club [Yes, I know of it, but thankfully membership has eluded me!]
11) It's tough to distinguish between tan lines and dirt lines, no matter how many bucket baths you take [VERY true. I haven't been able to get my feet clean since arriving here and I'm getting some pretty bizarre tan lines on the rest of my body as well]
10) You put heaping spoonfuls of piment and/or mayo on everything, and love it. [This one does not yet apply to me. I have been avoiding the mayo]
9) You respond to almost every question with the ambiguous head nod/shake and "hmmm grunt" [I'm still not here yet either. I'm guessing this will happen once at site where I don't speak the language]
8) You have more negative feelings toward sheep than you would have thought possible [Getting there! They are VERY annoying…especially when they wander in the classroom during French]
7) You prefer squat toilets to Western-style toilets [YES, this is actually true. Although I miss sinks like nothing else]
6) Selon toi, 5 passengers in a taxi is spacious, and if the car has door handles, it's fancy. [My taxi experience so far has been somewhat limited, so we will have to wait on that]
5) Drinking tea and staring at your friends is one of your favorite pastimes [YUP especially the Senegalese tea my family makes]
4) Bare breasts no longer phase you, but skin showing above the knees makes you feel uncomfortable. [At this stage, I'm still uncomfortable with the first, but feel scandalous when others can see my knees]
3) You haven't seen a white person in over 3 weeks, and when you do your first thought is "What's that foot doing here?" [N/A because I still see at least sixteen other white people at least five times a week]
2) Tu ne peux plus formuler les thoughts in English, and can communiqué most effectively en Franglais. [À juste titre]
1) Watching an epic battle of daddy long legs vs. ant for an entire afternoon is time well spent [Still haven't gotten to this yet, but I know it will arrive]

As promised, I started working on this post before my internet hour started. However, this was sort of a problem because I ended up having two drafts, sort of like those "choose-your-ending" books. The first being, if site has been announced and the second being if site has not been announced. That being said…I FOUND OUT MY SITE ASSIGNMENT. I'll be spending the next two years of my life in the Basse Cote in Coliah speaking Susu [which I can already greet in]. My brain is going a hundred miles an hour and I still have to process everything.  I'll have pretty big class sizes, so I'm nervous about that. Sadly, I will NOT be living in a hut, and won't have to deal with as many bush taxis' so I'm not sure if I can say I am getting the full Peace Corps experience!