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?
Tuesday, December 31, 2013
Wednesday, December 25, 2013
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!
Wednesday, December 18, 2013
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.
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.
Wednesday, December 11, 2013
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...
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...
Wednesday, December 4, 2013
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!
[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!
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