MISC

Ebola

Just wanted to let you all know that I'm alive and well! As you may or may not know, there has  been an ebola virus outbreak here in Guinea. It started in the forest region, but has recently spread to the capital city. As scary as Ebola sounds, as long as you aren't hanging around with infected people, or touching the corpses of those who have died, the risk is very small. I'll keep you updated of course, but it doesn't look like it will be bad enough to get us evacuated.

People Magazine 

If my village had their own version of People Magazine, I would be on the cover every month. People follow me around every day, they scream my name when they see me, and they are always taking photos and videos of me. I was in the middle of teaching last week when I looked up and noticed a student videotaping me! I'm sure my students alone could fill pages of those unattractive “real life” star pictures they like to include in magazines. As far as the gossip columns, I can only imagine what would circulate, because the people in my village spend a ridiculous time talking about me. Where I'm going, what I'm doing, what I'm eating. Everything. “Kadiatou was late for school today.” “Kadiatou went for a run today and she didn't greet me. She is so rude.” “Kadiatou bought rice at the market. Will she make rice and sauce for dinner?” “Did you see Kadiatou walking with so-and-so? I bet they are dating!”. They seem to find the most mundane things that I do worthy of conversation. They even discuss my fashion. “Did you see what Kadiatou was wearing today? It was so pretty!” I've recently noticed some of my girl students wearing copies of my dresses. I've even had someone ask to borrow my clothes so that they could have a tailor replicate it for them! You know what they say. Imitation is the sincerest form of praise. Being such a celebrity can be really overwhelming. Everyone here knows my name, and wants to talk to me. They carefully watch and judge everything in a manner some might call crazy. I often find myself wondering if this is how celebrities feel? I never thought I would find myself walking in their shoes!

Upcoming Events

Tomorrow marks month NINE in Guinea. Boy does time fly.

My family will be arriving Guinea this Sunday for Spring Break! I cannot wait to see them and to show them Guinea and my day-to-day life.

World Book Day is coming up, meaning that I will have 300 mini-books to distribute to my students. These books are a mixture of fables, plays, and fairytales that come in both French and English. This is part of a Peace Corps literacy initiative throughout the country. I haven't yet planned my World Book Day activity, so if you have any suggestions, feel free to email me 

The Day My Stove Tried to Kill Me

In life, there are good days, there are bad days, and there are days where you almost die. Here in Guinea, as a dirt-poor volunteer, I own a very shoddily made stove that runs on propane. It is easy to use, and while very dangerous, it gets my cooking done in a jiffy. So one day, I had planned a lovely dinner. I had bought eggplant and tomatoes at the market and was going to couple that with tortellini that my family sent. All was going well. I had 2 burners going, when a 12 inch flame shot up where the hose connects to the gas tank to the stove. I don't know how I moved so quickly, but I immediately shut off the gas, and the fire stopped. It was the gas from the tank that was fire, so with no more gas flow, no more fire. I stood in my kitchen shaking, and crying with the realization that my life could've ended. A gas tank exploding? Not a pretty way to go.

Once I had calmed down a little bit, I tried to call the volunteer who had organized the stove buying. No luck. Then, I tried calling the principal, so that I could try to get my hands on the kind of stoves they use here. After all, I still wanted to eat, and dinner was only half cooked. Well, his phone was dead, so I was left with a final option, go outside and talk to my neighbors who don't speak French. I started ranting to them, while they grunted and nodded at the appropriate times. Finally, they stopped me, and were said, yeah, we don't understand what you are saying, but have some tea! Eventually, they found someone who spoke enough French to understand, and before I knew it, I was sitting in front of my house preparing the rest of my dinner.

For several days after this occurrence, I was too scared to use my stove, and continued to cook outside with charcoal. I swear, I didn't choose to contribute to deforestation! As could be expected, me cooking outside for all the world to see is quite an ordeal. My neighbors all congregate around the house to watch the white person cooking her weird food. While this kind of stove has no temperature control, and takes forever, I found myself enjoying it and even now that my stove is “fixed” I still like to use it from time to time. I sit outside with music playing, and watch the kids dance while stirring whatever it is I'm cooking. It's nice to cook dinner and not have to worry about your life ending.  

Cooking Guinean style!

This is it. The stove that tried to kill me. 

My Makeshift kitchen

Once Upon A Spelling Bee

Earlier this month, I had the opportunity of participating in a volunteer-organized and country-wide spelling bee. Across Guinea, hundreds of middle school students competed against each other to qualify for spelling bees at both regional and national levels. While my students came nowhere close to winning their regional bee, it was a really good experience for them to get out of their isolated village and see a little bit of the country. I had a lot of fun not only hosting the bee at my school, but helping my kids prepare to compete regionally. It's something that I hope will become a Peace Corps Guinea tradition!

In the French language, as far as I know, there isn't exactly a word for Spelling Bee. The word that was given to me, “concours d'orthographe” was misunderstood, and understandably so, by the administration to mean “writing competition.” So the day of the bee arrived. Out of the 285 students at my school, 30 decided to participate. Out of those thirty, about seventy-five percent were students from the grades that I teach. For each of the grades, the French teacher had composed a subject and wrote that on the board. 7^th grade had to complete sentences with a or à, 8^th grade had to determine the prefix and the root of each given word, and 9^th and 10^th grade had to correctly conjugate the past participle for the given sentences. The results of the first round were quickly announced. Anyone that received a passing grade got to go on to the second round, which I explained was to be a spelling bee. The administration told me that they understood, but when the day of the bee arrived, they had actually prepared a dictation! This time I was able to stop them before the dictation took place and we finally had a real spelling bee.

Once the real spelling bee started, I was appalled by how it went down. The name of the student was read, and the student would stand up. The word was read, and they were given the chance to spell it. Not only were there many problems with students spelling synonyms, but plural words were frequently given without context. In English it is different because we actually pronounce the “s” as the end of words. In French, that “s” is silent, making it really hard on the kids. If that wasn't bad enough, they had to spell with all the accents and call them by the correct name. When a student would spell the word incorrectly, the director of studies would say “You were wrong. You are eliminated. Thanks. Go home.” Just like that! No, good job, good effort, or anything that I've heard after losing something. I guess it was short and to the point, but the kids had a lot riding on this and were so disappointed when they messed up. Throughout the bee, I was so nervous for all of the kids I knew. It didn't take long until we were down to three kids, one of my 9^th graders and two of my 10^th graders. They battled it out for awhile until one kid, Amadou finally secured first place. Labilé and Yaya battled for a while until Yaya triumphed. My heart broke when I saw Labilé's face. He was so disappointed and was on the verge of tears. When Guineans are actually trying to do something, they put great importance on winning. They don't want to face the shame later on if they lose.

So that was that. I now had two weeks to get these kids ready for regionals, where they'd be in unknown territory, competing with kids from urban areas and much better schools. We spent every other night of the next two weeks studying at my house...and they seemed to be ready for the big day.

I didn't notice how quiet and nervous the kids were until we'd arrived. It was very adorable and fellow volunteer, Liz, did everything she could to help them relax. We all ate rice together and then spent the afternoon playing spoons, which they picked up very quickly, and had a blast playing. Before too long, my kids left with the kids who were hosting them. While talking with Liz, she pointed out that they seemed to feel most comfortable when I was around. “You are the only taste of home they have” she explained, which is ironic, because I'm the only strange thing “au village”.

All throughout the next morning, volunteers from the region started arriving. All the students sat around NOT talking, instead using their time to study for the bee. Finally, around 3pm, we headed for the bee! They had set up chairs, tables, and a sound system in the town's cultural center. There was a bigger crown anyone expected, and it was clear that all the kids were really nervous, and some appeared to be on the verge of tears. After all the judges were introduced, and the rules were announced, and it got underway. There were 2 phases. In phase 1, they would go around three times, and if they got two out of three words correct, they could continue to phase 2, which was more like a traditional bee. Here I was, like a parent nervous for my kids. Sadly, they did really poorly. They tried, but got zero out of the three words right. It's hard to say why. A lot of it was nerves, and some of it was not understanding the words and spelling synonyms instead. It was pretty tragic, because every other kid there got the two words right, sauf mes élèves. The rest of the bee didn't take long, because the students were eliminated quickly. The winners were two kids from a private school, which is kind of unfair if you ask me. All the other kids were from public school.

All of the losers were really depressed and almost in tears. My kids asked if they could go straight back to the village instead of going to the volleyball game and trip to the night club we had planned for them. It was already six, and way to late to head back to my village, so thankfully I was able to talk them into staying. The volleyball game was awesome. Our team was really bad, but it was still a blast. I'm looking forward to trying to teach my kids volleyball back at school.

So that was Guinea's first spelling bee! While my students didn't win, I still think it was a good experience for them. They really got a reality check. Not only did they get to see a little more of the country, they learned that even though they are numbers 1 and 2 in our school, they are going to have to work hard because they won't always be on top. It was also a reality check for me! It's going to be really hard getting my kids ready for the real world. I'm really nervous about the end-of-the-year test my 10 graders will take. I'll be a nervous wreck that whole week and until the results come out. I care about these kids more than I thought would be possible!

Pictures (Monkey Addition)

So I've been traveling for Peace Corps trainings during these past few weeks, and haven't had time to write a decent post. While I get my thoughts together for next week, please enjoy the pictures of monkeys I took at my neighbors house.

This guy likes to chase me to school sometimes. True story.

This is one of my students, and he was determined to get the her to look at the camera

And, because it might be the cutest picture I've ever taken, 

A Day in the Life

I've spent just about seven months here and I still don't have a many “standard” days. Nevertheless, as requested by one of my readers, I thought I'd describe some my day-to-day life for you.

SUNDAY

Sunday is day three of my weekend, so I'm usually pretty rested and ready to face market day. However, since I don't have to be up before dawn, I'll stay in bed until 8 or 9 before braving the world. The minute I open my door, it's a whirlwind of Susu greetings. “I xi. Tana mu xi? Heri xi?...” Once my door is opened, my neighbors bring over a crockpot of ye frais. Ye frais is a sickenly sweet, liquid breakfast food made with balls of flour, water, sugar, and tea, and no matter what I do, they continue to bring it to me on a daily basis. I appreciate the gesture, but I hate that I end up wasting it. After disposing of the ye frais, I'll go into the kitchen with a post-it and write out my shopping list. It usually looks a little something like this.

-onions

-garlic

-tomato paste

-potatoes

-laundry soap

-mustard

-…

You get the idea. Finally, I head to the market, dreading the chaos. On market day, the population of my village seems to triple and the space seems to shrink. Vans, trucks, and taxis come from all over and converge on little Coliah resulting in packed streets, cars everywhere, and the overwhelming sound of hundreds of people shouting the name and the price of what they are selling. I wade through the throng of people, running into students and friends, and weaving around the piles of onions, fabric, housewares, etc. Eventually, I end up at my favorite market lady's boutique where I can knock out about 50% of my list. As I continue to look for the rest, people scream fote at me, and ask where I need a taxi to...not believing me when I say I live here.

Due to the shear amount of people and traffic. I've adopted the the Getgo motto “Get in. Get out. Get going” and I'm usually back to my house before 10 am. So what do I do for the next 6-8 hours? I read, I write, I lesson plan for the week, and I usually take an hour to make a “decent” meal. After chowing down, I'll head to the well and fill up my buckets, and if I'm lucky they'll actually let me haul up the water. This always provides entertainment for the neighbors. While I do it just as well as they do, the fact that I'm white makes it hysterical.

Sundays really are my laziest day. As I mentioned, I'll read, lesson plan, and I'll often hammock in front of my house. This isn't as relaxing as you'd think. My neighbors will either sit around me and talk to me, or just wander over, greet me, and stare at my for five minutes before going back to what they were doing before. If I fall asleep, I'm always awoken by people yelling in Susu, KADIATOU HOW ARE YOU? YOU ARE SLEEPING? HAHAHA! They then turn to anyone around and say “look, the white person is sleeping in a hammock” in their mocking and sarcastic tone. When the sun starts to set, I'll head in, take my bucket bath, and eat dinner before barricading myself in for the night. And finally, before hitting the sack, I'll call the fam and talk for a solid one to two hours.

MONDAY

Mondays are a special day. By special, I mean really busy. I wake up at 6:30, get ready for school, and get the bugs, who had free run of my house all night, under control. I open up my door, the greetings start, and I wait for the crock pot to arrive. Once that has arrived, I head to school. On the way, I walk past the old ladies sweeping the road, and the sleepy market looking like a house the morning after a party. I greet the people who are up and about, and people scream fote at me. I continue walking to school where I'll see the sun rising over the mountains. I'm usually one of the first people at school, so I sit and wait for everyone else to arrive. At 7:45 the raise the flag. The students gather around the flag pole and sing as it's going up. At 8 I head to the classroom. Most of the students aren’t' there yet, and the chalkboard hasn't been erased. By 8:10 I can usually start class, where I spend the next hour and fifty minutes trying to do a lesson while continuously telling the kids to stop talking. Once my first class is over, I spend the 15 minute break eating a bean sandwich and taking my malaria meds. By 10:25 I'm able to start my next class which goes about as well as the first and before I know it, it's over. I then head to my final class of the day. English. At this point, the kids are antsy and won't shut up, so we get a small amount covered, and then I let them go. By now, it's 2 pm and I head home, stopping to buy hardboiled eggs, or bananas on the way. I quickly eat, and then collapse on the floor for a quick nap. At 3:30, I'm up and head back to school for “revisions.” Revision sessions are basically after-school tutoring. About half of my class will show up, and we spend the next two hours going over problems. At 6, the session is over, and I walk back with my students answering all of their English questions. Along the way, I am greeted by the villagers and my students cackle each time I use the local language. They proceed to ask “Madame. You speak a little Susu?” Upon arriving at the house, I take my buckets to the well and return the crock pot. After that, it's time to throw dinner together. By the time I'm done with dinner, night has fallen, so I shut my door and call it a day.

TUESDAY

Tuesdays are a little different in that I don't have school until noon! I can sleep in, do my laundry, and clean the house. I will also sometimes do “spa” days, be it painting my nails, shaving, or doing a face mask. After killing time all morning, I head to school for 10^th grade English. They laugh at lot at their pronunciation and sit there and talk the whole time while I tell them to SHUT UP. After class, I head home, grab my laptop, and immediately leave again. I walk to the taxi gare, where I sit in a plastic chair for the next two hours waiting for my computer to charge. During those two hours, I do an English lesson with the owner of a boutique, who is quite a character. He has a very fiery personality, and is quick to anger. I've had lessons abruptly end because he gets into fist fights or screaming matches with people. I'm also forced to eat rice and sauce which I force down and then gag on because it's so spicy. They then give me a bag of water and sit there howling because the fote can't handle her peppers. After English, I usually get held up by students who ask me to go over problems with them. Imagine teaching on a rickety chalkboard, in an alley, under the shade of a mango tree and having every passerby stare at the math as if it's sorcery. After two hours of this, I head home for the standard evening routine; water, dinner, reading, and writing.  

STANDARD

At long last, and as chosen by you, the following are the top five things I consider standard that definitely are not. And the results are...

5th PLACE How d'body? How d'business?

So thanks to colonization, English is spoken throughout much of Africa. However, what they call English wouldn't ever fly in the United States. It's normally some kind of mix between English and the local language, and an accent on top of it all. Guinea borders the countries of Sierra Leone and Liberia, both English speaking countries, so I run into people all the time who greet me in English. They don't ask how are you, instead my typical conversation goes like this [with my part in italics] “Good morning. “Good morning.” How d'body? “Fine?” “Good. How d'business?” “Fine?” This can go on for about five minutes and at that point I no longer understand anything coming out of their mouths, although they claim it's English. In fact, because I don't understand them, this leads to people claiming that I don't really speak English. I've had people here test me on my English to make sure that I can really speak it!

4^th PLACE The US. Is that in North or South America?

The US. Is that in North or South America? Obama is the President of all of that right? I always took it for granted that the United States of America was in North America. However, because both continents contain the word America, this causes some confusion around the rest of the world. North America, South America, Central America, it's almost as bad as the number of countries with the word “guinea” in them. In addition, I've had someone inform me that Obama was the President of both North and South America. News to me!

3^rd PLACE 8+ people...5 seats

In case you aren't familiar, the typical car fits four to five people. Two in the front and two to three in the back. It's hard to say exactly when this stopped being the case. A typical taxi is a 5 person car where they cram 4 people into the back row, and two into the passenger seat. That is if you are lucky. If you aren't lucky, there are 4 people in the back sitting in the seats, and then people sitting on the laps of those seated. In the front, they will often add a person to the drivers seat. Oh and don't forget about the people in the trunk and the ones riding on the roof. Talk about safe! While it's completely normal to have seven people in the car, I've had up to 11 in a 5 person car, and up to 18 in a 9 person car. If that wasn't bad enough, I've actually had rides with 8 people in the car and was happy about it! I consider a ride where my hips aren't crushed, the car doesn't break down, and where I don't get peed on a very successful voyage!

2^nd PLACE Screaming

Even though I'm a redhead and people always make references to my “fiery personality”, I'm usually a pretty calm person. I hate confrontations and worked at Getgo for years and never screamed at anyone. Then I came to Guinea. Sometimes the screaming isn't even out of anger (although it usually is). Being loud is just a part of the culture here. If you aren't VERY outspoken about something, they will assume you aren't serious. So for example when a taxi drivers yells at me to get in the car because we are leaving “toute de suite”, I yell at him saying I'll get in the car when we are actually about to leave, which I know will be two hours later and NOT right away.

When it comes to anger, I often surprise myself. It takes a lot to just walk out of the house every morning, and that snotty adult condescendingly yelling rude words at you can make you snap. I'll often scream at adults that I'm not an object, but a person, and that I have a name. I also scream that I don't have money to give them, and then there is always screaming at the people on motos who try to run you over. I'm sure I'm forgetting others, but you get the idea. I've gained extreme amounts of patience being here, but once I run out of that , it's all over. I just hope I can calm down before coming back to the states!

And the winner is...daily marriage proposals

When I say marriage proposals, they come from two different types of men. The stranger and the non-stranger. The stranger proposals happen every time I travel. Men will demand that I marry them and then actually become angry when I refuse! The proposals aren't very elaborate. They demand my money and a visa to the united states. They promise me I'll be happy, and they occasionally tell me I'm pretty, or fat. They do anything they can to get my number, and then just stare at me. If it weren't so obnoxious it would be really funny. I guess I get to enjoy it when I travel with other girls. When I'm with other girls the men usually target them leaving me to enjoy the scene and be thankful it's not happening to me.

The second type of proposals are from guys in my village. They greet me by my name and then they add their last name. They tell other people I'm their my wife and then ask what I cooked for them. While they are kind of joking, they really aren't, and so when I say I don't want them, they think I'm joking! Everyone in my village expects me to get married while I'm here and either take my new husband back to the states, or stay in Africa for the rest of my life. I mean, sure, it could happen...you never know!

So I hoped you enjoyed that, and I apologize for the delay! I was so busy this week I didn't even have two hours to waste charging a computer!  

PEACE CORPS GUINEA CHRISTMAS CAROLS

PEACE CORPS GUINEA CHRISTMAS CAROLS

I know this is coming a bit late...but there is still snow on the ground in the US. Enjoy!

THE CHRISTMAS SONG

Lesson planning by an open fire

Sweat drips slowly down your nose

Late night dance club plays it's music all night,

And folks getting bit by mosquitoes

Everybody knows a pizza and some nutella

Would be better than more rice

More petites than you could ever know

Will be salue-ing you tonight

They know that's foté's on his way

Just ask him once and he'll take you off to the states

But every villager is going to cry

When he sees I have no money for him or I

And so, I'm offering this simple phrase

To kids from Haute

To the Basse Cote,

Although it's been hot for the last 90 days,

Merry Christmas to you!

-Dante Bugli

GUINEAN JINGLE BELLS

Driving through the dust

In a neuf place bush taxi

O'er the bumps we go

Vomiting all the way.

Goats and babies scream,

Making my ears blood,

How cruel it is when neene

Elbows me in the guts tonight

CHORUS

Oh bush taxi, bush taxi

Breaking all the way.

Oh what fun it is to ride

In a yellow death trap today!

Bush taxi, bush taxi,

Sweating all the way.

Oh what fun it is to sit

In a traffic jam today!

A day or two ago,

I thought I'd take a ride

And soon this big tanti

Was seated by my side.

Her flappy boobs were out,

The driver was a grouch,

and a herd of cows fell asleep directly in our route

CHORUS

- Brian Brady and Courtney Clark

THE 12 DAYS OF CHRISTMAS IN GUINEA

On the 12^th day of Christmas, Guinea gave to me;

12 hours in a taxi

11 babies crying

10 tan lines

9 petits dancing

8 delicious mangoes

7 flat tires

6 mothers milking

5 vomit bags

4 broken windows

3 French men

2 crawling bugs

and a gendarme harassing me!

- Dante Bugli