Final Update

So I'm back. Where do I start you off? I've actually been back for about a month now. I'm doing a little trip around the states. I'm currently in St. Louis visiting my sister. Next is Montana, then California. I'm trying to see all those people who have moved away since I've been gone. Plus, I have no job or any other commitment to keep me in Bryn Athyn. Its very strange to be back. I'm not quite sure what to do with myself. My thoughts often drift back to Guinea. I look at my pictures a lot. I wonder how they're all doing. I need to get back there and see them. I need to get my life going.

For this blog I have mostly been telling you about my personal experiences and adding bits about Guinea relevant to me. I've sort of steered clear of the political situation up until my latest blog on corruption. The government of Guinea had only indirect effects on my service and thus it did not merit much attention in my blogs. However, about two and half months ago, the people of Guinea started their own little revolution to overthrow the president, Lansana Conte (pronounced 'contay'), and his corrupt government. As you might have guessed, this didn't go smoothly and Peace Corps Guinea was evacuated as a result. Just by coincidence this happened right at the end of my service. What a way to end it.

Before continuing, if you haven't yet read the first blog about Conte and the revolution, I suggest you read it. My friend Chris K managed to summarize it much better than I ever could. I'll just tell you a little bit about what happened with me in that context.

It was certainly an amazing thing to have been in Guinea for the two years leading up to this momentous period in their history. I saw a country abundantly rich in natural resources somehow spiral deeper and deeper into poverty while those working for Conte got richer and richer. I saw the price of just about everything quadruple while salaries remained more or less the same. I saw the citizens go from having a certain degree of reverence for their president to openly declaring their desire to see him removed from office. I saw a group of some of the most peaceful, easygoing people pushed to their limits. Violence is the last thing Guineans want and the fact that they were forced to these extremes blows my mind.

During my service, Peace Corps Guinea went on 'Standfast' four times. The first standfast took place in late December, 2005. Standfast, for Peace Corps, is a safety precaution and simply means that all volunteers must stay where they are and not travel anywhere. Those people who are at their sites have to check in everyday on their radio. Most of the standfasts were a direct result of the strikes and the possibility of violence. Up until this last strike everything thing was relatively peaceful. Volunteers often discussed the possibility of evacuation and by the time this last strike came, we were all thinking that something had to change soon or the people just wouldn't take it anymore. Conte never listened to them before, why would he listen to them this time?

Anyway, I was in Dabiss (my site, for those of you who don't know by know) for this last strike. I got there a few days before the strike began and stayed there for three weeks while I waited to see what would happen. The strike had been postponed over and over so I had no idea if it was going to happen or not. But it did. I'd done this before. No big deal. Something seemed slightly different about this one though. At the end of each day, all the men whipped out their radios and listened to the news from Conakry. As the strike went on, the situation got worse and worse. People started talking about Conte and how they wanted him out, something I'd never heard before. Before, it was just something you didn't do. You don't say bad things in public about your president, even if what you're saying is true. It's just something you don't do. No disrespect for authority figures, no matter how badly they treat you.

I would go around talking to the villagers, asking them what they thought about the situation and what they thought would happen. Every one of them would reply in the same way. "Oh, the strike is getting very serious. But nobody wants a war. We don't want to see any fighting. We don't think it will happen." Almost everyone assured me that it wouldn't get to the point where people started killing each other. I wasn't so sure. I kept telling them that if this strike went on much longer, I might get evacuated which means I would leave and never come back. They assured me it would be safe for me to stick around.

Of course, during this three week period I was preparing myself to leave Dabiss forever, just in case. I only had about a month left there anyway and even if we got temporarily 'consolidated' for a little while in another country, I was pretty sure I wouldn't be coming back. And as the strike continued, this possibility looked more and more likely. So I started saying my goodbyes. I secretly hoped that it wouldn't happen and I really had no idea if it would so I didn't tell people that I might be leaving. They were more like silent goodbyes. I preparing myself to leave. Spending more and more time with all the people. Making the most of my time left. Then one morning, I called to check in and they told me to pack my bags, that someone would pick me up the next day and within three days we'd all be driven across the country to Mali and wait out the rest of the strike. It was surreal. I walked back to my hut and started making piles of stuff to take home, stuff to leave with Peace Corps and stuff to give away. My service is over!! All of this, I'll never be in my town again. I didn't tell anybody. The next morning. I called to make sure it was actually happening that day. When I got the confirmation, I went down and told everyone. I took pictures and said my goodbyes. It all happened so quickly. Within a few hours I was gone.

In retrospect, this was actually a decent way for me to leave (excluding the country's situation of course). I had been agonizing over how to say goodbye to all these people I'd gotten so close to over the last two years. I wasn't going to leave for another month and the goodbyes were already beginning. They were going to be long, drawn-out and painful. This way, it was quick and very simple. I only regret not being able to say goodbye to those who weren't around that day and all my friends who lived in Boke. I also felt bad about leaving them in this worsening situation. But there was nothing I could do. Once again, like during my training, saying goodbye to my host mother was by far the hardest. I had a deeper relationship and understanding with her than I had with any other person and it was tough to think that I might never see her again. She'll always be with me and I really hope I have the chance to go back and see her.

I spent the next three weeks in the Peace Corps training site outside of Bamako, Mali with all 100 or so Guinea volunteers. Mali is a beautiful, amazing country, with a rich culture. Bamako is extremely developed compared to Conakry. The whole country seems to have its act together. All the roads are in good shape. There is reliable phone service. Though it is certainly a third-world country, it amazing to see the difference it makes when you have a government that is actually serving the interests of the people. It gives you hope for places like Guinea.

Anyways, we spent this time in Bamako closely monitoring the situation in Guinea debating whether or not we'd go back, trying to call friends and family who weren't so lucky as to be evacuated from all the danger. I was concerned about everyone I knew in Guinea but I was also happy in a way. I was happy to see that the people are finally doing what it takes to turn their country around. After being there for two years and watching things only get worse, it was so inspiring to see the people stand up for themselves. It brings tears to my eyes to think of all those Guineans I know who were willing to stand up to their oppressors and die for their country. I know how easy it is to complain about our own government, and though I know we're not perfect or anything, I'll never take it for granted.

On a lighter note, our 'consolidation' had some upsides. Since we had virtually no responsibilities during this time and since they gave us a per diem, we had plenty of time to explore the amazing city of Bamako and hang out with each other. It was like college, but with no classes. And as fun as it sounds, you can probably believe it also got pretty tiring after awhile. When we heard that the Embassy issued an 'ordered departure' for all US citizens, we knew that we weren't going back and people started the process of going home or transferring to other countries.

I recently bought a new laptop. Almost everyday I browse through all the pictures I took. It helps when I get lost in a daze on the internet. The supermarkets here are incredibly overwhelming. Too many options. Its strange that I have to get in a car and drive everyday when I need to get somewhere. I miss the community feeling you get when you're Africa. I miss greeting strangers on the streets. Its so good to see all my family and friends. I love all the fancy gadgets and good food we get here. I saw that movie "An Inconvenient Truth" and I think about how its a luxury to even be able to worry about global warming. It sure is scary, but its so strange to come from a place where this is a non-issue. Its a problem that will surely affect Africa in someway someday, but it originated elsewhere and there's nothing they can do to fix it. Life seems so much simpler over there. I miss it badly. I'm already thinking about how and when I'm going to go back and visit or work in Africa. I want to know that my family over there is OK. I can't imagine what it must have been like for them. I just want to be there right now. I feel out of place here and I have no idea what I'm going to do with myself. I can't really describe to you what it was like to live in Dabiss for two years and how accustomed I was to life there. It changed me deeply. It was unforgettable. If any of you or anyone you know is thinking of doing Peace Corps, feel free to contact me. I have a lot to say about it. Thanks to all of you for reading my thoughts and stories. Take care,

Anders

Things are going a little more smoothly now in Guinea. Lansana Conte appointed a prime minister who was chosen by the labor unions and accepted by the people. The new prime minister, Mr. Kouyaté assembled an entirely new government that Conté has approved. In his broadcast to the people Mr. Kouyaté is quoted as saying: "I have formed a government team which the president has seen fit to accept, and which will immediately tackle the problems we face" (Full arictle- http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/africa/6505263.stm)

Read first - Chris K's letter

This is a letter from an older Guinea volunteer who was closely monitoring the situation in Guinea. He put together a great little paper on what happened. Here it is...

Dear friend,

As you know, I served two years as a Peace Corps Volunteer in Guinea , West Africa teaching English in a small town called Tougué. Everyday living was difficult for most Guineans and has only gotten worse in recent months. An example: A 50kg bag of rice, which cost 50,000fg back in July 2004, is today sold at 500,000fg. Meanwhile, a civil servant's salary has stag nate d at around 600.000fg/month (much less for teachers and other low-ranking employees), meaning that a month's supply of food often exceeds a civil servant's entire monthly salary. In addition, government salaries are often withheld and delayed for no reason. Many teachers weren't paid for more than 8 months last year.

I left Guinea in June 2006 to the sounds of gunfire in the streets of the capital. The country was then in the midst of a general strike demanding for wage increases. Guineans were telling us at that time that the situation couldn't hold out much longer. At the last minute, however, the government was able to hold off political protests by promising an 10% wage hike to all state employees. Eight months later, it has never delivered on even this meager promise and last month, the issue came to a head when jilted union leaders galvanized to launch an unlimited general strike to absolutely paralyze all activity in the country.

The goal of this new strike was to see that the original promises of wage increases be met, along with with new price controls on basic commodities (rice, kerosene for lamps, and gas for transportation) so that Guineans could continue to work and feed their families. The strike relaunched peacefully on January 10th, but the government made it clear early on that it was unwilling to make concessions. And the strike leaders decided to make the strike political for the first time in recent years, demanding sweeping government reforms, including the creation of a new post to handle executive duties.

Why the government has shown itself unable to meet the strike leaders demands is not hard to understand if you've followed the Guinean economy: The government is bankrupt, the result of decadent and systematic corruption over recent years that earned Guinea a ranking as the second most corrupt country in the world (source: Transparency International study, 2006). Most news agencies have taken to describing the government as "kleptocracy:" Those who own posts of power steal money destined to fund projects and development to buy themselves mansions and Mercedes. In short, the country languishes in poverty and fails to provide basic services, such as electricity and running water, in its capital and major cities (the vast majority of the country has never been electrified and is without running water).

As the government has shown itself unwilling and unable to carry out its basic functions, strike leaders changed their demands in late January, demanding that President Lansana Conté and his entire Congress step down from power. On January 22nd, tens of thousands of ordinary Guineans spontaneously took to the streets, carrying banners such as "We are ready to die for change." President Conté obliged them, ordering the army to open fire on protesters on the crowds. More than 60 people were killed in confrontations across the country on that day.

Conté, for those unfamiliar with him, is a former Guinean military colonel, "a chain-smoking diabetic" (source: Reuters) who has never completed high school and crowned himself General upon assuming power in a bloodless coup after the death of the country's previous president-turned-dictator, Ahmed Sékou Touré. He added the title "President" after a rigged election several years later to appease donor nations. After the bloodbath of the 22nd, Conté offered no apology for his actions, crowing instead that he has "never lost a war." Such a comment shows that he views a popular movements by his own citizens as an act of war and has no compunction about razing his country and killing his own people in order to "win" another.

A few days after the bloodshed of the 22nd, union leaders and the president reached a tentative compromise, through which the president would cede almost all executive power to a Prime Minister chosen from a list of candidates provided by union leaders. Two tense weeks passed with only sporadic violence. Then, last weekend, the president named his new PM, choosing someone not only not on the list of candidates, but whose previous job experience comes from rigging Conté's most recent landslide election victory in 2002. As one of my fellow volunteers still in country wrote, "it's as if Conté himself spit in the face of each and every Guinean."

Upon hearing news of the nomination this weekend, many Guineans, well aware of the risks they were taking, took to the streets again, this time with a view towards destroying the palatial estates of many of those close to Conté who've benefited from his corrupt reign. The army, however, was prepared, and responded to the new wave of protests with tanks and urban assault vehicles. At least 20 people are estimated to have died on Monday, and many more the next day. Conté refused to retract his nomination and instead declared a state of siege in the country for the next two weeks, banning all traffic, pedestrian and vehicular, but for four hours during the day. He has given the army explicit orders to shoot on sight any violators.

All this means, of course, the end of Peace Corps in Guinea (all current volunteers have long since been safely evacuated and are sitting in limbo in Bamako , Mali awaiting word if they can transfer to other countries in West Africa or if they must go home). All other humanitarian agencies are evacuating the country, but as all commercial flights in or out of the country have been suspended, many are still stuck in the capital. The U.S. Embassy yesterday evacuated all its non-essential personnel.

Can one dictator suppress the will of the people? Conté has shown himself determined to see his reign through to the bitter end, while preening his son, "Captain" (a fictitious title) Ousmane Conté, to succeed him upon his death. Conté has also shown his dictatorial reach in withdrawing a million dollars in personal funds to hire 400 mercenaries (former rebels Conté supported in Liberia's recent civil war) to protect him and his possessions and to send his wives and children to France. He even has allowed foreign soldiers from neighboring Guinea-Bissau into the capital last month to help put down the violent protests, when he feared his own soldiers would hesitate shooting at their fellow countrymen.

In recent days, Conté has further tightened his grip on the country. He refuses to receive delegates from neighboring West African states who seek to facilitate peace talks between the government and strike leaders. In the last week, he has shut down all private radio stations after one called for his removal from power. He regularly disrupts service of the state-run telephone company in order to prevent citizens from organizing against him. Two days ago, he handed out promotions to everyone currently enrolled in the army (turning all privates into corporals, all captains into majors, and so on), regardless of merit, as a means of increasing pay and ensuring loyalty within the ranks.

This new found level in carnage and bloodshed in a country I just recently knew as easy-going and peaceful is hard to fathom. When I was a volunteer, Guineans constantly amazed me for their tolerance for living conditions most would find impossible. My friends got by somehow, always peaceful and almost always friendly--with a healthy amount of what-can-you-do complaining, of course. This has changed in less than a year and now I'm hearing from these same people that the deaths of their countrymen in recent days will not be forgotten and that they, too, will fight to bring an end to Conté's reign. I want to emphasize what a remarkable transformation it is to hear this new resolve in the voices and actions of ordinary people. Perhaps it is the natural, though long-overdue reaction, of a people who've been pushed to the brink.

Who will break first? I would optimistically assume the government, but given Conté's delusions (he's quoted as saying Guineans must to accept his rule as "the will of God"), I'm loathe to imagine how far he is willing to go to ensure the succession of his rule passes from father to son, and how many Guineans he's willing to take with him, in order to realize that nightmarish vision, as the country spirals into anarchy. We can only wait and watch.

I'm asking that you please keep Guinea and Guineans in your thoughts over the next few weeks. Even if you know nothing else of country, know this: 10 million people who've suffered under the yoke of oppression for 50 years under French colonization, and then for 50 more under barely disguised dictators, are standing up for what they believe in and doing whatever they can to bring an end to a kleptocracy, risking their lives and those of their families in doing so.

Here are a few English websites for staying up-to-date on what's happening: http://www.irinnews.org/frontpage.asp?SelectRegion=West_Africa ( http://www.irinnews.org/report.asp?ReportID=57604&SelectRegion=West_Africa&SelectCountry=Guinea )

www.bbcafrica.com ( http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/africa/6355873.stm )

www.reuters.com ( http://today.reuters.com/news/CrisesArticle.aspx?storyId=L12889231)

Feel free to pass this email on to others so that we don't allow another tragedy in our world to unfold without our even being aware.

Take care,

Chris Kirchgasler
Peace Corps Volunteer , Guinea (2004-06)

Corruption

This will be a short one, but I think interesting. I mentioned last email that corruption is the biggest obstacle to development over here. Well it turns out guinea is a world leader. Check it out.

Last night, walking back from a bar at night, two volunteers were accosted by about seven military officers who pulled up in a van and tried to take them away. After plenty of resistance they were finally let go, though they discovered that there was over 100.000 Guinean francs missing from their bags.

Meanwhile I have to go back to site soon and oversee a nutrition training at my health center. My funds for this project are being slimmed down by the local chef who won't allow it unless a little money finds its way into his pocket. Of course, you can't put that in the budget.

Many Guineans here eat imported rice even though this country produces far more of its own rice than it could ever consume. Why? Because the president owns a sizable portion of the rice plantations here and exports all of his rice. Where does that money go? His pocket naturally.

Tieken Jah Fakoly, a huge reggae music star in Africa was slated to come play in Conakry about 1 month ago. His music is very political and he speaks out strongly against corruption in Africa. At the last minute, the Guinean government told him that he couldn't play his concert essentially because they didn't want his message spread over here. They didn't want to look bad. I'm sorry, but Tieken isn't telling them anything they don't already know. And what looks worse? Ask any Guinean why the gov't refused and they'll say its because Tieken 'speaks the truth'. They are against people speaking the truth. It just sounds bad.

If I don't have you convinced yet, check out this article.
http://www.cnn.com/2006/BUSINESS/11/06/corruption.survey.reut/index.html
We're the most corrupt in Africa. We're tied with Iraq. Thats gotta tell you something.

Anyways, I'm still having a blast. The kids are cute and innocent. Bennett is here visiting and its great to hang out with him. I hope you all are well.

Anders

Return from Paradise!

Well well well. In case you were all worried, I haven't yet been swallowed up by the jungle. I'm still in Guinea and everything is going swimmingly. By that I mean that I've mostly been swimming for the past couple months. Seriously, the rainy season has suddenly turned the dry river bed next to our village into a gurgling brook. As it turns out, this newly formed river is perfect for swimming. So, I bought some goggles when I was in the states on vacation and brought them here. I found a perfect place in the river that allows me some privacy and the current is just right so that I can swim against the current and basically stay in the same spot. Its a cure for boredom, it helps me stay in shape, and it has allowed for some very interesting exchanges between me and the stray villagers who often come down to wash their clothes, bathe, or draw water. The goggles and bright white skin are strange enough, but when I get in the water and try to swim against the current, it's really quite fascinating. Most of the time I pop my head up, I see they have stopped whatever they are doing in order to focus all of their energy on staring at me. But people are starting to get used to it. And I love it. I've always loved swimming, but this is a whole other experience. Despite a modest (and not totally irrational) fear of alligators, I enjoy watching the fish that swim by, the underwater plant life, and the little kids who make small talk and try to mimic me while I rest. It also provides a refreshing break from the heat. And to top it off, when I'm done my workout, I can chase away the kids and then bathe right there in the river. There is really nothing like it. I'm afraid that when I get back to Dabiss after my short stint in Conakry here that the river will be suffering from the approaching dry season and thus be too low to swim in. Either way, I glad that I took advantage of that while I could.

Coming back from the states was an interesting experience. I had gained about 15 pounds while at home and when I got back into Guinea, people could tell that I had beefed up. And Guineans love to point out that kind of stuff. Telling someone that he 'grew' or 'got fatter' since you last saw him, is considered a compliment. I'm used to that. Sometimes they'll say that to me after I've been in Boke for a week just because they want to be nice. But this time I came back, they felt the need to really impress on me the extent to which I had gotten fatter. So they didn't say the normal, 'you've grown' or 'you got fatter'. They would look me earnestly in the eyes and just say, 'Boubacar, you are fat.' It was a big deal. Fortunately, I was fairly sure that that 15 pounds would go quick, which it already has. Anyway, the more somber aspect of this story is that when I got back, Guinea was about three quarters of the way through their 'hungry' season and while I was fatter, everyone else was noticeably skinnier. Too skinny. It was sad and I felt kind of guilty. People would see that I had been home eating good food and gaining weight, while they were here getting by on an increasingly meager diet, waiting for the harvest to come. Last year, the hungry season wasn't quite as noticeable to me. This year I was all too aware. What's worse is that right when the harvest does come and people finally have food and money, Ramadan, the month of fasting, begins. You all know about that already.

In other news, things are going...I am writing, its in my journal mostly, but its writing. What's interesting to me is that in my journal these days, my reflections are less about new discoveries and experiences and reflections on Guinean life and more about how I fit in here, my emotional state and what I want to do in the future. In Dabiss especially, I feel like I've already done everything there is to do. I know the language, the culture, etc. Nothing is new. Not to sound depressing, because I'm not depressed, but its interesting how I reflect on life here now that I'm used to everything. For example, I understand enough about this culture to know that Americans are different from Guineans in some very fundamental ways. More specifically, I am different. I realize that 2 years is a good amount of time to spend in the Peace Corps. I realize that I really wouldn't be able to live in a place like this. I wouldn't be able to be the best that I can be or find the kind of fulfillment that I'm looking for while living at the village level.

There isn't enough intellectual stimulation I think. For example, they still don't really believe or understand how someone could spend so much of their time reading everyday. Most people are illiterate and those who aren't don't seem to really understand the function of a written language, which I think is to communicate ideas. As a result, people still assume that if I am in my hut than I am lying down, either sleeping or resting. It doesn't seem to matter how many times I tell them the contrary.

Another realization I've recently stumbled upon is that this is a virtually lawless country and I'm to used to living in a world where people are held more or less accountable for their actions. Not only is there no law enforcement, but the people who are meant to enforce the laws are the biggest criminals. If you ask any volunteers what the biggest obstacle to development here is, they will say corruption - i.e. people using public office as a route to personal wealth. I won't go in to this really, because the point is that I am focusing more on how I fit in. I couldn't live in this country because I would constantly be aware of how much my rights are being violated. I feel like I wouldn't have the right to 'pursue happiness'. Again, for the purposes of time, I will not elaborate. And these are things that could change, but its something that the people here will eventually need to recognize and change themselves. I feel slightly disillusioned with development work. That I will go into some other time. I'm optimistic that it will happen.

OK, see you later - Anders

p.s. I recently tried showing some kids that trick where you pretend to pull off the tip of your thumb. Man do they bite hard on that one! I often have kids run away in fright when I do it. Other kids ask questions like, 'Does it hurt?' 'Why aren't you bleeding?' 'Are you gonna put it back?'. Basically, it was a huge hit. Now its not uncommon for a kid to mimic me in passing by trying to pull off his own thumb.

Pounding Fish Poison Wood

So, let's see. I haven't been writing as frequently as I'd like to but I figured that as my service progressed, my emailing would decline, which it has. But it's cool, cause I figure that by this point I've been gone long enough that you all are used to my absence and not needing updates on my life. Plus, I've reached a level of comfort here that makes my everyday adventures seem much more normal and perhaps less interesting. Though I often find it interesting how at home I feel in a place which is still strange and completely different from where I was raised. Anyway, I'd like to continue writing even if its infrequent and I'll try my best to hold your interest. I don't know what to focus on exactly so I think I'll do several paragraphs on various topics.

The bread project is officially underway. I now have fresh bread to eat straight from the oven most mornings. The women's groupement I am working with, while good at managing their money, has no experience running a business, which has created some issues. I may do a little training with them soon on how to fix certain problems they've encountered and to figure out ways they can maximize their profit. Nevertheless, the women are profiting from it, the bread is actually quite good, and there is always a demand for more.

My other bigger project at the moment is mosquito nets. I mentioned this last time and had some questions about it. We (my health center counterparts and me) started working with PSI who subsidize impregnated mosquito nets to be sold in health centers for pregnant women and women with children under five years old for a very cheap price. They're sold at the health center at 5.000 GNF (about $1 US) which is an amazingly good deal and most people want to buy them. The hard part is getting them out to more remote areas. So I've been riding all over the place with my friend Abdulai and we sell mosquito nets and inform people on the danger of malaria for children and pregnant women. Besides being an incredible cultural experience for me, it is also rewarding and Abdulai makes a little bit of money for himself while he's at it. We are warmly welcomed and often fed wherever we go. We go into people's houses and show them how to put it up and everybody is thankful. My only complaint would be that I'm often stuck riding my bike in the middle of the day, under the brutal sun, during the hottest part of the day. PSI also sells nets to local merchants to be sold closer to 10.000 GNF in the markets for people that aren't pregnant women or women with children. They also train them on how to market them and create a general awareness of malaria and its dangers. (side note - I've heard that malaria may actually start to die out naturally, apparently some kinds of malaria are now starting to kill the mosquitoes themselves. nice, right?)

Not to be a downer, but I feel like there has been an unusual number of deaths in my village since I've been there. Its been really eye-opening for me to see how these people deal with and talk about death. It's also been an interesting journey for me to be exposed to death on a more regular basis or at least in a more intimate way. I feel like at home, death is less unexpected and it often happens in old age. It is also a subject people tend to avoid. Here, it seems like it can happen any time and people deal with it head-on when it comes. A few examples. First off, a woman named Maimouna Sampou died about 2 months ago. This was a woman I knew well. She was my neighbor, the mother of three close friends (Moussa, the fishing guy, Ousman, 12 years old, and Hawa), and a member of the women's groupement I was working with. I'd guess she was probably around 35-40 years old. I ran into to Moussa one day as he was biking to Boke and I was biking to Dabiss. He said Maimouna had just been sent to the Boke hospital for a bad toothache. Later that night, word reached Dabiss that she had died shortly after the tooth was pulled and the entire village began weeping together at her house, right outside of mine. I'm guessing it was a cavity that got extremely infected. It was unexpected and a lot of people were quite upset, including myself. She was a prominent and well-loved woman in Dabiss. The mourning process, which I've described before, lasted over 24 hours and was draining. All because Maimouna had no access to dental care. That was a hard one.

About three weeks ago, a kid about 11 years old was high up in a mango tree trying to knock down ripe mangoes and fell. He broke his femur badly enough that the bone was sticking out of the skin. I got there right after Mr. Diallo bandaged and splinted him. This kids pain was palpable. His family refused to send him to Boke and had a "traditional" doctor care for him in Dabiss. Most likely, they simply couldn't afford to pay hospital bills and transport in Boke. The kid died three days later, just after they decided to send him to Boke. The doctors there said that he had also broken his hip and knee during the fall. This may seem like a freak accident, but the mango tree incidents are fairly frequent in this country.

This final story, though it involves a death, is more uplifting but will be difficult to describe. It involves my two health center counterparts, Mr. Diallo and Mr. Tolno. Mr. Diallo used to be the health center chef but was suspended for the last 10 months because his moto was stolen. He was just recently allowed to return to work. He is a doctor though Tolno is now the chef. Mr. Tolno was the vaccinator back when Diallo was in charge. He's a "community agent", which means he never studied medicine in school but has done some training and taken a few health courses. He became health center chef when Diallo was suspended and has become used to the position. Tolno is a really really nice guy and has good intentions but is a pretty ineffective health worker. Diallo, on the other hand, is my new hero. Here's what happened. Tolno and I were at the health center the other day and we had just received a big load of mosquito nets. Tolno was very excited. As soon as PSI left, a father came up to Tolno and pointed to his wife and baby child. The child was maybe 4 months old and had a serious case of malaria. You could tell by looking at it that it was on the verge of death. Emergency right? Well, from the Tolno was acting, you would never have guessed. He walked right in the health center and over to the nets and started looking over them with contented smile on his face. He immediately disregarded the child and distracted himself. Now, please don't think I'm trying to paint Tolno as a bad person, his lack of urgency wasn't actually surprising at all. This is how many health care workers operate here. I don't know why. Most likely he probably just figured that the child could wait a few more minutes and was sincerely more interested in inspecting the new nets. It was especially disturbing to me in this case. I told him that I'd put away the nets so he can attend to the baby, wishing that Diallo could show up from his vaccination trip. I left the health center and came back about 30 minutes later, when Diallo had come back. I walked into a scene that will stay in my memory forever. Diallo was there and he was visibly moved at the sight of this sick baby. He infused that sense of urgency into the room that needed to be there. He was moving around, taking temperatures, wrapping the baby in cool wet cloths to cool his 102-103 fever. He was talking to the mother, asking her why she had never once come to the health center for a consultation, not even after giving birth. Why she had no mosquito net for her child. He was working with such extreme passion and care. Its really quite rare that I see someone who is as passionate about his work in this country as he is. After he had done all he could, we were all just sitting together in the same room with the baby. The sun was setting outside the window and he started talking about how babies should never die. He said that if people take the basic precautions to protect the health of their children, they should never die. He said that the people who grow up are the ones who must die, not the young ones. He talked about how people say, when a baby dies here, 'Oh, it was God's will. God killed this baby'. But it is people's ignorance that usually kills a baby. He was really upset. Now, I think Guineans' strong faith in God is a good thing and I know that conditions make it very hard to keep a baby healthy here, but Diallo was doing something amazing. He was talking about how health care should and could work in this country. He was talking about the need to develop and I could see so clearly that he knew how to do it. But the most moving thing was his passion. He deeply cared about this stuff and his intentions seemed so pure. I had chills running through me. What was interesting was that it was such a dramatic and unusual occurrence, that it made Tolno visibly uncomfortable. I was in a trance. No one is used to seeing a Guinean health agent behave that way. I had never seen someone act that way. So anyway, Diallo became my new hero from that moment on. He's also really cool guy and I love hanging out with him. The next day, I asked Diallo how the baby was doing and he said it died during the night. So it goes.

Let's see... On a different note, my neighbor Moussa returned late from working in the field one day with a friend. We were all sitting at the boutique talking casually when he rolled up in a taxi and pulled up strangely close to where we were sitting. He got out of the car without a word and went to the trunk. All at once he popped it open and lifted a 20 foot long snake out of the trunk and flung it at our feet with dramatic flair. Those who didn't pee their pants and take off running soon noticed that the head of the snake had been chopped off. And though the snake was dead, its muscles caused it to unwind and straighten out after being in the trunk, which made it seem very much alive. In the next 30 minutes, I watched them pull the entire skin off in one piece (which took some real work), remove the long stringy heart, cook it, eat it, and the divide the rest of the meat up between friends and family. The next night I had snake meat in my rice and sauce and I must say it was quite delicious. You should really try it sometime.

I got up the other morning and Moussa asked me if I wanted to go catch some fish the other morning. I said yes I'd meet him there at the river in a little bit. I got some petites to take me to the location. Petites, by the way, have an incredible knowledge of the woods and an excellent sense of direction. As I we headed there, I was wondering how we would be able to catch any fish since we are now at the end of the dry season and the river was nothing more than a series of connected stagnant pools. I'm not a fisherman, but it didn't seem like prime fishing conditions to me. Turns out they weren't fishing. I got to the river to see a group of about 5 or 6 boys and 4 guys closer to my age. They were all spaced apart across a section of the river pounding wood on either rocks or logs or the river bank. It was a very casual, relaxed atmosphere. It was also bizarre. We were thankfully shaded by the overhanging trees from the forest and the guys, in between the pounding, prepared tea, smoked, and bantered. Each person had a club, made of some stronger wood, and with it, they were pounding other branches into pulp, continuously dousing in the river. I didn't see any fish yet and I wasn't sure how pounding wood could accomplish the task. But I decided to help out anyway and started pounding (my hands are still blistered today). What I saw after that was pretty amazing. The wood, when pounded, released a milky liquid onto the surface of the water. They told me the fish would come and drink it and then either die or get "drunk" and therefore be quite easy to catch. I was still doubtful when we finished the pounding and took a rest to wait for the poison to set in. Sure enough, after about 30 minutes, tiny little dead fish began floating to the surface, some bigger than others, but mostly sardines. Then the big guys came. They didn't die, and I had trouble spotting them, but the petites were catching them like crazy. I'm talking about fish up to two feet long, that are so drunk on the wood stuff, that a young kid can dive underwater without being able to see and catch it with his hands. Other large fish would come break the surface of the water and rest there long enough for one of the guys to come by and swiftly slice its head off with a machete before it submerged again. It was pretty amazing. On my way back into the village people asked me where I had been and I told them I'd been fishing, I didn't know exactly how to describe it in Landuma. They then told me what to say. You're supposed to say, "I was out pounding fish poison wood".

So that's all I got for the moment. It's a lot, I know. A lot has happened. Like I said, I'm pretty used to my life here, but things are still absolutely crazy sometimes. Everyday I think about how much time I have left here as if I were dying to get out. Yet I'm amazed how often I find myself in a situation where I'm nothing but thankful to be where I am and in awe of the infinite diversity in this world. Some of it is not always easy to deal with it but all of it is worth it. I have no regrets about my experience so far. I hope you are well back home. I still think of you often. Love,

Anders

p.s. - This is my new email address. I'll still check my old one but I hope to eventually move everything here. Write back if you get the chance. Let me know if you have questions about whats going on over here in Guinea.

One year in

Let's see, I'm one year in, what do I have to report? Guinea is still really hot. My hut is still pretty small. I'm now experiencing things I've experienced once before in this country, such as dry season, the islamic holiday of Tabaski, and the Harmattan winds which make this place a huge dustcloud at times. Somehow I haven't gotten sick yet, and I was really getting baffled as to why. It's not like I'm taking many precautions these days in terms of drinking water and food choice. Someone told me I could have amoebas, worms, and other parasites living inside of me without having any symptoms. So I got myself tested today. Prognosis negative! How can this be? I must have rocks in my stomach. And I think my asthma has dissappeared as well. So I'm still thankful for my health. Yet another new stage has arrived in country. G11. Yet another reminder of how long I've been i!n thisplace, as if I needed one. I just spent their first week in country with them and I'm really excited to have them here. I was answering questions like crazy, it reminded me of when we first arrived here. It also brought to light the fact that I do know some things about this country. I also realized that there were several things I didn't know, & in most cases I tried not to pretend like I did. When you spend most of your time in a small village and are only able to speak on a basic language level, you don't learn much about the politics and agriculture of the country. Of course, I could have learned about those things, but honestly, its not what interests me. I left those questions to other volunteers. Anyways, G11. It's a large group packed with many interesting characters. New blood! This means a few things. G7 is about to leave this country (a group which includes Athena! Childs,some of you may know her, congratulations Athena) making us juniors. It also means I will getting some new neighbors soon, hopefully the really interesting and fun ones. Finally, it signals the start of my second year, which is supposed to pass much faster than the first. So what do I have planned for the next year?

Well, my bread oven is now built and when I arrive back in Dabiss in a couple days with the last ingredient, a metal door, I will be living in luxury, eating freshly baked bread every day. Thats enough to get me to the finish line. My work in general is going very well. I'm at a level of comfort with my village that I feel like I can pursue the route that most inspires me. Right now I think it is selling mosquito nets. Though I may start working in our primary school as well. Kids are cute. My language is acceptable, though I'd love to get some more Landuma down. Thi!s meansan actual effort to spend some more time at site. I hope I can do this. The language thing is fun. My french is also passable, at least in Guinean standards. However, I think a frenchman would laugh at me, if he could me understand me. I hear 'real' french on TV and can't understand a thing. Oh well. I think my english is suffering as a result of all this language learning as well. I don't get to practice it as much. It just gets worser and worser. I have some cultural goals as well. For example, I plan on getting out and working in the fields every once in awhile. Considering the fact that about 80 percent of the people in this country are farmers, it would be good to have an idea of what the typical workday is like. I hear its not easy. Plus, you get a whole lot of respect for a day or two of work in the field, because you understand the "suffrance". That and having a beard.&nbs!p;(already covered) I plan on exploring the outlying villages a little more as well. I'm sure there's plenty of health education to be done out there, but it would also help with language and be a fun adventure in general. More sitting around with random families and seeing how long I can carry on a conversation, or how long I can sit comfortably in silence. I may start trying other people's rice and sauce as well. Cooking in my hut is getting less and less appealing and for reasons that totally escape me, rice is not.

Yesterday I was in the PCV house in Conakry and I had just stepped out of the shower when I heard a tremendous roar from outside. I stepped out on the balcony and listened to the celebrations of Guinea's impending victory over South Africa in the Africa cup. We scored to go up 1-0 with 2 minutes left and then won 2-0 apparently. A huge upset. We weren't allowed outside o!f thecompound yesterday because there were riots throughout Conakry in anticipation of the upcoming match. Burning tires, fights, rampages, all that stuff. They love soccer here. So for my own safety, pray that Guinea wins this cup. And that the ameobes don't find their way into my digestive system, they're plotting an attack, I just know it. Anyway, thats all that I'm going to write for now. Let me know if you have questions or topics you'd like me to cover. I've gotten good practice from G11. And if its something I don't know about, I'll tell you why I don't know. I love you all, I hope things are going well...

Anders

Ramadan 2005 ends

Hey,

It’s been awhile since I’ve written. Time is passing so quickly now. I often forget to think about what’s going on back home. That’s not to say I don’t think of my friends and family all the time. It also doesn’t mean I’ve stopped counting the number of months I’ve been here and how many I have left (10 down, 17 to go). It simply means my life feels normal enough and I’m keeping myself occupied. I guess I’ve resigned myself to the fact that I’m here for awhile and so I don’t always wonder what I’m missing at home. My life is here now. For example, when I wake up in the morning, I expect to hear Landuma being spoken outside of my hut, not English. I expect the sound of women pounding rice and prayer calls from the mosque. My dreams are now a strange mix of my life in Africa and people and places from America. I hear Landuma in my dreams and still don’t understand. Being hot and sweating all the time is normal. Hot weather has become mild and really hot is now just hot. I’ve eaten more rice in 10 months than I thought I would ever have eaten in my life. And I like it. If I haven’t had rice today, I haven’t eaten. Or at least it feels that way. I forgot that life still goes on around me. I forgot that back home, school has started again, Charter Day has come and gone and winter is beginning. I forgot that the temperature actually changes in some parts of the world. But it’s OK, ‘cause I’m remembering now.

Right now, I’m sitting under my bed which is now a loft. I had it raised in order to free up a little space in my tiny hut. I also have a new, extremely comfortable chair. The frame was welded together from iron bars by a guy I found in Boké who calls himself MetraSuma (?). I stitched together some empty rice sacks to make the seat and back. You really have to see it and sit in it to know how comfy it is. I’ve already logged many hours in this chair and the rice sacks are starting to form to my body. It’s nice.

Yesterday was a big holiday in Dabiss and all throughout Guinea. It marked the end of the month of Ramadan and this holiday is probably the equivalent of Christmas for us. For those of you not well-acquainted with Islam, Ramadan is the holy month in which God began revealing the Koran to Prophet Muhammad. Muslims commemorate this month with fasting and extra devotional prayers. Now if you didn’t know that, don’t feel bad, the only reason I do is ‘cause someone just lent me The Koran for Dummies (no joke). However, I wouldn’t have needed The Koran for Dummies to know about the fasting because they make it very clear that they are. And they never fail to remind you if you forget. And they also never fail to give you a hard time if you’re not fasting, Muslim or not. However, I fasted about 12 out of the 30 days, so they laid off me most of the time.

Fasting during Ramadan, in Guinea at least, means that from dawn to sunset, you must not eat or drink. This means that each morning, my neighbors all get up before sunrise (4:30 – 5:00 A.M) and have their morning meal. After that, nothing enters the body until sundown. The food part isn’t terrible, it’s the water part that kills you. And most people are still working 5 or 6 hours each day in the field under the hot African sun. Many of them don’t even swallow their saliva. This means lots and lots of spitting. It got repulsive after a while and seemed like too much to me. I never did the spitting thing.

Now bear with me as I write a little about the religious meaning behind all this. I find it interesting and maybe you do, too. If not, feel free to skip. As far as I know, there are two reasons for fasting. One is that fasting makes you more conscious of God. I think the idea is that by depriving the body of food, sex, and water for the sake of God, we become more conscious of God’s presence inside ourselves with each feeling of hunger and thirst. According to the Koran (actually The Koran for Dummies), if we can deprive ourselves of life’s basic necessities for the sake of God, we can surely learn not to indulge in our more destructive behaviors. The other purpose of fasting is that it makes us more thankful toward God. It is also supposed to make apparent the hardship and suffering that others go through every day of the year due to poverty, war, disease, drought, and so on. I find this second reason especially interesting given my context. I don’t think I need to explain how poor Guinea is again. If you were to come here and observe daily life, you might wonder how these people could be thankful for anything considering what they have. You might also wonder how and why they fast for 30 days when finding food is already a huge challenge. It’s pretty amazing. And what’s really amazing to me is how spiritually fulfilled these people are despite living under such primitive and difficult conditions. Seriously, it’s one of the first things I noticed here. Everyone is happy, nice, and generous. They may be materially poor, but they are spiritually rich, or at least it seems that way to me.

Now I’m not a Muslim, but I believe in God and support the idea behind fasting. It’s a good exercise in self control. That’s why I did it. Plus, it is also a great way to build community. Everyone comes together each day to pray and everyone breaks fast together as well. For me, it was nice because I felt a lot of acceptance from everyone for doing some of the fast. For some reason, people thought I wouldn’t be able to do it. I was like, “Hello? You haven’t noticed yet that I just sit in my hut and read all day while everyone else labors in the field? How do you do it?”

OK, time to wrap things up. Everything is going well for me over here. Dabiss is treating me very well. I really do like this place and I’m not finding it terribly hard to do some “Public Health” related work every now and then. People are relatively warm and accepting of my efforts. My health seems to be unnaturally good and I am keeping my fingers crossed. I guess my only complaint would be that ½ of the grass fence enclosing my yard has rotted during the rainy season and fallen apart. I hope that gets fixed soon. It’s made me realize how much I value my privacy. The part that fell was the only barrier between my place and a next door family who spends all day outside of their house, and whose children are still fascinated by the sight of me. Each time I walk out of my back door I hear a chorus of kids shouting my name and soon after, I have several little visitors at my front door. It gets less cute after the millionth time it happens. OK, take care.

Love,
Anders

P.S. According to the Koran (for Dummies of course), during Ramadan, the doors of hellfire close, Satan is chained up and the gates of heaven open side. So you can tell it’s a pretty good month!

Month 9

Oh my goodness,life in Guinea has just been flying. I almost forgot that I was here for awhile! So much has probably happened but I honestly don't remember where I left off. If I had to guess though, I was probably still talking about food and complaining about the heat, or talking about
how I spend my loads of free time. all that exciting news you're just dying to hear. and even now, 9 months in, my first instincts are to tell you about those things again. But I will spare you the pain. I'll try and tell you about something new and interesting.

One thing that has changed is that I have actually started working. I'm working now. I've done a bunch of sensitizations in my village on diarrhea and malnutrition. I've started teaching some of the jr. high school guys english, which has been really fun. I've also started playing soccer with
them at the end of the day and its embarrassing how much a bunch of adolescent kids can beat up on me. they're good! my main goal at the moment however, is getting a bread oven made in my town. I've been doing all sorts of preliminary work for this project and I think its really gonna happen. It would be very exciting. And believe me, this project is more of a personal motive than anything else. I'm blown away by the fact that Dabiss doesn't have a regular supply of bread and everyone seems to agree that its an important goal, but really, I just want some bread to eat. Mmmm...Bread.

So that's whats going on with my "work". I have tons of other project ideas and plans for the next couple months, but I'd rather wait and talk about projects after they've been successfully completed. I have to say, after being at site for 4 months or so, mostly just focusing on the language, it feels really good to actually start being useful. I feel so comfortable in my village and I think the people there are beginning to understand why I'm there.

Now, as with most people, my "work" work is only a part of my life over here. It's not like I'm coming to Guinea everyday and working from 9-5 and heading back home to the states where I resume my normal life. I'm more or less here all the time. I say "more or less" because when I'm in Conakry, like I have been for the past five days, it feels somewhat like I'm back home. I'm surrounded by Americans, I have many comforts and luxuries that I never had back home. I can watch movies and have cold drinks. But at site, it never ends. Its like I'm constantly making some sort of effort. I probably only "work" 10 hours or less a week, but living here is a job on its own. Or something. Oh what am I talking about? Its not really that bad. I feel comfortable even at site. I have friends there and I can pretty much communicate. I'm doing something that anyone could do, as long as they wanted to. wha!t'sinteresting to notice however, is the small ways that
I have changed since being here. There are certain things that simply must change in order for you to live happily in this place. Let me give you some examples...

In Guinean taxis, in order to make more money, you must squeeze four people in the back seat and two (sometimes 3) people in the front seat, no matter how long of a ride it is. That usually means 7 or 8 people in a 5 person car and 9 to 12 people in a car with 7 seats. And anyone under 12 or so doesn't fill a "spot", cause they're too small, they just sit on laps. I've done many trips over 13 hours or so in a bush taxi sharing the front seat with someone else, or crammed in the back with three large Guineans. Now, I can't say I'm actually more comfortable in cramped positions
than I used to be, but I can say that being cramped and uncomfortable in cars no longer bothers me. For some reason, I can simply endure it now, for as long as I need to. Who cares if half your body is alseep? At least you haven't crashed or broken down yet.

Here's another one. Any pickiness I had as an eater before coming here, has completely vanished. I will eat just about anything that could be called food, and I'll enjoy it. It's really quite nice. You might say that my standards in food taste have dramatically decreased, but I'd just say that my appreciation for food, whenever availiable, has greatly increased. For example, my new rule on eating meat is this, if its chewable, it goes down the hatch, no questions asked. All sauces taste good. Powdered milk is delicious. Mayonnaise goes well with just about everything. Flour with maggots growing inside can still be used without falling ill. Probably extra protein! Onions, peppers, & tomatoes, things that used to be gross, are now delicacies. The more the better. I just like to think about how much I'll love the food when I get back.

OK, what else? I think I have definitely adjusted to the pace of life over here. Everything is slowed down. Deadlines are flexible. Excuses of all kinds are accepted. There's no hurry to get anything done. One thing I've noticed, which I think is interesting, is that awkwardness does not seem to exist in this country. It's not uncommon for people to sit together and say nothing for long periods of time. And not only is it not uncommon, but its not uncomfortable either. You just don't need to say anything. Sometimes I go to my boutique, and sit down with some friends and we just observe village life for what feels like hours. Nobody needs to say anything and it doesn't
matter. It's the same with one-on-one interactions as well. Sometimes I get stuck with a person I've never talked to before, but it's just no problem. If there's nothing to talk about, we just observe the silence, there's no need to say anything. What's really nice though, is that the silence holds no awkwardness. I don't know why. People just don't do that over here, and I love it. I've even noticed with my volunteer friends here that long silences are not really that bad anymore. Awkwardness has just become a non-factor here. I'd like to think it will stay that way, but it seems like awkwardness is just a part of life sometimes. who knows.

Anyway, I've pretty much run out of things to say for the moment and I have to go anyway. I think I'll just send this without any revisions. I hope things are going well back home. I love you all...take care,

Anders

Letter #6 - new stage in country

July 7, 2005

Hi everyone,

OK, so here’s some more news from Guinea. A new stage just arrived in country, G10. There now are 16 more volunteers in this country. They are education volunteers. I think they teach math, physics, and English. They’re in training in good old Dubreka (remember?). This will nicely balance things out since G6 just left. Their service is over. I tell you this because my stage and I are no longer freshman. Our hazing is over. G9 are officially seasoned sophomores. Yes!

However, we are two fewer people than we were at the start. One of our volunteers (G9) ET’d (early terminated) in April. After training, I think he had just had enough and had seen what he wanted to. The other loss was a MedSep. This girl cut her leg at affectation (end of training) and then swam with the rest of us in the dirty Atlantic Ocean on the beach in Conakry. As a consequence, she got a serious staph infection, which required a medical separation to Dakaar, Senegal. After that, she was sent to the states for skin grafting and rehab and what-not. Pretty sad, she was a great girl and doing really well over here. Never made it to site.

Me, I’m still at site. Actually, I’m taking a break in Boké right now, but most of the time I’m in Dabiss. It’s going well there. I probably spend an average of 2 hours a day studying Landuma. And I’m always practicing it. Rainy season is officially underway. It’s not as rainy as I thought it would be, though it rains a lot. I always enjoy and look forward to the rain - mostly the fresh air it brings. My heat rash lives on, though you’ll be glad to know that the severity has greatly diminished. I expect to be done with it by October or November. But seriously, I can live with it now.

I recently painted a large map of Guinea on the wall of the school in Dabiss and everybody seems to be very pleased with it. My food situation has improved (as well as my mental health) thanks to some American missionaries who live nearby. When I get tired of village life I can go visit my new friends who always take me in and always send me back with a bag full of amazingly good food. They recently sent me a 4th of July picnic which had hot dogs, pork n’ beans, chili, stuff for s’mores, brownies, cold drinks, granola, yogurt, and more. Do you have any idea how invaluable this is to a volunteer? It’s amazing and I’m grateful. I think I’ve finally stopped losing weight, though I’ve stabilized around 160 which I probably haven’t weighed since I was in 8th grade. Our PCMO (Peace Corps Med Officer) says it’s fine and I shouldn’t worry. I’m in good health. I’m thankful that I’ve had very few health problems so far, most volunteers can’t say that.

It’s still strange to me that I’m in Guinea. I really like it here and I love the people (for the most part). I’m getting good ideas for projects and I plan to start some very soon. But I’m working. The whole cultural exchange/integration thing is amazing and fun. It happens every day and I’m getting better and better at it. I’ve gotten lots of letters and pictures and other good stuff from back home. Thanks for keeping in touch y’all. It means so much to me. OK, gotta go! Take care.

Love,
Anders