The Guinea Pig: July 2005

So, I’ve been a volunteer, officially, for two months. Come June 13th, I will have been in Guinea for 5 months. The longest I’ve ever been away from home before that was 4 months, when I was in Scotland. I think about these things a lot. I wouldn’t be surprised if everyone else in G-9 were thinking the same things as me. I feel like time is flying by, despite how much I think about it. It’s addicting. The older volunteers say you get to a point where it dies off, but never goes away. Time. I’ve been here for a long time. Imagine if you had to spend two years in jail. You’d constantly be thinking about how long you’d been there and how long you had to go. Or I relate this feeling to Bennett when he was hiking the Appalachian Trail and got addicted to counting miles, always keeping in mind how far he’d gone and how far he had to go. I’m constantly thinking about time like that and although I’m sure it will decrease at some point, it doesn’t bother me. I’m not restless if I sound that way. And I’m also not bored out of my mind if you’re getting that impression. It’s just that this way of thinking is inevitable for me. I actually find it comforting. It’s comforting how consistent time is. The time I have left here is small in the long run. But right now it seems far away. I have plenty of time here to enjoy myself and I’ll be back before I know it. Despite how relative that all seems, the past 5 months have felt just as long as any other 5 month span. Days pass by just as quickly here as they do in America, only that I count them now. Anyway, these are things I think a lot about over here, and it’s fine with me.

Dabiss life has been feeling more normal and comfortable lately, which is a good thing. I’m feeling more settled in. Although my occasional trips to Boké always bring a much needed relief, I’m enjoying my village life and I’m starting to feel more like a part of the town and less like a strange white foreigner. In fact, most of the kids here address me by my name now, instead of calling me “Tabu”, the Landuma word for white person. (Actually, it’s a blanket word for anything that is white – real personal, huh?) I’m trying to learn names in addition to Landuma, and I have a surprisingly good number of people down. Last names are important in greeting people here. It seems like saying a person’s last name before you actually greet them is an imperative. And it’s not just to get their attention. So when I hear someone say “Kokumbassa”, I turn to whoever is greeting me, give them their last name, if I know it, and we exchange our pleasantries. You’d be amazed how long greeting can carry on for. It’s good for me because I’m now familiar with all the greetings and I can carry on for quite a while, making it look like I know the language. Anyway, I’m getting to know a lot of people and I’m really enjoying myself.

Jared Alden has now sent me a slack line and the new Jack Johnson CD and I’m forever grateful for that. He sent them at separate times and each thing came with a message. Both times he said something like “I bet you’re constantly looking around and saying to yourself, ‘Man, what if the boys could see me now.’” Both times he was right on. I have that thought a lot and it’s tough because for the most part, I can’t fully describe what is going on here. Of course, a large part of my time is spent reading or sitting at the boutique or doing your average everyday things. Sometimes I literally just sit and stare. Recently, I discovered I can happily pass time trying to throw some stones across my yard into an old rusty coffee can. And at these times I certainly don’t think, “Wow, if they could only see me now.” But there are those times when I wish you all could see what I’m experiencing and I think that thought to myself. And while I can’t describe it in a way that makes you feel like you were there, I can at least make you understand where I’m coming from. I think the best way to do this would be to tell you about a trip I recently took where at almost every moment I was thinking to myself, “Man, if only they could see me back home.”

This trip I took was actually over three weeks ago. It’s important to keep that in mind because since then, I have become significantly more comfortable with the culture and language. I wasn’t the man I am today. Anyway, my health center was just beginning a new round of polio vaccinations and they were trying to get as many villages vaccinated in the surrounding area as they could. Since this was related to my official “job” (Public Health), I offered my help. They were happy to accept and asked if I wanted to go out to Kafai the next day with Dgibril (sounds like Gee Bee when you say it fast) and vaccinate the kids there. They told me it was not far away and we could go on our bikes. So I said sure. The next morning I got up early and grabbed a bottle of water and my bike. I thought this would be a quick trip and we’d be back within the day. I left to find Dgibril. When I found him, he told me we would be staying the night, so I’d better pack a bag. And this was the first of what would be many unexpected surprises on my trip to Kafai. As it turned out, there was a marriage in Kafai that night which we were attending. And it wasn’t just a random village, it was the home of Dgibril’s second wife and son who he hadn’t seen for several weeks. He also informed me that I should bring enough water to last me the whole trip because the water wasn’t clean in Kafai, they only had wells, no pumps. Although this all came as a surprise to me, it nevertheless made me more excited for what was going to be a fun adventure. Oh yeah, by “not far away” he meant about 40 kilometers through thick brush on a small unpaved path. Well, parts of the path were fine and not too overgrown, but I’m just trying to be dramatic.

So we took off for Kafai. Our first stop along the way, of which there would be many, was at a village called Tonglagba, only about 5k from Dabiss. As it turns out, we were there for a funeral. We stopped off for a funeral. I won’t go into the details of it, but we were there for the entire process, and it was quite a process, lasting about 4 hours. At the end of it, all the men gathered very close together, shoulder to shoulder, myself included and faced the corpse while certain people said prayers. The women and children stood far back and watched. And then some of the men picked up the body and we walked off down the road and into the woods for the cremation. After that, we left. Just a quick stop-off for a funeral and we were on our way again. This was going to be an interesting trip.

The ride there was great. It was great for mountain biking and the scenery was amazing. Dgibril seems to have a friend or relative or girlfriend in every village along the way. And at each little village we somehow picked up another travel companion who would accompany us for awhile and then disappear. The frequent stops allowed us to rest and also provided the local kids with a white person to stare at for 5 or 10 minutes. For many of them, I was probably the first white person they’d ever seen. At one point, our path was blocked by a wide shallow river where we had to take off our shoes and hold our bikes over our heads while we waded across. It was really fun for me, but I didn’t express my enjoyment, partly because I didn’t have the language and partly because it was just an average, ordinary trip – what is there to get excited about? I felt like we were on a safari or something.

Anyway, we got to Kafai just before sunset. I met the village, Dgibril’s wife and son, and I saw a guy named Mohmed, who I had met before. We had some tea and awaited the wedding. This is where things got really confusing to me. Mohmed led me to believe he was the one getting married, which turned out to be untrue. The ceremony began that night and did not stop until about noon the next day. The actual marriage occurred the next day and it was then I realized Mohmed was not getting married. I was totally clueless throughout it all. I was also clueless as to what my sleeping arrangements would be and as to what actually takes place at a marriage in Guinea. All these factors taken together made for a very strange and interesting night/following morning. At many points, I found myself thinking, “If they could only see me now.”

I think a large part of the strangeness came from the fact that Mohmed was accompanying me everywhere I went, and I thought it was his marriage. He didn’t really take part in all the singing and dancing and ceremonial stuff that carried on all night. He was always at my side. And I was tired. I wasn’t exactly prepared for an all-nighter, especially after the long trip. Neither was Dgibril. So I sat around a lot and watched. And Mohmed sat with me. I wanted to ask him why he wasn’t more involved in the festivities, when does the actual marriage occur? Where is you fiancée? Why do you seem so detached? Mostly I wanted to know why he was following me everywhere, but my Landuma wasn’t good enough and neither was his French. At around 1:00 AM, I was unbelievably tired and starting to feel very uncomfortable with Mohmed attached at my hip during his own wedding. Although the music and dancing was just beginning, I had to rest. So I went into the house I believed I was staying in and lay down on a very hard mattress. I thought this also might relieve Mohmed of his duties so he could enjoy his wedding. I woke up about ten minutes later to find him sitting in a chair next to my bed. I was baffled. The music outside was blaring and didn’t stop until about 7:00 am. I asked Mohmed when the marriage happened. He said in the morning. I was so tired and confused. I decided to just fall back asleep and see what happens in the morning. Mohmed eventually went back outside. I was awakened later by Dgibril lying down in the same bed as me, which was slightly bigger than a twin size. But it was fine. I could sleep through anything, even though I had no pillow or blanket. Even later, I was awakened by Mohmed squeezing into the bed along with Dgibril. To say the least, this stuck me as odd. Here I was in a house whose owner I did not know, sleeping in a bed with two Guineans, one of whom I thought was getting married that night. I hadn’t really been able to speak to anyone all night about my confusion, and it grew as I lay there pondering with tw0 Guineans at my side. But again, tiredness overtook me and somehow we seemed to fit OK in that small bed.

At 7:00, the deafening music finally stopped and the silence awoke us like an alarm. We all sat up and filed out of our single bed. I was in my same clothes from the night before. We all washed up and went outside. We ate. We ate well. That’s one thing they do right at weddings here. Plenty of food. And often. Yes, it was rice and sauce. But it was good. That morning, things started to come together. My confusion left me when I realized it was actually some other man getting married. I was quite relieved to tell you the truth. The marriage was nice and there was an interesting money giving process which followed. It was awkward for me at first, but I eventually caught on and gave money in the proper way. Fun times.

Dgibril and I vaccinated kids after that. Polio vaccinations are given orally, so there’s no pain involved. Yet this did not stop many of them from crying. Later that day, we made our journey back home. The trip back was just as enjoyable as the trip there and with less uncertainty. One of the fields we had to cross had just been burned that day and many parts were still burning as we went through. At one point, I had to look down and cover my face as we sped through a hot spot. I thought my leg hairs were going to burn off. People I had met on the way to Kafai learned my name and I heard a few “Kumabsa!”’s as we passed the villages. And as is usually the case, the scenery was beautiful.

Perhaps in another letter I will try to describe the landscape here, but this one has gone on long enough. I’ll just say that the rains have started recently, the rainy season is beginning, and suddenly everything here has become incredibly more green and beautiful. As I said before and will say again, it’s hard to describe my life here. I was hoping this story could at least demonstrate my desire to explain what is happening to me. But of course, if any of you were trying to describe your own everyday experiences in a tangible way, I bet you would find it just as difficult as I do. I find it interesting that I’m writing these mass emails every few weeks or so, trying to communicate the experiences of my life. It’s something I’ve never done before and something hardly anyone else does. When I think of it that way, it seems strange that I’m doing this at all, keeping in touch. But I enjoy it and it’s important to me, keeping in touch with friends and family. It’s hard knowing that everyone is getting the exact same story and I have no real one-on-one interaction, but it’s all I can do. I feel lucky to have people reading this, for those of you who read this far. And even if no one reads this or people become disinterested in my life here, I can at least have a journal of my time here. At the very least, it’s something I’ll be interested in reading sometime later on.

Anyway, sorry for the long tangent and even longer letter, if you’ve gotten bored. I’ll stop soon. I hope everyone is doing well back home. I’ll be here in Guinea if you ever want to say hello. Take care.

Love,
Anders

The Guinea Pig

Thursday, July 28, 2005

Letter #6 - new stage in country

Wednesday, July 06, 2005

Letter #5 - my trip to Kafai

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