Living the Village Life

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24 February 2008
Abdelrahmane just told me that heaving breathing outside my window every night was sorcery and that when he hears he runs away. Scared out of my mind, I kept asking him questions After about 20 minutes and thanks to the English-Pular dictionary that some missionaries made, I learned that “bird of sorcery” means owl in Pular. This revelation made me feel better until I remembered that I was taught that owls go “hoo,” not breathe heavily. But then again, I’m not an owl expert. Maybe Guinean owls don’t go “hoo” and just breathe really loudy and creepily.

6 March 2008
Things I’m doing that don’t surprise anyone at home

• Not using toilet paper
  
• Reading lots, re-reading Mountains Beyond Mountains for the 18th time
  
• Trying like hell to learn Pular
  
• Praying occassionally
  
• Talking about condoms incessantly ... still have that condom/candy bowl in my living room
  

Things I’m doing that you probably don’t believe

* Cooking (Mac & Cheese and Mashed Potatoes not out of a box ::gasp:😊
* Only wearing skirts ... I don’t feel comfortable wearing pants
* Wearing glasses most days (send me contact solution)
* Going to sleep between 9-11 PM
* Bathing on a regular basis
* Almost enjoying shopping (I can do it almost entirely in Pular and the Guineans get a kick out of it)
* Waking up every day at 7 at the latest, completely naturally
* Still shaving
* Prefering the company of females
* Wearing my hair up everyday (it’s hot & they look at me funny if it’s down)


A day in the life of a PCV in a Guinea village

• Wake up at 7 and try to go back to sleep because I don’t have to go to the Health Center today
  
• Visit latrine, wash hands for the first time of the day
  
• Get back underneath the mosquito net and read for a little bit
  
• Wash hands for the 2nd time of the day as I start making breakfast: plaintains fried in palm oil and hot chocolate, not because it’s cold but because I can. Ultimately end up burning fingr. Wash hands for the 3rd time.
  
• Brush teeth on porch, generously apply sun screen, lock up house.
  
• Make it into the village center, shoe breaks, time some random trash around the sandal, go home with people laughing at me alot. Change shoes.
  
• At Health Center, there’s a letter waiting for me that one of the other volunteers (Brienne) sent via a bush taxi. She’s coming for my market day on Saturday and then we’re going to another volunteer’s house (Beth) for the night. She also mentioned that 2 people from my training group went home 😞 I still can’t believe that.
  
• I go stand next to the tree in the middle of the village where there’s cell phone service. I check in with my Regional Office (hooray for Thursday!), send a text message to Nina and another to Ryan, the last volunteer at my site. Not sure if they get them or not. Try to call some other volunteers but no luck.
  
• Go and sit at the cafe for awhile and memorize a list of professions in Pular (Defoowo = cuisiner = cook). The Doctor (Docterjo = Docteur) buys me tea and a bread and butter sandwich.
  
• I go to the tailor (Ño’oowo = tailleur) to drop off 3 meters of cloth. He gives me some papaya. After about 20 minutes he asks me what I want. 20 minutes after that he takes my measurements. He shows me pictures of Ryan and his kids together. He draws with chalk on the concrete floor the design I describerd to double check.
  
• I go home cause the sun in really strong today. Abdelrahamane is right behind me. He takes one of my bidons to go get pump water for me (the pump is far away).
  
• Repose/read - too hot to do anything else.
  
• Make a late lunch of Mac & Cheese ... and by cheese I mean water, powdered milk, “butter,” flour, and a packet of Laughing Cow. Mmmmm
  
• Sit and chat with the Neenes (Mamas) on the porch. Play with bubble’s a bit. They’re highly amused.
  
• Do dishes on the porch. Should bathe myself too but too lazy to go the well and get water.
  
• Go back to the cell phone tree, message my Dad to let him know that I’m a alive. Tell him to send me cookies and beef jerky 😊
  
• Sit at the cafe again until late. Learn some Pular (yatigi an), teach some English (my friend) and Spanish (mi amigo/a). They started cracking up with I said “Debo (woman) and Defoowo (cook) are not the same word.” Men and women a like did not agree with me.
  
• Soukere walks me home, cause it’s dark and I’m a woman.
  

12 March 2008
Today at 8:30 AM, I listened to a baby being born. He’s crying now which makes me think things went well. Even though the mother was at the Health Center, she was alone for most of the delivery. There’s no water here so a neighbor brought over a small bucket of water (probably about 3 liters). Even then she brough it after the baby was out and it was probably well water. The pre-natal technician who helped out when she was actually in the room, put on gloves at some point. Even though there’s no water, her gloves are spotless. I’m not sure how that works out.

The baby’s still crying which I take as a good sign. The neighbor who got the water also went and “cleaned” the metal bowl that caught everything expelled frm the mother (she dumped it in the latrine and took it back in the delivery room.) She then went to the pharmacy for the technician and got some things.

I can hear the mother laughing a little.

The doctor (the only doctor) just walked by me with scissors and tape. He doesn’t have gloves on. I’m outside in the courtyard.

A woman who I believe in the mother-in-law (she looks exactly like the man who’s been in and out of the courtyard 4 times now) brought a couple pagnes (a meter of cloth).

The doctor just came out from cutting the cord. I ask if they’re okay. He says yes. It’s a girl. It’s the woman’s 7th child.

Periodic healthy crying is still coming from the room. The neighbor has come with more water. One of the containers is an old aluminum can that I see people take to the latrine all the time.

The technician comes out of the room and calls out my name. The baby is in her arms. She throws it’s naked, pale body up in the air a couple of times. I tell her to be careful and she laughs. They wrap the baby in one of the pagnes and the neighbor holds her. The technician takes off the gloves now, repeatedly touching the outsides. She sets them aside in the delivery room. They will be reused.

The neighbor as now come back with a smaller pagne. She’s tearing it up. I can hear water splashing. She must be cleaning the mother.

I can’t help it, I go and look at the baby lying now on the bed near me. Her grandmother is watching her now. She’s paler than I am with dark black hair. She’s sucking on the blanket and her thumb. She opens her eyes a little.

The technician comes back now, this time with vaccinations for the new born. My health center is lucky enough to have a gas powered refridgerator so we always have vaccines ready.

The mother is now walking ut of the delivery room. She lies down n the table that the baby was just on and her mother-in-law lays a pagne over her as a blanket. She sees me and smiling does the series of greetings as if nothing has happened. She laughs because I respond in Pular.

The technician has taken the baby into the main building, I’m guessing to be weighed. She carries it like a doll, with one hand, on the baby’s back. She drops her keys, which were in the other hand. When she reaches down to pick them up, I see the baby’s head falling back, something that might cause a lawsuit in the US but here is only noticed by me.

It’s 9:30 now. A random woman comes into the courtyard. They tell her about the birth and she goes and greets the resting mother. Anyone can come in. Women linger and help out in some way. Men stay away after the initial curious glance.

Ash just fell on me, someone’s burning trash nearby. There’s a used syringe on the ground in front of me. I hear Shakira playing at the cafe across the street.

The man who I believe is the husband brings his wife a cup of tea, “lipton” in Pular. They make her sit up to drink it. He immediately leaves before she’s even sat up.

The mother is now chatting with women that have decided to stop by. She doesn’t seem to mind as more and more women, with children of their own tied to their backs came into the open room. She exemplifies the infinite strength of Guinean women.

The father comes back to return the cup to one of the cafes. He comes back again 15 minutes later. He’s bought a set of clothes for the baby. He gives them to the technician and leaves yet again.

She’s 3.5 kg. In one week there will be a large baptism where everyone will come and give presents. It’s there that she’ll be given a name.

It’s 10:30. The baby leaves the health center in the arms of a woman who already has a child tied to her back.

13 March 2008
Random notes:

• I ran into a concrete wall with my forehead.
  
• I think the most valuable thing I learned in training was how to play “huit americains.” (a card game)
  
• Upon dying from exhaustion from carrying things back from the market in Labe, Kim and I were on the side of the road watching Guineans effortlessly carry massive objects on their heads.
  Sam: “I think Americans are better at carrying things on their backs.”
  Kim: “I think we’re better at carrying them in our SUVs.”
  

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Photos

Beth & Brienne
Doing the dishes at Beth's sweet house.