july 20th

Sunday, July 20th 2008

Tonight I'm writing after an excellent weekend at the Barry's. I spent the majority of the time studying and trying to extend conversations beyond "hello, how was your day" - and I'm starting to understand the responses the the "how was your day" rather than just smiliing and nodding politely. One week of language class and living without speaking English at home will is do that. Each weekday, we have 4 sessions of class; Friday, three of the four were language. And while I though the last thing I wanted to do Friday night was speak more French, two of the other volunteers invted me to join them at a cafe where they were going to practice French. I did and I think the espresso the man served was actually espresso, not the instant Nescafe I've been trying to fool myself into believing is coffee. With all of the African coffee I see in the states, I'm baffled at the fact there is no coffee to be found. Someone suggested maybe this was a good time to cut coffee out...I'll work with the Nescafe before that day comes.

Yesterday Aisitu (my 17 year old host sister) gave me a lesson on doing laundry. It involves three buckets, a washboard, and the electric lines hanging in the yard. I hadn't done laundry since leaving Cleveland, so I had quite a few things. The process of soaking, really letting loose on the washboard, rinse, wring, and hang convinced me that all shirts will be worn until they stink or I spill a lot on them, and skirts need to last at least a week. Aisitu did not approve of this idea. It was a beautiful, clear day when we hung the last sock...promising for drying. The rain came about 5 hours later, clothes were still damp. We rehung them this morning, rain came, clothes came down. I don't know if they'll ever be dry again.

I also learned how to fetch the water from the well. I'm spoiled because they get the water to bathe and cook, and the well is in our backyard for when I need to do the fetching. I just need to get my drinking water. That's a process too...Peace Corps gives us these great filters that you first filter the water then bleach it. I have a "water wand" that was a gift that seems too good to be true - with it I wouldn't have to bleach the water. I'm going to wait until I have my own bathroom before beginning that experiment. The bleached water is working quite nicely for now.

One week in and I've been only shown hospitality here. When we walk the streets, people are friendly and when we enter cafes, people greet us as they do each other. Economically speaking, most of the people of this village seem to be doing alright; everyone is dressed nice and have shoes. People find a way to make a living - selling their produce at the market, teaching, sewing, etc. We are seen as rich Americans however the difference I've found so far between being here and one of the few white faces and other places where being white is being on parade is that no one ever asks for anything. There is no need to ever turn people away that are looking for a handout. My justification for this so far is that the only Westerners that ever come to Guinea are NGOs like Peace Corps. No tourism that lead to the idea that western face means possible donation. To them, we're just the "fotes" that are always at school and don't bargin when they charge us too much money at the market. People are always curious about what we're doing, why we're here, etc. And the some kids just can't stop staring. But beyond that, we just go on our way.

While my family has been incredible, it is hard to think about living in this room (that is becoming smaller and smaller as PC gives us more and more supplies - I now have a bike in here with me) for another 10 weeks. We have to let our families know what time we'll be back at night so they can let us in. It is a strange loss of independence and regression to the days of curfews and being on womeone else's watch. One "cross-cultural" lesson was about how in Guinea, no individual is more important than the family, and now we're a part of that. It is fine, just sometimes a little too much.