Taking stock

Can’t help but think that I have accomplished something great…. Today, flashbacks of the last 5 months of my life rushed into my consciousness. I am taking a personal inventory  of my African experience. Since July 21, I have been uprooted from my cushy, abundant Vancouver lifestyle and dropped into the Failed Nation State of Guinea. At times, I had to reach at the depths of myself to battle loneliness, despair and culture shock. Accepting  to come here, to live in Conakry, to adapt to Africa and everything that comes with it has been an amazing experience ….can’t find the words really……almost like coming to the finish line of the first leg of an exhilarating marathon….without running, because this is, after all Africa.

 

I think of the TV series The Amazing Race and I smile……I feel I have arrived at the finish line, a first phase in my African experience. Contrary to the famous TV series I did not rush, I did not run. I walked, I strolled and I stopped.  Africa’s heart beats at a different pace, looks in people’s eyes and rests when tired.  C’est comme ça…. I heard these words often….it is like that….just simply stated. That is the way it is, this is life. The African lifestyle is so different from my hamster running wheel, jump to the pump, never ending to-do lists, high speed internet way of life.  

 

At times, the slowness of Africa has irritated me…….what do you mean….il va venir??…..at what time exactly will the plumber come to repair the leaky toilet? I wanted efficiency and I expected it. I have now learned to live at the African tempo.  Things get done here, but at a slower pace. I exercise patience. I have learned to walk too, and if I go back to my warp speed, the humidity and heat remind me to slow down. I’ve accepted that sweating is just part of life here. The more I slow down, the less I sweat and the less I sweat the more comfortable I am. I am learning about life, about relationships, about hope and resiliency.  Through the political and economical despair that reigned over the Guinean people, I have learned that human beings’ aspiration for life prevails. Conversations with my Guinean neighbours have taught me that we human beings are more alike than different. We struggle with injustice, dream for better futures and love our children and families beyond measure. No matter our language and our culture we share a connectedness that makes us all brothers and sisters. 

 

Our two babies from the Orphanage Espoir de Vie, bébé Raymond and bébé Madeleine are a living example of this hope that transcends all despair.

 

 

Things happen in threes...

Ismail, the tailor made me a dress this week.  Ismail lives down the street. Things are looking up!

ELECTION Results 

« La Guinée est libérée ! » these words came from Bivan’s mouth on our morning drive to work. These words rolled out, not with a sigh but with strength and hope from the quiet and temperate man that Bivan is. Spoken from the heart, Bivan’s words reached me. I had goose bumps. This is a man that has known Guinea forever, well at least for the 57 years of his life.  Those words were said as we discussed the final announcement from the Supreme Court stating the winner of the elections of November 7  as final. We were asking Bivan at what time the announcement of the results had been made on the radio. Bivan admitted that he fell asleep with the radio on his ear and that he missed the news. His son woke him up with the official results at 1AM ! Good old Bivan ! I could imagine him fast asleep with the radio acting as a pillow. He had been so afraid all week, very tense and stressed. He told us that many families were evacuating the city. The women and children had fled to villages out of Conakry this week due to the upcoming news from the Supreme Court. They feared that violence would erupt again so they fled. The Guineans have been through so much that many decisions are based on fear. The Guineans also have had coup d’etat, 3-4 month-long strikes and Marshall Law, under the army’s control . They are afraid. Who can blame them? 

Our conversation of the Guinean elections transitioned over to the elections in Ivory Coast where violence has erupted this week. Very similar situation to Guinea.  Violence, riots and people killed. At that point in the conversation, I tuned out. Can we finally put the elections on the back burner and start living again? Since last May, school registration , visions and projections have been halted because all conversations start with…. « after the elections…. » It is time to turn the page and move forward. The elections are over, the new president starts his work and we have a glimmer of hope of keeping our little school alive because expatriate families will return. Maybe, just maybe our enrollment will climb from 42 to 60 and then by next year perhaps 100 students.  These elections are behind us but the good news is that there is now a president to run this country. This was the first good news of the day.

 A place called our own for Christmas

At recess this morning, Raymond arrives in my class with an email message. He handed it over with these words « read this » I said “ is it good news or bad news ? » Just read it, he said. I could not tell by his tone whether it was positive or negative. I knew that this message carried news from the latest search for an apartment at Christmas. We were feeling excited about the prospect of subletting a 2 bedroom apartment in the West End of Vancouver. I was nervous at the prospect of a negative answer. I quickly grabbed the paper and poured over the message. It said : Yes we’d love to rent our place to you guys ! I jumped up and down and hugged Raymond ! « YES, yes, yes!” I exclaimed, “finally we are getting good news” ! I am so excited I told Ann, my  teacher colleague. I explained that we have been searching on the internet and emailing friends since September in order to find accommodations for our family for Christmas. We’ve had many disappointments, some near positive  answers and close calls but never a definitive answer. This was great news…we could celebrate Christmas together after all ! It would not only be in a place of our own but in an area of Vancouver that has so much to offer and it boasted of a picturesque view of English Bay ! What more could we want?  This was the second good news.

Generator repaired :

Our daily school life depends on the school’s generator. It is a big monster of a machine that hums loudly throughout the day. Unfortunately it breaks down and then the trouble begins. The generator feeds us electricity. Electricity gives us light in our classrooms, extremely slow internet and AIR CONDITIONING. This last item is of utmost importance. Without the air conditioning, it is impossible to work. Someone like me who already has to deal with hot flashes cannot afford 10 minutes without the air condition. Water drips down my back as if I have just stepped out of the shower. All my students start complaining and we end up moving our desks outdoors; at least we can breathe outside even if it is extremely hot. The rainy season is over and the dry season has started and it is HOT ! I have no idea what the actual temperature is……somehow no one ever asks "how hot is it anyway?”  

Why do we have a generator? The area where our school is situated in Conakry is called Matam-Lido. This area of the city has limited access to electricity. In concrete terms, this means that the population of this area gets electricity from midnight to 6am.  This is why our little school needs its own source of electricity, hence the generator. In a desperate attempt to get the generator repaired as quickly as possible, Raymond made several phone calls, including the US Embassy. Help was on its way but in African terms, this could mean 2 -3  hours waiting before the repair guys would arrive. Raymond decided that if the generator was not running by noon, we would start calling the families and close school in the afternoon. After all, these conditions were not conducive to learning, let alone breathing!  Within an hour, seven repairmen were gathered around the generator scratching their heads. Thirty minutes later the sweet  purring sound of the  generator permeated every square inch of our school campus. Cheers from the children and sighs of relief from the staff marked an end to this sorrow episode of the broken generator. The crew also repaired the back-up generator which hadn’t been working since 2008. So we are in good hands now. This was the third good news of the day.

We needed good news in a time when we have struggled with the uncertainty of the political situation and our own adaptation to life in Guinea.  At times, I felt that I was carrying the sorrow and despair of the entire Guinean country. No wonder I am tired! But I realized that this despair and sadness is not for me to carry. It is the reality of my environment but it is not mine personally.  The good news came at a time where both Raymond and I needed a little lift for our spirits. As we are counting down the days before our Christmas holiday back in Canada, it is with a sigh of contentment that I receive these three gifts!  Funny how these are not material gifts...

 

 

 

Bébé Madeleine

Our usual Wednesday afternoon field trip to the orphanage held a special surprise for me this week. As we entered at the Espoir de Vie Rescue Centre, all the students made a bee-line to find their favorite baby. My eyes wandered to the small baby seats, searching for the familiar little face of bébé Raymond. There he was fast asleep, looking like an angel from heaven. He looked so peaceful that at first I did not want to hold him.  That did not last long! I took him in my arms and noticed he was a little stronger and more filled in than before. What a relief to see this! He also had clear skin and the rash on his head had disappeared. What a sweeheart!  

My friend Colette came over to greet me and we chatted. “Do you know that a new baby came in just this morning, a new born?” she said excitedly. “Come and see her!” I carefully placed bébé Raymond back in his cozy chair.  Colette brought me to the bedroom area where 7 baby cribs were lined up side by side. “There she is!”  

I bent down and took her in my arms, noticing that there was no name card on the crib. I turned to Colette and said…”so, Colette she doesn’t have a name yet?”  We looked at each other, our eyes locked with an understanding that needed no explanation. “I’ll tell Tiggy that her name will be Madeleine.” I glowed with pride as I walked into the big room where all my students were playing and holding babies. I showed off bébé Madeleine to all of them.  Another baby has been helped and I get to hold her and perhaps for the next 6 months I will get to know her more. This is a special day indeed!

The calm AFTER the storm

It is Sunday November 21 today. It has been 4 full months since our arrival in Conakry, Guinée. Why does it feel like we have been gone from Canada for years? I suppose the answer to that would be that we have lived so many experiences in such a short time. Everything has been so intense and so foreign. With a forced week-long holiday, due to security reasons, I had time to relax and take in all that I had experienced in the last 4 months.

The calm that has reigned in Conakry since the curfew was enforced  has had a very positive effect.  So what is a curfew? A curfew like the ones we as parents imposed on our children is a time when you must come home. Here in Conakry the curfew was imposed from 6pm to 9am. In concrete terms, this means that vehicular traffic are not permitted around the city between these hours. The curfew started on Wednesday and I noticed a huge difference. When the sun came down at about 6:30pm, people went in their homes and everything quieted down, no music played and no kids were kicking soccer balls on the street below.  Loud conversations that used to be held by groups of men and women sitting on outside benches, some drinking tea, others with a baby on their laps were non-existent. Life quieted down considerably. As a result, I slept very well during this past week. That was really good!

I surprised myself this week. I stayed calm and peaceful. The first 2 days I did not go out at all; Raymond and I just stood on our balcony to observe Guinean life and took in some hot and humid air. I couldn’t help comparing my experience to my experience in Saudi Arabia. At that time, I was so frightened. I was vibrating at a level of fear almost constantly. Because we had our children with us and we were told to be vigilant in our whereabouts, I was always afraid that something would happen to them. I was full of anxiety. Reflecting on this, I realize that I have grown and have dealt with many of my worries and anxiety in the past 6 years. True that while living in Saudi we were dealing with a different issue as was the entire world. We were all trying to get a grip of this issue called terrorism. It was new to all of us and it had come to shake our world.

My experience here is different. A city in chaos, burning tires, gunfire, violence by youth as the election results angered the losing candidate partisans is nothing new to developing countries.  Guinée, since its independence 52 years ago, has never held democratic elections. It is a new experience for all. Something else is at play here: poverty, extreme poverty. What I have learned from my daughter Nadine and her research of the past years with STEEP is that poverty and violence go hand in hand. When you are poor and hungry, you can become violent very quickly. Despair sets in and rational thinking goes out. Consequently, education is also needed, a good sound education that is meaningful and pertinent. The entire school system in Guinée needs to be completely revamped. This country has so many challenges and it will take many years before real change happens.

Back in my apartment, I realized that even if I have had a restrictive life this past week, I did not feel trapped or imprisoned. I felt free and grounded. I accepted my situation as it was: confined to our apartment for security reasons. I had a deep inner knowing that everything would be ok. I did not get pulled into by the sensationalism of the acts of violence that were occurring in other parts of my city. I stayed at peace within myself. I felt this was a time of rest, a time when I could do whatever I wanted moment by moment and day by day. I baked, read books, reorganized our apartment, exercised with my yoga CD’s, wrote, did some hand sewing and did go out for short walks around our neighbourhood. I felt comfortable and peaceful. The words a friend of mine had told me surfaced during this week. She said she had never felt so free as the time she had spent 3 months in prison. Those words had always struck me and they came back to me this week. She had found who she was in prison and had freed herself. Not like I am in prison here, but being confined did have an effect on my choices.  Choices to react negatively or positively. It was a good week. 

School starts  up again tomorrow. Month number 5,  here we come!

 

 

Effervesence

Effervesence : to show high spirits or vitality

The results of the Guinee elections were announced last evening.  Raymond and I were sitting in our living room, attentively listening  to the radio, our  best source of local news. It was 8pm and the leader of the election committee proceeded to read the results from all 72 regions. This included the percentage of voter participation and then the results of candidate #1 Cellou Diallo and candidate #2 Alpha Conde.  The final results were read out after 1 hour of details….and the winner is Alpha Conde who won by 52% and Cellou Diallo just behind by 47%. 

The instant the results were announced on the radio, we heard screams of joy from down the street. We quickly jumped up and went to our balcony. Our balcony has been since the very first day  in Conakry, our window into Guinean life.  It has given us information minute by minute as to the political and cultural climate as well as the actual temperature.  People were running up and down the street, hugging, dancing and screaming. They were speaking in their dialect so we did not know exactly what they were saying but their body language was speaking loud and clear. Young boys had whistles and they were blowing as loud as they could as they skipped, arms linked unable to contain their joy.  Women and girls were dancing, twirling about totally free and unashamed. More boys came running with a publicity banner of Alpha Conde they had just torn off from up the street poles, ecstatic and bouncing with energy. It was an amazing sight to see ! We had our entertainment live, no need for television here.  Some men came out from nowhere banging on empty plastic water cans, imitating the rhythm of the African drums.  Then,  huge loudspeakers were placed on the side of the street and the music blared out. Women and girls immediately danced, moving their bodies freely  and  rhythmically. We stood in awe of this demonstration of boundless joy and effervesence.

As people continued their dynamic celebration, flashes of lightning were brightening up the dark navy colored sky. It was as if Nature was joining the celebrations, giving us an organic display of fireworks. Within 20 minutes, blinding rain poured down  and the monsoon-like wind blew violently shaking the palm trees and the mango trees. I admire that these trees never break under all this pressure and terrific storms. They seem to just let the wind and rain blow them around and they kind of « go with it », not trying to resist. Maybe I need to learn this,  let go of my worries and concerns and try not to resist…do like the palm trees….just flow with life ! Food for thought…..

The rain had a calming effect on the crowds as they dispersed, scurrying to shelter. A dozen young people kept dancing, oblivious to the pouring rain. A few others arrived with umbrellas but they were thrown aside as if these were useless objects. The jubilation of the moment mattered more than anything else.  There were some young children dancing and jumping alongside the adults, mesmerized by the magic-like event. Children seem to just be part of life here. I was concerned about the very small ones being crushed by the crowd, but nothing like this happened. I’ve noticed that children seem to be trained very young to watch out for danger, whether  it is a speeding car, a wobbly bike rider or a team of men pushing heavy carts overfilled with garbage. Small children intuitivly move away from danger. The adults seemed child-like themselves, naïve and bounding with joy, a joy that could not be contained. I wondered if my Guinean brothers were celebrating the actual candidate’s victory or if they were celebrating much more than this. I have a sense that they were celebrating much more than the results of this election. Since this was the first democratic election in 52 years, this means that 2 generations have lived under  strained and oppressing goverments. The Guineans have not experienced freedom and hope for many years.  This dance of victory was a celebration of freedom, freedom to choose their leader and freedom for a new life. This was also a dance of hope, a hope that their lives  will change for the better. I am witness to history unfolding before my eyes. How cool is that!

 

 

 

Quaint and quirky

We’ve been back one week from our  holiday break and what a week it has been! Report cards and parent-teacher conferences all in the same week….and I survived it all! Whew what a week it was:  stressful, too busy and extremely tiring!

Coming back to Guinee last week was quaint and quirky at the same time. It was feeling like home after visiting Kenya and Mali. Home I asked myself? Conakry is home?  How odd to even think this. Everything around me was familiar! The ride from the airport where I could recognize the statues at each roundabout, the skinny goats grazing along the railway track, the bicycle chickens scurrying across the road and the people selling their goods along the highway all seemed to be exactly as I remembered them. The streets did not seem as dirty as I remembered them and the chaos as we drove by the market seemed non-existant. Was it me that had changed or did Conakry clean up its act while I was away?

I did have a new perspective on life in Guinee. I was back on my street and then back in our little apartment and it was cozy.  Though my life is confined here and there are few choices, it was comforting to be in the “known”. It was good to buy the baguettes from Ashram again. The security guards in our building welcomed us so warmly, holding their hands in prayer  as we walked in, that we were both  very touched. “It looks like they missed us,” I said to Raymond.

As we unpacked our luggage and bought a few groceries, I had to implement a new routine. I had just found out that to avoid getting parasites, we need to bleach our vegetables and fruits. Our sensitive Canadian tummies seem to be prone to getting attacked by parasites so bleaching is the remedy. This consists of filling my sink with tap water and a capful of bleach, yes Clorox! Next, I dump all the fruits and vegetables that will fit in the sink and let them sit for 10 minutes. Then everything comes out and is rinsed in purified bottled water. The last step consists of letting all the produce dry on a big towel. When everything is completely dry, it gets placed in the fridge.  This is a quirky thing to do, but it has been recommended from other expats. So far, no parasites and no bleach taste in our fruits and veggies. Look at all this wonderful produce…and papaya season has just started! Yummmm!

Palm trees, banana trees and a pool

I’m sitting by the pool at Sylvaine and Axel Von Mende’s villa in Bamako, Mali. It is 4pm in the afternoon, I’m sipping my coffee and writing my blog. I am in the shade of huge palm trees and I’ve eaten a few bananas right off the banana tree. Can life get any better? Muddy the family cat, flicks her tail, brushing away a fly as she takes in the afternoon sun, squinting her brown eyes. She still hasn’t figured me out but I keep talking to her and attempting to pet her. At least now she actually sits close to me. She is slowly taming me. She does not let anyone got close to her…she’s had a traumatic childhood, or is it kittyhood?! Sylvaine picked her up one evening, after she had been used as a soccer ball by the neighbourhood teens. Axel and Sylvaine nursed the kitty back to health, with drops of milk and medicine. Now Muddy is a healthy 9 month cat who walks around with attitude (don’t all female cats?) and is the princess of this little place in paradise.

I am so grateful for Sylvaine and Axel for their invitation to their tropical paradise here in Bamako. I too like Muddy have nursed myself back to health, rested well and gained a fresh perspective on our situation in Conakry. Discovering another African country was also interesting as Bamako is quite charming and dare I say “liveable”. My sense of Mali is that it is organized, peaceful and clean. This is after 6 days of observing daily life. Of course I only saw Bamako and not the surrounding areas, so I got a narrow window of life in Mali . There is still poverty but you can’t get away from that in Africa. Africa equals poverty.

I’ve been impressed with Sylvaine who works 10-12 hour days at this humongous literacy project that involves thousands of people. This one woman source of energy is taking on the immense task of reforming the public educational system of Mali. What an undertaking! She is a catalyst to change. She has shown us the several offices where she works---there were posters, photocopies everywhere, radio programs being revised and piled outside over 8,000 fabric kits ready to be assembled with cassettes, books, pre-tests and post-tests ready to be used by the teachers everywhere in Mali. Sylvaine is the master mind behind this immense project. She has written songs, fables, radio scripts and created wooden alphabet to help support the new curriculum geared for elementary students in the public system. The goal: teaching children to read and write.

As for Axel, he is the Good Samaritan. He is a retired metal worker and he is enjoying his new Malian lifestyle. For Axel, every day brings something new: new friends, new experiences and new ways to support people. Everyone in the neighbourhood knows Axel. He pays prescriptions for the young man just struck with malaria, brings cold water to families, helps pay school fees for a child and takes time to have tea with the toothless widow down the street. He brings leftover food to the divorced woman struggling to feed her 3 kids. Axel does these daily acts of kindness throughout the day unassumingly and humbly. He knows the sad life stories of many of his friends. One of them we met. Her name is Mea and her mother died in childbirth when Mea was a young 16 year old. She had to quit school and help her father raise all her siblings. Now at age 30, she works in a real estate/notary office barely making ends meet as she continues to provide for her siblings. Axel helps Mea financially when he sees that she is struggling. Axel was also our driver, tour guide and an amazing chef during our visit here. He was constantly at our service. Every supper he prepared with tender loving care and we could not even offer help. The four of us sat at the table, enjoying a warm meal every evening and the lively discussions. Their house had revolving doors either of students from Simon Fraser University here for a 5 week practicum, some neighbours, the gardener, the pool attendant and the house helper. At times, it was busy as a bee hive and Sylvaine and Axel opened their hearts and their home to whomever would drop in.

Together Axel and Sylvaine are a power couple both giving and contributing to African people in need. Sylvaine helps teachers, principals and children in the education sector. Axel helps his neighbours on a daily basis providing food, friendship, laughter and a few francs. These two humanitarians extend love and goodness to everyone around them. This is Love at work. How awesome to be witness to this! How awesome to have them as friends.

M is for... malaria

Malaria is the word that sends shudders through the expatriate community. We worry about, discuss about and gather information about malaria on a regular basis. Stories about malaria stricken friends circulate. Before our departure, we had read everything we needed to read about this threatening disease, consulted with our family doctor and were briefed at the Travellers Vaccine and Medicine Centre. There is no vaccine that exists against malaria and the reason being is that there are many types of malaria. So we did what every health conscious traveller does; we armed ourselves with lists of do's and do'nt's and brought preventitive medicines, sprays and Deet cream.

So here I am newly arrived in Kenya, full of anticipation for a holiday from the intense life in Conakry and hopeful for a rejuvenating educators' conference. For the first two days, Raymond attends the administrators' sessions and I lounge around by the pool, read and relax. Not a bad life at all, I think to myself. On my second night in Nairobi, I start to shiver violently, so much that I wrap myself cocoon-like in a big blanket. Thirty minutes later, the shivering has stopped and a high fever kicks in. I wonder if I have malaria but I also think this may be a 24 hour flu, after all I have had symptoms like this before. I take 2 Advil and go to sleep. It is a restless night, interrupted by vivid dreams, a pounding headache and profuse sweating.

In the morning, I feel weak and thirsty. I decide to have a light breakfast of fresh fruits but I can barely eat. I feel so weak and dizzy that I head back to my room and spend the day reading and sleeping on and off. My head feels very heavy, my body feels very weak and I continue taking Advils throughout the day, numbing the pain somewhat. When Raymond arrives from the conference, we decide to have a bite to eat and meet up at the pool side restaurant with friends.

I explain my symptoms and everyone around the table says I may have malaria and to get to a doctor asap. I feel fine at this time so I feel a little confused as to the reason for getting a doctor. I wonder what to do next but as the evening wears on, I know I will call a doctor first thing in the morning.

Monday morning arrives, this is the first day of the teachers' sessions and I still have a pounding headache. Maybe a shower will help me but I barely make it to the washroom, extremely dizzy, nauseous and the headache has increased to a pounding pain. I crawl back to bed and Raymond says that I need to get a doctor. With the help of the hotel staff, an hour later, I am wheeled into a van and driven to the Aga Khan University Hospital.

M is for .....motion

Raymond carries me inside the van and by this time, I cannot keep my eyes open because the pain in my head is excrutiating and I am hyper-ventilating, every breath becoming shallower. I can barely murmur to Raymond...hurry, hurry! The ride to the hospital seems interminable and I can feel all the bumps in the road, exacerbating the pounding in my head. My throat is dry yet I can barely quench my thirst with the tiny sips of water I manage to drink. Finally the van stops in the emergency area and I am wheeled in, brought into a holding room and layed down on a bed. Finally I'm at the right place and someone will diagnose me and treat me.

M is for...... medical attention

What happens in the next few hours is hazy. All I can remember is that the pounding headache increases as if someone is hitting my head with a hammer and then an image of a vice grip with my head being squeezed in. At this point I also get electric shock pain in my ears, which surprise me by their intensity. I am given fluids intraveneously which relieves me because I know I am dehydrating by the minute. Blood tests, blood pressure and temperature are taken and the doctor questions me and Raymond fills in all necessary information. The doctor checks my ears and tells me that my ears are bleeding from the inside which explains the electric shock pains I have felt. I remember thinking...this can t be just an earache, though I remember suffering severely from swimmers ear as a teenager and a few other times in my adult life (until I figured out I ALWAYS HAD to wear earplugs whenever I swam).

Of course, I am worried about my one and only kidney and I tell the doctor. He asks me why I only have one kidney and I tell him “’I was a donor 4 years ago”’. The doctor looks at me with the kindest eyes, whispers oh and our eyes lock for a few seconds. I smile as he looks deep into my eyes. I know that he knows what this means. He asks me if I gave to someone in my family to which I answer that I gave to a man from my church. I am given pain reliever through the IV and the doctor converses with Raymond asking how long we have been in Nairobi and where have we come from. Raymond explains that we have been living in Guinee since mid-July and the doctor nods as if he makes a mental connection. He explains that I may have malaria and that Guinee has a different type of malaria. Different? Like how different, I wonder. The results of the blood tests confirm that I have malaria and I start receiving more aggressive treatment. Finally, after 6 hours in the emergency ward, they wheel me up to the only ward that had an available room, the maternity ward.

M is for......mothers

Being on the maternity ward was a joy. I had a small room that I shared the first night with a young woman that I never saw. She was very quiet and I guessed that she had a miscarriage. From the other rooms, I could hear women practicing deep breathing. At other times, I heard the heartbeats of the babies on the machines that record those lovely pre-natal sounds. The second night I spoke a bit to my room mate Nancy and found she was admitted for a Ceasaran scheduled for the next morning. Again the machine recorded the swooshing noise and the rapid heartbeat of this unborn baby. How wonderful all this new life around me!

Meanwhile, my pain was constant, even with all the strong medications I was given. The worst was the pounding headache that did not want to let up. I wanted to get a shot in the head at one point, thinking that if I received an injection exactly at the site of the excruciating pain, somehow I would feel better. Of course, this did not happen, but it just goes to show that I would have done just about anything to get the pain out of my body.

M is for .......marvelous!

The treatment and care from the staff at Aga Khan University Hospital was out standing. The nurses, especially the male nurses were compassionate and kind beyond words. Every time they give me a shot or changed the medication in my intravenous, they sympathically said “’sorry, sorry”’ and all of them did that! This was amazing to me! I had never had any nurse or doctor ever say they were sorry for my pain. It is probably cultural to treat patients with this degree of care but it sure had a very positive impact on me. I noticed that the staff would speak in the same way to all the local patients also. So I did not get special treatment because I was white. I liked that.

M is for......my friend

My friend Laurel from Saskatchewan, via Saudi via Ethiopia was giving a workshop at the conference and she came to visit one night. I thought I was dreaming. She really helped me gain more energy as I was in my healing process. I felt better after her visit. We connected as if we had only seen each other the night before, yet it had been 4 years since we had last seen each other, on one of our many road trips to Winnipeg, stopping thru in Saskatchewan one summer. Laurel was a breath of fresh air and I only wished I could have been in better shape to talk with her. I've always admired Laurel and her husband Kirby for the wonderful act of adopting 3 girls from Lithunia while we were living in Saudi Arabia. Of course, we caught up on all the girls activities. It was great seeing Laurel again!

M is for ....Mali

I stayed 4 days and 3 nights at the hospital. I was discharged on Thursday and we were flying out to Mali. I am presently recuperating at Sylvaine's little paradise in Bamako, Mali. I am feeling better and better all the time. What an ordeal I have been through in the past week. I am so relieved and grateful to be here and to be healthy again!

Emotionally charged week!

 

What a week it has been! From electricity failures to a visit at the Rescue Centre-Orphanage to a huge monsoon storm, this week was more intense than any other week as far as my life in Guinee is concerned.  To add to this, our TV stopped working suddenly (this being our connection to the outside world and our only source of entertainment, it was pretty serious!) water leaked again making for slippery, dangerous bathroom floors and my usual patience and positive outlook took a serious nose-dive in a dark, negative place inside of me. I was in a slump!

 

When I rewind the events of my difficult week, the bright light in it was a visit to the Rescue Centre-Orphanage. All the other frustrations fell by the wayside. The Rescue Centre-Orphanage is called Espoir de Vie, Centre Eve.  This Centre was opened two years ago by this wonderful Canadian woman Colette Beaudais, seen on the picture with me.  She is an amazing humanitarian who has loads of energy and creative ideas by the dozen pouring out of her head and heart! She is an inspiration, a human angel with wings folded on her back, authentic, generous and wrapped up in gentle humility. 

 

On Wednesday, I brought my Middle School students to visit the Centre. It was an eye opening experience for them.  My students played with the toddlers, held them and fed them milk.  The children at Espoir de Vie are under the age of 3 and today there were 16 in all! It was a busy, noisy place. The orphans do not get visitors very often so when the door opened with my 9 students, the toddlers squealed with laughter. My students spontaneously knew what to do. The briefing on the  do’s and don’ts of Middle School student behaviour slipped out of their consciousness and they immediately played with the toddlers, held them and fed them milk.  Children are brought at the centre by caring, conscious people and children are adopted from the centre by dedicated, loving people.  Many of these children have very sad stories. The baby I am holding was a no-name baby, only 4 days old. He was found under a bridge, by a river, abandoned, naked and alone.  When I held him,  I struggled with feelings of anger towards the person that abandoned this tiny little Being and feelings of compassion for a person who must have been living  deep despair. Eventually, my pendulum swing of emotions balanced itself out as I  looked down  at this vulnerable, peaceful baby. I told him he was a survivor and that he was now in good hands.  His life at the Centre was a new beginning. Simultaneously,  I couldn’t help wonder how this experience of abandonment would affect him for the rest of his life.  It is imprinted in all his minuscule cells, I am sure.

 

I took my eyes off the baby,  observed my students for a moment, and  thought this was the most precious education I could offer them.  If I don’t succeed in teaching them reading and writing during this year, I know that giving them the experience of the Centre an hour a week will be an education far surpassing any other kind of education.  Nothing else mattered at that moment.

 

The woman-manager of the Centre appeared at the door and in the customary Guinean way she seemed to float in as  the layers of coloured cotton draped her small frame, enveloped her and trailed around her. It always amazes me to see the Guinean women  dressed so beautifully even in the most mundane places.  They go about their daily work of  scrubbing floors, gutting fish or washing laundry calmly and steadfastly. To be dressed like this would stifle me and  prevent me from working. The manager looked at me, smiled and said “bonjour”. She bent down and whispered to Colette.  After a few minutes, Colette looked up and announced that the no-name baby would have a name. She said that since the baby was in the arms of a man for the  first time since his arrival at the Centre, he would be named Raymond.  We were both very touched by this gesture. We glanced at each other teary-eyed. We both knew we had adopted baby Raymond in our hearts and that we would be looking out for him from now on.  Maybe we would even find parents that would love to love him.

What's missing?

 What's missing?

I’ve been pondering this over and over in my mind and in my heart all weekend. What is missing right now in my life? Nothing is missing as far as my essential needs are concerned. We have a nice place to live, plenty of food, a good job.  In our  2 bedroom apartment we have 3 bathrooms and even though there is always one of these that is leaking water somewhere and the toilet seats are cracked and have been changed several times since our arrival and the eating area is claustrophobic, I have nothing to complain.  I still have our 5^th floor balcony where I can observe Guinean life day by day, moment by moment. Today for example, there was a large gathering in the courtyard in front of us. Raymond and I contemplated the scene that was playing itself out. People were all dressed up, some sitting on chairs, children playing by themselves and a large woman singing from a megaphone. The atmosphere was solemn. “Maybe someone died,” I told Raymond. We could not figure it out. At least it did not look like a political rally. We know what those look like now! Later in the day, when I went for my usual walk to the corner store, I asked the neighbour who was busy trimming a tree, what this ceremony was all about. He explained that it was a wedding and that in their Muslim custom the religious wedding occurred in the home and then later there would be the legal wedding at the city hall. I thanked him for the information and wondered if the families had now left to eat and dance in a hall somewhere, like we Canadians celebrate weddings. Somehow I don’t think this was the case. Still it had been all pretty solemn. Come to think of it, weddings are a serious affair!

So what’s missing? I do have a good job that I like and that I work very hard at right now, because I have so many course preparations and it is all new to me. I do enjoy my students and I do enjoy re-learning everything I learned in Middle School myself.  After the success of our Open House on Saturday, I have nothing to complain.  The food continues to be great, especially the fresh vegetables and fruits. Even though mango season is over, there are still juicy pineapples, plenty of big and small bananas, huge avocados, potatoes, zucchinis, green peppers, tomatoes, onions, apples, oranges and grapefruits. There are stall after stall overflowing with the fresh produce so we can eat to our heart’s desire for a fraction of the Canadian prices. Salad, spinach, broccoli and cauliflower are the only veggies missing in my diet. An interesting anecdote that came to my awareness this week in regards to the other foods we consume(canned goods, cheese, milk, yogurt, canned meats, eggs etc). I walked into the corner store and noticed the store workers busy as bees, unpacking boxes and filling the shelves. I had noticed that the shelves were getting bare. I spoke to the store owner and he explained. “The port was closed for the past 2 weeks because of the riots due to the election campaign, he explained. “Orders were given that no freighters were to dock, so no products were delivered in any of the stores in Conakry. Our economy has suffered due to this. But now business is back because everything is calmer now. That is good.” He continued stacking items, seeming relieved.  I had no idea that the political events of the last few weeks had that much of a domino effect on the local population. For a city that is built on a peninsula, it is critical that the port stay open and functioning smoothly. Most of the goods  people use arrive by freighters, are docked at the port and are brought in town by big trucks at times and by small men pushing humongous carts at other times.  It makes for very interesting scenery as we drive through Conakry.

So what’s missing is still the unanswered question. I often feel like I am looking for something deep inside of me, something that needs to be filled. Weekends are lonely and boring. Perhaps it is just that there is nothing to do other than school work. It feels like I don’t have a life. I have met a few people but I still feel isolated. Walking around is not easy because of the hot and humid climate, the noisy and careless drivers and the dirty streets with non-existing sidewalks. Most of all there is basically nowhere to go and nothing to do.  I have nothing to do on weekends, at least nothing like what I used to do in Vancouver. So is that what is missing…something to do?  I think it runs deeper than that. I think more pondering is necessary, but I have a sense that I miss belonging to a community. Today I found a church and got driven there by my Spanish friends Tanit and Patrick. It was very nice and invigorating…a small Catholic Church of 50 people, with a choir of 5 people that belted out hymns, accompanied by the African drums, their voices so strong that it blew the roof away. I felt at home here. Father George, the East Indian priest was inspiring. I will make this my regular Sunday morning routine.  This is community and it does fill my soul.  I still need a larger community to belong to and this may happen as I get more comfortable living here. I may need to belong to many small communities while I am here.  This is how I lived my life in Vancouver: first I had my family and home community, then my work communities, my gym community, my women’s group, my close friends and my neighbourhood community. I had many small groups that I belonged to and that would fulfill my life. After saying all this I do admit there was a bright spot in my week last Monday and this may add to my need of community. The highlight of my week was going to an African dance class where I met a dozen expatriate women all willing to follow the handsome instructor Ibrahim as he jumped from one intricate step to another. It was fun and a great workout too! All in all, today’s reflection leads me to see the importance of belonging. If I left Conakry right now, I would have a sense of unfinished business, but there would be no strong feelings of grief. I have not made any strong attachments yet. Perhaps that is what is missing in my life right now: a sense of belonging. I don’t feel I belong here yet.

 

 

School

School is a good place! School is a happy place! School is a fun place!  Here a few pictures of my students. Olivier, a grade 8 boy from Rwanda is very wise for his age. It will be interesting to see where he goes in his life and what he becomes. he is grounded and sensitive and very well liked by all. The girls picture from the farthest are Fredrein from Sierra Leone, a nice, polite all around good kid who looks older than a grade 6 student, Almitra, a grade 8 student from India who is interested in traveling around the world before she turns 18 and Lebo from South Africa, my 13 year old rebel with a mission to become herself! Here they are...vibrant, energetic and lively! Look at the principal, Dr. Lemoine enjoying his chawarma! 

What I know for sure

What I know for sure……

 

When was the last time you read Oprah’s monthly magazine?  On the last page of the O magazine, Oprah always writes a short article entitled “What I know for sure”.  Inspired by this title, I felt drawn to writing about what I know for sure in the context of my life in Africa.  Here goes!

 

What I know for sure is that  as I drive on my way to school, I will see chickens running across the road. Ever wonder why the chicken crossed the street?  It’s not only to get on the other side, but to avoid the Guinean traffic, which may include men pulling huge wheelbarrows, half ton trucks, motorcycles or 4  by 4’s !  What I also know for sure is that I will see several men urinating along a building or in the field along the railroad or close to a few goats busy munching the grass(the grass that the men were just urinating on….think about that, next time you eat goat meat!) I will see women and children washing or brushing their teeth right in front of me as we drive by.   I will see people set up stands to sell fruits and vegetables. I will see toddlers sitting on pee pots. I will see women brushing, pulling and combing girls’ hair, tying it tightly in corn rows.  I will smell the muggy morning air. I will see people dashing across the autoroute.  I will see mounds of rice being sold by gossiping women and men carrying baskets overflowing with loaves of fresh bread. I will see albinos, the same few every day and I will do a double take, convinced that they are white folks like me.

 

When I get to school, what I know for sure is that I will hear the roosters crow throughout the day. I will also see geckos scurry just in front of me. I will see the same 4 hens hiding under the bushes, their chicks huddling close to them.  I will take in the view of this school yard in a tropical setting like I’ve never seen before, with its' single papaya tree brimming with un-ripened green fruit and the flowered bushes undulating the rocky path to my classroom. I will smell the salty ocean air, hear the waves crash on the jagged rocks and feel the hot windy breeze  on my face.   Before I open the door to my classroom I will see the four maintenance workers in brown uniforms cleaning up the entire school yard, trimming the bushes, pulling out weeds and sweeping the sidewalks.  This is the reality of my life in Guinee five days a week at my little school, the American International School of Conakry.

What I know for sure is that my 8^th week begins in Conakry and I am still amazed by my daily observations of the Guinean way of life. It fascinates me, troubles me at times and touches me at other times. It is a journey into this new world in Africa that teaches me about a culture, a people, a nation.  It teaches me about my own resiliency, adaptability and creativity. For this experience I feel blessed and lucky!

 

(On the picture:  Can you find the roosters in the school yard???)

Eid Al Fotor

What a week this has been! First we had Monday off because the Muslim community ended Ramadan and then we had Friday off because the Muslim community celebrated Eid AlFotor which to my understanding is like Christmas to us! So as I was walking to the corner store, people were saying Bonne fete, Bonne Fete! Little kids shook my hand. People were dressed up in beautiful colors. Men and boys were wearing long tunics and many had the small round hats which added to the festive tone of the day. Music was playing in the streets and spilled out from people's homes. From my small balcony on the 5th floor, I can see that celebration is in the air! No one is selling items. The women are extravagantly dressed and not walking with banana trays on their heads...no, not today! I answered back: Bonne fete to anyone who addressed me and anyone who made eye contact.

Because of the feast of Eid Al Fotor,the school staff was invited to the Saudi Arabian ambassador's residence. What a feast that was! Trays and trays of food, boxes of chocolate and dates displayed everywhere in the living room along side Saudi jewelery. I remember the jewelery from my days living in Riyadh as it was quite elaborate yet cheap. His Excellency the ambassador and his youngest son Hussein were very gracious hosts. Hussein, a grade 10 student at our school spoke softly to Raymond asking if he was doing a good job of hosting! This was our exciting Friday night and our second outing and visit to someone's home. Seems like we "hang out" with ambassadors! This could make for a very interesting year!

The road not taken

In Canada it is the Labour Day weekend and here it was the end of Ramadan, the month long fasting and feasting of the Muslim community. It has been a more quiet day out on the street. We could tell it was Holiday.

I spent all afternoon, pouring over my books and trying to decide what textbooks to use with my students. I’ve assessed them now and I have a better sense of their abilities and how far I can take them. As I was preparing tomorrow’s grade 8 English Literature lesson, I fell upon a favorite poem of mine by Robert Frost. The poem is called The Road Not Taken and I probably studied this when I was in Middle School. Here are a few lines :

 

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveller, long as I stood

And looked down as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth

 

 

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

 

I think Robert Frost wrote this poem for me  as I ponder  the road I have taken, the choice I made to live in Conakry, Guinee.  Last year was a year of reflection for me. It was a year of deep self-evaluation. It was a year of discernment. It was like walking on a road in the forest of choices.  The decision of living overseas was challenging.  It was a year-long process of tossing ideas around about the motivations that I had and the motivations Raymond had to want to go live elsewhere outside Canada. We talked about leaving our  children, our home, our  well paying jobs and our comfortable lifestyle. Why leave everything behind ? What are we looking for ?  Are we crazy to leave all this ?

 Dialogue after dialogue, our road became clearer.  I kept asking : what motivates us to do this?  Raymond answered that he wanted to end his teaching career working overseas. He also wanted three things : 1) to live in a warm place 2) to make tons of money and 3) to not work too hard. He didn’t get all his 3 wishes by coming to Conakry, he only got the first!  For me, wherever we did land, it was imperative that living in an overseas location would have to be good for Raymond, good for me and good for us as a couple. So Conakry came to the surface of our choices and it looks like Conakry chose us!

 My personal quest had been long coming. I had been stressed for the 2 past years as far as my career was concerned. My personal and social life was great but not my career life.  I was extremely dissatisfied with the public school system. I felt limited with the counseling work I could do in schools  and simultaneously I felt stressed and stretched beyond my capacities and time with the demands of this job.  Too much time was spent with useless paper work and not enough people work.  Too much time was spent in meetings and not enough time was actually spent with students. Too much of my time was spent talking about needy students and not enough time was spent actually helping and supporting those needy students. Elementary schools are very intense places to work and I resisted the fast pace.  I wanted to get out of this system, this box called the school system. My head was always buzzing with mental to-do lists.  It was like I was always running in my head.  I started looking for counseling jobs elsewhere,  outside the school system. I met the chiroprator who was also manager of  Port Moody Integrated Health, a centre that offers massage therapists, chiropracticians  and a naturopathic doctor.  He was looking for a counselor in private practice to complete the services.  I was very attracted to this work, imagine actually counseling !  I could see myself greeting clients, seeing many different kinds of people and helping persons that really wanted counseling. I let myself dream for awhile. Then the reality of paying $600 rent every month(whether I had seen clients or not), having 2 weeks holiday a year and working evenings and Saturdays came to break my bubble of temporary joy.  I could not acccept these working  conditions, not at this point in my life.  After I let go of this dream, I applied for the Fraser Valley College in Abbotsford where they were looking for a college counselor. This job appealed to me even more as there was freedom to create and lead workshops pertaining to anxiety, stress and career choices at the college level. I never received a reply and I was dissapointed. Looks like my road was not leading me in that direction.

So the road not taken was the comfortable road, the road I drove so often to 50 Bedingfield Street in Port Moody, BC. That was the road I loved to take because it took me home. Now home is here in Conakry.  This road  I chose is leading me deep inside myself to the depths of me. Living here is teaching me important life lessons about money, lifestyle, comfort and the difference between wants and needs.  It is teaching me to ask important questions about the way I lead my life.  Living here in Africa is teaching me about me. And that is making all the difference.

(This is Bivan Camara our driver, posing with the school vehicle he drives every day on the many rocky roads of Conakry.)

Another week in Conakry

August 29 2010

 

     This week was interesting in many ways. On Tuesday after school, our driver Bivan took us to this governmental place in order that we may have our “carte de sejour”, a card that states that we are citizens of Guinee. We arrive in this place, a hole in the wall kind of place, puddles of mud and water that we had to walk around to wait in line for a short, important man to interrogate us. They took our passports and made copies of these. Then we were taken to another room where they took our finger prints and a picture. They asked me how tall I was in centimeters and all I could mumble as I looked on to Raymond for inspiration, was “5 foot five”. So the 3 Guineans in this office proceeded to guess my height. One man stood beside me and said “well I’m 175cm, so you must be 165”. We laughed and made light of this, enjoying the humour of the moment! So my card will say how tall I am(approxiamtely!) I was led to another place, a trailer-like place where they took a Polaroid picture of me. Then we walked back to the first place and handed over the pictures. That was it! Not bad  to process all this took about 30 minutes; for Africa time, this was quicker than I thought! True that they let us go before Guineans who had been waiting and because we are white there is a sort of  a reverence towards us. This doesn't always feel very good!

 

     On Wednesday, I met Tanit Carreno; she is the wife of the  deputy consulate, that is the second in command of the ambassador of Spain. Nice girl, who is 33 years old, just had a baby whose name is Patricio, pronounced Patreesee-o. Of course, the 5 month old baby is adorable and reminds me of my son Patrick. I am helping Tanit with her English and French oral exams  as she is taking a board exam to become a diplomat. Spanish is her first language and she needs help with 5 minute speeches that are part of the exam. We’ve decided we will meet 2-3 times a week to give her a boost before the exam which is scheduled in Spain in September. She wants to pay me but I declined and suggested rather that she give a donation to our school, perhaps much needed Library books. The extra money would have been nice as money is tight and we only live with cash here. Visa and Interac do not exist. Nevertheless, Tanit agreed to make a donation which will be greatly appreciated.

 

I was about to leave Tanit’s house at 6pm when her husband called and said that we should wait before leaving the house. The reason being was that there were many military trucks out and about. They were awaiting the arrival of the corpse of the ex-president’s son (he died in Montreal Monday…a drowning accident). It seemed that the entire city of Conakry was on high alert. So I had to wait in Tanit’s apartment for another 40 minutes. Actually we had a chance to talk about everything and nothing, which was great as I got to know her more. Tanit drove me home later in heavy traffic with military trucks visible and despite all this commotion, everything went smoothly.

 

Our driver Bivan’s  four year old son got malaria and Bivan had to bring him to the hospital and buy medications for him. My heart ached for the poor little guy. Of course Bivan has no medical insurance and with the salary of a driver here, I thought this must be a struggle for his family. Still, Bivan is very private and just told us the facts as they were. He reminds me of my grandfather Eloi Gagnon, who just passed away, in the sense of his character. He is quiet, serene and dedicated to driving us from home to school and wherever else we would like. He concentrates on driving when he is with us in the car; at times he talks and though we only understand half of what he says, we can get the jist.

I had difficulty falling asleep that night as I thought about Bivan and his little boy’s serious illness. I wonder what his home looks like and if they sleep under bed nets. So many malaria cases can be eliminated just by sleeping under bed nets. That was the first item that we bought on our arrival because I was well aware of the dangers of mosquito carrying malaria. I can’t help but wonder how many Guineans  have been violently sick or have died from this disease.

 

Today, Sunday was a great day! We walked to the Royal Riviera, the hotel where Raymond stayed on his trip here in May. We started at 10am so we would avoid the afternoon heat. When we arrived after a 40 minute walk, the Royal Riviera appeared like an oasis appears out in the desert. A large pool lined by tables awaited us. Wow! I thought I had died and gone to heaven! We sat and talked for an hour, just enjoying the  breeze and drinking our pop. Life was wonderful  and for an hour, I could forget that I was living in the poorest country in Africa. It was a boost for my morale to be in a lovely, well cared for environment! I was basking in the moment, in the sheer pleasure of finding this place, like someone who finds a treasure. I know where we will be coming next Sunday....we won't forget our bathing suits!

 

 

Sunday August 22: one month in Conakry

     Today we celebrate our month arrival in Conakry. What a month it has been! A month of grieving, observing and learning. It has also been a month of big changes: changes in the weather, culture, food and politics. Today we walked in a few new areas of Conakry. We went to a park, called Parc du 2 octobre....don't know why it is called like this but I'm sure there is a story. Raymond said that during his orientation trip in May, he was told that before the coup d'etat of last September, this park was full of people, vendors were everywhere and families would come in large numbers. Today we were the only 2 people walking around. There is potential for this park to be really nice! The bonus of walking in the parc, was that it was slightly cooler than walking on the road. Notice the long roots hanging from this tree.

     A favorite statue of mine is this statue of a black man freeing himself from chains. I find this statue very powerful! It speaks of freedom. The statue stands over 6o feet tall so it has a presence. You can't miss it!

     

On my way to school: Friday August 20 2010

This week was the first week of school. It went well! For me teaching Middle School is brand new. I never really liked this age very much, actually I found kids at Middle School excited, loud and generally annoying. Now I have to make my peace with Middle School students. After my first week, I can say that I quite enjoyed my students. True, I only have  7 students, so this gives me a unique experience of working with a very small group. Nevertheless, they keep me on my toes! My students are interesting but the drive to work is even more interesting, unpredictable and sometimes mind blowing. So I took pictures to document what I see on my way to school every day. The first picture is on a piece of aluminum fencing. Someone spray painted: Do not urinate here: 50000 francs fine ($8US). Isn't this is a hoot?

      The next picture is a closeup of an aluminum fence. These are all over the place. There are many holes to let the wind blow through. This is probably the cheapest material available in Guinee, which explains why there are so many of them. The fences can be found just about everywhere. I wouldn't want to fall on the sharp edges!