The family that jumps together.....

Nadine and Patrick have initiated us to jump shots. The idea is simple. We find a place that is symbolic of the life experience of the moment. We get in jump position and we attempt to all jump together on the count of 3. Of course we spend a lot of time laughing during this entire process. Kamloops in July 2011 was the city where the first jump shot came to existence. Now we have 2 other jump shots to add to our repertoire: Kassa Island and Soumba Cascades in Conakry, Guinea, Africa.

Our two kids gave us the best Christmas gift ever or should I rephrase that and say WE gave ourselves the best gift by having them come to Conakry for two weeks. They got to experience Conakry and our daily life as we have been living it for the past 18 months. They lived a slice of our life and loved every minute of it…and so did we! Then we embarked on the grueling 33 hour plane trip that took us back to Vancouver and now Whistler, the beautiful ski resort. One side of the spectrum to the other…poverty of Guinee and the richness of Canada. I am adjusting to the contrast slowly, day by day, processing everything I have lived and seen.

In Guinee, Nadine’s adventurous spirit led her down suspicious looking back lanes in Conakry, eating street food voraciously and dancing the night away in the Guinean night clubs and meeting interesting, out of the ordinary people. She dove head first into the Guinean lifestyle and tried everything. She learned a few local words and knew how to hail down a taxi with the different hand signals needed for going into different parts of town. Then she got sick with the stomach-diarrhea illness for eating couscous with curdled milk, something only the locals can “stomach”, literally speaking. Ohhhh did she suffer! Too much, too intense and the hot climate to add to this……but that’s my girl: intense living! She bites into life and gets the Full MONTY experience wherever she goes.

Patrick is more cautious. He’ll let Nadine lead the way and once the ice has been broken, he will absorb LIFE as it comes to him, minute by minute, letting experiences permeate him as if by osmosis. Reflective philosopher that he is, he will patiently sit and wait to take a picture of the fearful, scurrying gecko. Or he will walk around a tree only to lie down on the ground to get just the right snapshot angle of it. He will talk to the locals as if he has always known them. That’s my boy, taking life in as it happens, as he experiences every moment, peaceful and serene like his hero Mohammet Gandhi.

Extrovert and introvert: I have one of each. How interesting their personalities, their life goals and their passions! When we come together the four of us, we are like pieces of a puzzle that just fit well together. We know each other, respect each other and trust each other. Our many overseas experiences have brought us closer perhaps because so often, we only had each other. We were for each other at all times, supporting each other through the challenging times and laughing together with the absurdities of life in Saudi Arabia or the comical situations in Belgium. We have been together through thick and thin.

Our new teacher at AISC noted our connection. She said: “You guys really get along well, your relationship with each other is harmonious. I wish I had that with my parents.” I took her words in, letting them sink inside of me. I had never really thought about how connected we really are. Conakry, Guinea, Africa and now Whistler, BC, Canada…we are together the four of us and that’s what is important and beautiful. Today, this is what I know for sure.

Safari in Kenya....awesome!

Thomas

He was standing at the front of Utaliia Hotel, alert, polite and smiling. Wearing his perfectly pressed bellhop uniform with the dark blue cap cocked slightly to the side, he looked distinguished and professional. He was a short man, quiet and mild mannered. I stepped out of the van and wondered if he would remember me. I clumsily fumbled for the plastic bag and walked towards the entrance of the hotel. A slow smile emerged on his face. I knew then that he remembered me.

Raymond asked hastily: Do you remember us, we were here last year? He nodded and answered: “Of course I do.” We shook hands warmly. I opened the crumpled plastic bag and retrieved a small photo. “That’s me” he said, in a proud voice. Of course it was him, standing so seriously just as he was today wearing the same uniform with the gold buttons. Raymond and I are standing beside him and I have one arm around his shoulder.

Memories flashed back like the images of a cluttered power point, as last years’ events were present in my mind, coming alive by the second. In October 2010, I had been extremely ill having difficulty breathing, nausea and dizziness compounded by an excrutiating headache. Thomas had organized my move from the hotel to the hospital. He had acted quickly, pushing the old wheel chair close to my bed and had gently given me a warm blanket and had softly said: “I’m sorry madame, I’m so sorry.” His compassion and caring had touched me. Even in my terrible state of health, I felt the kindness of this Gentle Soul. Through my half-opened eyes, I had seen the worry on his face as the car had pulled away from the hotel.

Upon my return from the hospital after 4 drug-induced days, Thomas’ wide smile and shy demeanour welcomed me back at Utiliia Hotel. “Good to see you madame, good to see you,” Thomas had said in his quiet way. I had smiled at this genuine, caring man, remembering so well this gentleman. He was probably a father and had undoubtedly worked as a bell hop all his life. A great spirit leading a simple life. These thoughts were slowly moving through my convalescing mind and body as I reached the door to my room. The smell of exotic flowers, like brightly colored jewels welcomed me. Beside it was a basket spilling over with fragrant African fruits. It was a feast for the senses! Propped up between these generous gifts was a get-well card simply signed “the staff at Utiliia Hotel”.

A year ago, Thomas’ kindness had touched me, the kindness of a stranger, really a man just doing his job. I had come back to thank him, given him his picture and handed him a Canada baseball cap. It was a moment, a moment in time where two Beings connected.

We said goodbye. Raymond shook hands and I hugged him thanking him again for his kindness. As the car pulled out of the parking lot, Leah our GO2Africa Safari guide said: “he is a humble man”. Indeed he is, indeed he is I thought, unable to speak. She had captured in that simple word the essence of Thomas. Perhaps it was his kindness juxtaposed with the violence of malaria or perhaps it was the synchronicity of the universe that had sent me this African angel, but today’s visit was a life giving moment, a precious moment with a transcendental quality.

I choose

Feeling blue today. It’s Sunday and with it comes a long day of nothing. I have no plans for the day. As I look out the patio doors, the sun is singing its bright melody. Hooray, I think to myself, looks like monsoon season is over! The sun’s revelation helps move my inner feelings of drab and dull up a notch. The phrase: “I don’t want to be here any more” has been living in my head since the day we made our decision to leave Conakry. I find it a struggle to live here, to be in the moment and to have a positive outlook in my every day life. The material environment continues to affect me: the red dirt and dust that stains feet and socks, the garbage mounds in the streets, the stench of old fish and waste rotting and the poverty of my Guinean brothers reach me to my core. Everyday.

Weekends are most challenging. My life grinds to a halt. During the week days, school keeps me busy but life on weekends is confined to living in the apartment watching food channels, reading, doing school work and preparing meals. Feeling bored is not the feeling. It is beyond that. It is a lonely existence, an isolation from society and a sense of feeling trapped, confined. I feel I have no choice but to endure life in Conakry with the limitations that choke me. No choice. No friends. Nowhere to go. Limited existence. If I would drive it might be different but even then, where would I drive to? There is no Shoreline Path to hike, no malls, no beach boardwalk, no parks, no cafes, no Starbucks, no beautiful countryside road to drive along. These do not exist in Conakry. What I long for does not exist here, period. The few friends that I have are all out of the country right now. Our favourite couple has moved to India, our humanitarian friend Colette is gone on home leave to Canada for 4 months and our only French Canadian couple is unavailable(he is working 16 hour days here and she is undergoing dental surgery in Quebec). Sigh!

Impasse. That’s where I am this Sunday morning. I am also battling a sinus head cold……my head feels like a ten ton truck loaded with bricks. Yuk! I haven’t had a bad cold for a long time. I had forgotten how miserable it makes one feel. Anyway, back to Sunday morning….

Our routine Sunday activity is to walk to the pool, do 30 minutes of laps, lounge around the pool and then walk back home. Raymond is ready to leave at 10am this morning; he too is suffering from cabin fever! My head weighs heavy with the sinus headache and I debate whether I have the energy to undertake the 30 minute walk or stay in the quiet of my apartment. I quickly opt for the walk, knowing that the gains of going out, getting vitamin D and changing my environment will also change my inner environment. I am right.

Once at the pool, Raymond starts swimming and I settle down to writing this blog. I notice a young French couple sitting nearby. He is reading and she is doing a cross stitch project, comfortably sitting on the pool’s lounge chairs. She is a gorgeous blond in a bikini doing cross stitch! This is not your typical picture of the pool side crowd!! She has an aura about her that is peaceful and content…so curiosity got the best of me and I approached her. We end up talking for an hour, introducing each others’ husbands and finding common threads in our life experiences. They arrived in Conakry 10 days ago from their previous posting in Sudan; he works for the French Embassy and she will be teaching French at the Cultural Center. They too feel isolated. We exchange emails and phone numbers and agree to meet again soon. What is it in human beings that happens, that split second decision to make a step, to dare move out of our comfort zone and speak to a complete stranger? I know that this morning I had a deep need to reach out and connect with people, even if that meant complete strangers. I’m glad I did. This morning made me realize that I’ve been dwelling in a mental state of “have not”. I do not have friends, no social life, no gym, no Starbucks. NO, NOT and “fed up” have been living in my head for the last 2 weeks. I’ve been feeding the demons of negative self-talk and they are now overweight! They are weighing heavy on me, heavy on my mind and to no surprise I am suffering from a head cold. Body and Being are so connected. Time to let the demons loose!

We can look at life and see a glass half full or a glass half empty, to coin a common bumper sticker saying. I guess I’ve been doing the latter. I hear my sister Mariette’s voice ringing in my ear right now. Mariette is an Ever-Ready bunny dynamo of positive energy! As far as I know, she has never been depressed one day in her life! If she was here right now she would tell me that I always have a choice. I always have a choice in the way I respond to life events. It is impossible to be completely stuck and say that one has absolutely no choice. I choose to see my present life circumstances with positive eyes or negative eyes. I choose. Having made a commitment to a 2 year contract, pursuing my goal of helping a little school in distress, I can choose to live happily or not with the constraints of life in one of West Africa’s poorest countries. Friedrich Nietzsche explained it well: “The end of a melody is not its goal; but nonetheless, if the melody had not reached its end it would not have reached its goal either.” The process of leaving has started and I will reach my goal June 15 2012, when I end my contract in Guinee. Meanwhile, I embrace the process, the experiences yet to come and the people yet to discover. I choose.

Leaving

     September 2011 is now here and we are back in school mode working at our little school with the big heart: American International School of Conakry(AISC), here in Guinea. Am I glad to be back? I do not have the same enthusiasm as I did last year. I do not vibrate at the newness of everything like I used to last year. I do not get frustrated with everything that does not work. I know my reality now. There is a sense of acceptance of my life as it is, here in Guinea, Africa. Am I glad to be back? I am glad to be working at the school and want to complete the projects that I had started last year. I and we did commit to a 2 year contract and we will honour that, but I am finding living in Conakry more challenging than last year and I do look forward to a more comfortable lifestyle and a new place to live in the world.

     On September 14, Raymond and I announced to the school staff that we would not renew our contract and that we will leave in June 2012. We explained that we love the school, staff and parent community but living in Conakry is very challenging. All the teachers were sitting around the table in the staff room and not a word was spoken. Even if I was at peace with our decision, I could feel the sadness and tension in the room. I wanted to jump out of my skin! Some teachers were crying and most were staring at the table, eyes downcast. I had feared that there would be a big reaction from the staff but not this big. This was a solemn moment. Africans, I have come to observe tend to be more contemplative than we North Americans. We process information, crises and difficult situations by talking and talking more. Africans are more quiet. They let news of any kind sink inside of them; they honour silence and are comfortable in a room full of people that are silent. So at our announcement, they were processing the news they had just heard, in silence. One teacher looked straight at me and said “you” pointing at me. I shrugged my shoulders, bit my lip and tried a half-smile as I squirmed in my chair. She was telling me that she did not like our decision. Since last year, she had been telling me that we needed to stay at least another two years, that the school was doing so well with the two of us here, that the school needed the continuity, that the staff admired the positive atmosphere and noted the upward momentum since our arrival. I had not given her any sign whether we were leaving or staying.

     After the initial shock, Raymond got up and we both walked outside. Three teachers came to chat with us, still in disbelief. “Is it something we did?” one asked bravely. We immediately answered no! What followed was an open, frank discussion of the many factors that we took into consideration as we were deliberating to add on another year or to leave. The school is a wonderful community. Living in Conakry is the challenge. Too bad the school is not located somewhere else in the world or even in another country in Africa. That discussion on the steps of the school opened the communication doors wide. I’ve noticed that since then my colleagues are more transparent; they are sharing their thoughts more and that is good. Last year, I often wondered what they were thinking and feeling and perhaps now our relationship will change. We were real, frank and transparent as we announced our difficult decision of leaving and they sensed our openness and truth. No one begged us to stay. They knew.

     Nevertheless, this was indeed one life moment I will never forget. If we would have been wavering in our decision, we could have easily been swayed to stay because the group reaction was so strong. We are appreciated and we both feel fulfilled at our school. June 15 2012 will be a very sad time when we say our final good-bye. But, I also know that I will carry in my heart our little school forever and the people that I have grown to love also. That I know for sure.

Awa

I can’t help but be in a reflective mood this week. We have made it through our first year, our first year in Africa. “Rejoice for this accomplishment”, a little voice says inside of me. It really is an accomplishment! To have been uprooted from our abundant Canadian lifestyle and parachuted in Conakry, one of the top 10 failed nation states and have survived it is a major achievement.

School’s out and with it comes an immense sense of relief. As I look back at my year in Conakry I am grateful for all the life lessons learned:

1) The first of these lessons was to experience life in its simplicity. I can live with very few material possessions. I don’t need a bunch of stuff to be happy. I can do without many things. I can live very well with my beautiful, white bare walls in my simple apartment on the sixth floor in Conakry.

2) The second life lesson was to evaluate the way I live my every day life: is a life of high-speed- internet style really that fulfilling? I’ve learned that Africa-slow-down-and-smell-the-roses style has many benefits. The first benefit is a richer, more interesting life and a life with less stress. I am learning from my Guinean brothers that relationships are foremost important. Everything stems from the relationships you have with people. In order to establish relationships, you need to take TIME to connect with people. This means talking to the tailor for 30 minutes before asking him to sew up a new outfit. It also means asking Myriam, the girl at the fruit stand how her life is going, how school is going for her before purchasing the fresh produce she is selling and it means checking in with the clerk at the store on her family and her kids. It all takes time, but it is very important time.

3) Being vs Doing. I have struggled with these two concepts most of my life. My father used to say Avoir et Etre, the two most common verbs in the French language, but they determine how you choose to live your life. He is SO right. I threw myself in a whirlwind activism as I arrived at a new school, new job of teaching Middle School and new place to live in the world. I worked and worked and worked. On the weekends, everything stopped. There was NOTHING TO DO, really nothing to do. This is when the Being started to make its way in my consciousness. It is ok to just Be I would tell myself. So used to moving about and DOING stuff, I struggled with this for most of the year, but I have learned to tame the notion of being comfortable with Being.

It was a very challenging year, an intense experience of dealing with culture shock, poverty, a national election, riots in the streets and living with a curfew and trying to find my place in this place that at times shook me to my core and s-t-r-e-t-c-h-e-d me as a human being. I questioned my values and beliefs and struggled to find an answer to what’s missing in my life (see earlier blog).

In my other overseas experiences I took language courses so I could communicate with the local population. Here I never did. There are so many dialects spoken that it is mind boggling, so I chose none. However there was one word that I kept hearing over and over. The word was “awa”. My curiosity got the best of me and one day I asked ”What does it mean?”. I learned that awa means yes. So now after a year in Africa, I can say awa; it is true that I lived a very enriching, challenging year. Awa it was an intense year, emotionally, physically and intellectually. Awa to the many beautiful people I met at my little school with the big heart. Awa to all the relationships I made with the people in my neighbourhood.

I learned. I grew. I learned more. I grew more. Now after this time of reflection I say awa to another year.

7:20AM

Monday morning June 6, 7:20AM and I just got to school. My head is prioritizing. What to do first? Well, first things first. Photocopies for my first class at 8:30. That was easy. I walk over to the computer lab and greet my Malian fellow colleague Issa. He always brightens my day. He has such a positive outlook on life and is goodness incarnated, compassion on two feet really, caring and generosity all rolled into one great human being. So after our usual small talk of the weekend’s ventures, I start to make copies…..Vram ! The photocopier gets stuck. Issa immediately rises from his chair and comes to help me. We work out the few kinks from the antiquated photocopier and start again. First, second and third try…..and I give up. The machine jams every time. Issa reminds me in his usual practical philosophy that the machine is tired, after all it is over 10 years old. “Just like human beings” he says, “elle a de l’age.” « I’ll go see Ruth, » I hurriedly tell him and walk over to the office copier. Same thing with the same results. Aggggghhhhh ! By now, I am sweating and my stress level has gone up a few notches. Two machines to make copies at our school and they both are on the blink. For those who are not teachers, photocopiers are our life line. So many lessons are planned around having handouts for students so NOT photocopying is not an option!

I walk over to my classroom, unlock the door and as I walk in, the heat hits me in a huge wave. I flick the switch for the air conditioner and hot air pushes out…..OH NO! I say out loud ! Not again…the AC does not work ! I walk back to the office at a quick pace and now sweat runs down my back. Nothing works this morning….AGGGHH ! I get to the office and tell Ruth in a frazzled voice that the air conditioner in my classroom which by the way was not working either on Friday, is still not working now Monday morning. I glare at her….isn’t she supposed to get things fixed. Ruth stammers: « I called the guy on Friday but he never called back she says. I’ll call him now….yes please I said ! It’s urgent…you are dealing with someone who has serious hot flashes…And a soon to be room full of complaining, smelly teens.

Running around like this at such an early time in the morning over stimulates my bladder so I head off to the bathroom. The toilet does not flush….aghhhhh ! I open the tap to wash my hands and no water comes out….I wait a few seconds and brown water sputters out……yuck I say ! Finally clear water barely trickles out, but there is no soap. I rinse my hands. There is no paper towel to dry my hands. Agghhhhhh !

I look at Raymond and fire comes out of my eyes…. « Nothing works this morning » I practically scream…..AGGGGGHHHHH! It is 8am and I am not ready for my class. We start with morning assembly; announcements and then we walk over to our classrooms. I have to get to my classroom door before my dear Middle School students, otherwise the day starts chaotically. They are usually as high as kites on Monday mornings….excited to see each other after a weekend deprived of each other’s company. I head off at a quick pace, ahead of my teenage tribe, but Raymond stops me. I look up and see him with a mother and two kids. The oldest looks like a possible student for my class. I walk over and in my usual cheery voice say « Bonjour! « They are from Cote d’Ivoire so I know that French is their first language. I imagine that they are visiting the school and want to inquire for the August start up of school. NO!! To my surprise the young girl is coming in today to visit and will stay till the end of the school year….she speaks no English at all! Aghhhhhh…what will I do with a new student when there are 10 school days left. I walk with her over to my overheated classroom with the already hyper students who have been screaming and laughing, because of course I have been delayed. She has no desk, speaks no English is evidently uncomfortable, completely lost in this sea of noisy, overzealous teenagers.

I try to make her feel comfortable and speak to her in French. I ask my students to introduce themselves and I introduce the young girl. I find a chair for her to sit on. My students are now even more excited to have a new student in class and are showing off by being even more boisterous. « But its too hot to stay in the classroom, » they complain. « I know, tell me about it » I said…trying to keep calm. I wait for everyone to calm down and look at me. « Looks like things are not working well this morning. I want you all to find your inner Zen, your inner peace right now. Think about the day you want to have, will it be positive or negative? You all have the choice to decide which one it will be…will your actions will be positive or negative? » As I hear myself say those words, I am finding my inner peace, SOMEWHAT. I can’t believe what I have been through since this morning and I haven’t even been at school for one hour yet. I’m exhausted! And yes there are only 6 school days left….whew! My students file out of the room with me as we seek out to find the nearest air-conditioned room. Comfort at last…. we decide to go to the Library. The air conditioner is humming as we walk in and the cool air is refreshing; it becomes immediately a wonderful oasis…..even with the smell of rotten mice and mold in there …..Sigh! This is my little school in Africa…..and I’m not used to the dysfunctionnality after a year. Will I ever be? I wonder.

The day ends on a more positive note. Once I arrive home, I walk over to the supermarket. I buy $70 worth of food items. The polite man at the cashier says that he will help me bring my bags home and I accept his offer as it is a 5-minute walk. We chat along the way and exchange ideas about the lack of expatriates which makes for a poorer Guinea. “They do bring in a lot for the economy, “he says, in a matter of fact yet sad undertone in his voice. Then he explains that his salary is 200,000 GF a month…I am speechless. I repeat 200,000 GF a month to him as if I did not understand; “how can you make ends meet,” I say? This is $30 a month and he needs to feed himself and his family of four. He says that it is difficult, « mais c’est comme ca. » Guineans are eternal optimists. I thank him as he leaves me at my door and I add an extra amount of money in his hand. I have nothing to worry about, don’t I? I have no right to complain about my life..….

Happy 30th Anniversary!

In between

Mothers' Day morning and I realize that I am grateful to be a mother. Grateful because of who I have become thanks to having children. I certainly remember when my Nadine was born. I never knew that I could have feelings of love so deep in me that they would rock me to my very core. Having a child did that to me. Then there was Patrick, a son to complete our family. Again my love just grew even more…what, I thought to myself, I can have room for two in my heart? Yes and then love grew stronger.  I understood why when I was a kid and asked my Mom : who do you love best, is it me ? I love all of 7 of you equally. She would always give the same answer, to me and to my siblings. Now I understand why when you bring children in the world, you bring love to your world and there is no end to that.

The next thought that came to me was that it surely would be nice to go have Mother’s Day brunch at Ricky’s Restaurant in Coquitlam Mall. Raymond and I found this little, unassuming diner last year and the food is terrific! What I would give to be there right now, I sighed. There is nowhere in Conakry where we can eat a nice breakfast, you know the cheese omelets-toast- hash browns-sausages and bacon kind of breakfast. Sigh again ! So I decided to stop the self-pity and whining and whip up a cheese omelet while Raymond was washing dishes (he is the live dishwasher). It was the best alternative to brunch at Rickys’ and actually was a pretty nice way to start my Sunday.

Conakry is in between seasons right now. The hot dry season with the harmattan cycle has been interspersed with a few downpours. Yes! We have had 3 rainstorms in the last 2 weeks…beautiful, heaven sent rain! Rain cleans the air and leaves it with that fresh ozone smell and the dust settles, the trees are greener and the clouds disperse to show the blue sky again. Rain is really a magic ingredient in Mother Earth’s bosom. The mango trees are abundant with fruit, and so much that it looks like the branches will snap at any moment. Gorgeous, red, yellow, orange fruit rich with flavour, drop from the trees in our school yard. Merchants stack small pyramids of mangoes along the roads and the fruits look like little soldiers lined up in their sunshine-colored coats. People here call these first rains the mango rains and understandably so.

I am also in between in my work place since my teaching assignment is to teach Middle School. That is a tough place to be for me. These kids have so much energy that if I could bottle their energy, I would become an instant millionaire. The peaks in  teen hormones are visible when I hear the giggling spasms from around the building, the incessant chatter and the running from one place to another. The boys’ feet are bigger than the rest of their bodies and their clumsiness knocks over anything or anyone that happens to be in the way. Should I mention body odor too? Whew!! My middle age body tires by noon and the hot flashes increase as my patience decreases. Menopausal woman teaching Middle School:  how intense can that be!

I am at the in between stage of my life and realize that I do not have the motivation, patience and energy I had when I was a sweet, young thing of a teacher. Gone are the days when I would sign up for night courses in order to learn how to use my new sewing toy, a serger.  That was after a full day of teaching, doing homework with my kids, do the supper then bed routine and then race off to East Vancouver, an hour’s drive away! Was I crazy? No, I was young and energetic!

Living in Guinee now for 9 months, Raymond and I have met many interesting expats. We have met people working for big oil companies and embassies, who have drivers, a huge villa with cooks, gardeners and guards, generous expense accounts, bonus vacations and a generous hardship post salary. On the other hand we have met modern day missionaries, single women and families who have come to Guinee sponsored by churches back in the US or Canada.  They live with little or no electricity or air condition, at times, no running water, no refrigerators and live as simply as they can. One has a solar panel system that runs her small fridge and she loves the way it works. We admire them.

On the other hand, we have a modest apartment with handed down furniture and bare walls.  We have electricity 24/7 (albeit several outages every evening…), running water, a balcony and a spacious dwelling. It is comfortable and modest. I would not be able to live like my Guinean neighbours in shanty dwellings and yet my conscience would bother me if I lived in luxury. We have found a middle ground that suits us. We both love our shower and our coffee in the morning and would not be happy campers without a few basics, so our lifestyle here is in between rich and poor.

I phoned maman in Winnipeg on Mother’s Day and woke her up. The call woke up my papa also and he had to immediately get up, take his shower and get dressed. He is at this stage of his illness where he perseverates on certain routines, has to do what he needs to do and then he can settle somewhat and becomes calmer. Maman and I talk about everything and nothing. I complain about my tough life in Africa, how difficult it is, though as I write this I don’t know exactly what is difficult.  Then my attention turns to her as she whispers that papa is in the shower. We can talk, really talk now that he is not within earshot. I listen while she tells me just a few things about her life and relates her daily life living with my father. I tell her that she is brave, heroic and strong. I admire her faith, acceptance and deep inner strength. She says: “He’s finished his shower now. I’ll have to go. He needs me now.” After we say good-bye, my mom’s presence is still with me. My mom’s acceptance of her life stays with me. If she can accept her present situation then I certainly can accept my life here.  Even if my life in Guinee is tough and I dearly miss my Canadian lifestyle, my life is easy compared to the challenging life my maman has. My maman has accepted her situation and her life is much more difficult than mine. I CHOSE to come and live in Africa. I made the decision a year ago to come to Conakry, Guinee, West Africa.  She did not choose to live with a husband with Alzheimers.

 

 

Black inside

 

Thursday afternoon, 2pm. It is the end of the week and the school day stretches on for another hour. The AC in my classroom is not belting out its usual cold air and it is HOT, really hot, 44oC hot. Here, in Conakry the humidity factor adds to the heat. The AC is my life line right now. There is no other way to exist here, to work with young teenagers, teaching those long hours, end of the day, end of the year….April seems to stretch forever. June is too far away.

 I need to find my own energy to motivate my students at this time of the day and this time of the year. Fortunately, we are studying Africa in our social studies program and the kids are very motivated, interested and positive. Each time one of them reads about one of the students country of origin, their eyes light up and they soon babble endlessly about traditions, foods they enjoyed or activities they did.  The motivation  is high as the subject of   Africa is pertinent to all of them.   We are sitting around the rectangular table at the back of the class all of us wedged together, these seven 12 year olds  and myself. We,ve been sitting around this table as we have since last August, sometimes goofiness sets in and we digress from the subject at hand. At other times,  there have been heavy silences as one shared the loss of mom’s unborn babies. Then there was the lesson where they all wanted to share the terror of experiencing the coup d’etat of September 28 2009. I  had let them talk, knowing from a counselor’s point of view that they needed to speak about their personal experience of fear.

I glance at the clock and notice there are only 5 minutes left, not enough time to start another chapter, not enough time to answer written questions so I decide to just sit and continue talking. Teenagers LOOOOOVE to just talk and hang out. I tell them about our Yaakaar project in Senegal, how we visited local schools, helped at orphanages and how I also have a village. “What do you mean you have a village…you slept in a hut?” Fredrein asks ”it can’t be your village if you don’t sleep there!” I explain that I did not sleep in the hut but I did spend two full days with the women of the village of Ndoundoch. I explained that spending time with the women has more meaning to me than anything else right now.

I don’t know exactly how we got on to what happened next, but I heard myself saying “Sometimes I wish I was black ….” I continued…”I think that I would fit in more. I would understand Africans more……”. My voice trailed.  Then out of nowhere, Lebo, my 13 year old rebel, fashion queen spoke. “Mme Mulaire, you can be black inside.” I said nothing, just looking at her quiet demeanour, noticing her sincere tone,  and serious dark eyes. I let her words sink in. My students left for their PE class and I stayed behind, contemplating those words….”you can be black inside” she had said. Wisdom from a teenagers heart. Wisdom to touch my heart today.

 

 

 

Butterfingers

It is Thursday afternoon and Raymond and I are being driven to the US Embassy. I am looking for  a film about  the history of baseball and how black people were excluded from playing professional baseball in the 1950’s. This past week, I’ve been reading this short story with my students and wanted to bring this story more to life by showing the movie. I just found out that there is a small video store at the US Embassy and that the DVD: The Shutout might be there.  So I am ‘on a mission’ to find a movie to help my students understand the implications of racism and the evolution of blacks in America…..a challenging concept for 11-12 year olds to grasp, hence the reason for a showing a movie.

After the thorough screening at the entrance of the embassy, Raymond and I found the video store tucked away in a corner.  Shelves full of videos were  well organized and typical American junk food was sitting right there at eye level. Red Twizzlers licorice was staring at me….I could not believe it! Here I was in a video store with chocolate bars and Nacho chips! The attendant showed us the US memorabilia for sale, thinking that we would be impressed with the coffee cups and pennants printed  with gold US EMBASSY  lettering. My disinterest was obvious as I kept poring over the shelves for the much  needed video. It was not there. So my attention turned to the candy bars. I turned to Raymond and to the attendant and asked: “Can we buy some of these? “ “Of course you may,” the attendant replied politely, “and let me show you other items that we have in the refrigerator and freezer.”  My mouth gaped …what freezer and which refrigerator?

The attendant opened the freezer door and to our surprise there was cheddar cheese and 12 grain bread! “We’ll buy those,” I said so quickly that I surprised myself, as if this was a dream and I would be awakened and disappointed. We paid for the cheese, bread, Twizzlers and a Butterfingers candy bar. I just had to have good old American junk food. I was floating as we walked out of the Embassy, holding tightly to my new found treasures. I was keeping my wealth close to me, not wanting anyone to see what I was carrying in case it may vanish. I felt selfish not wanting to share any of my new found valuables, with anyone but Raymond.  While I was paying the attendant, Raymond went to get the school mail which arrives on a regular basis  here at the Embassy Mail Room.

We stepped outside and here we were back in Guinee, in the real world, in the heat of the mid-afternoon sun and the dust and hazy sky of the harmattan season.* Bivan, our driver was waiting for us beside the school car, as always, reliable and calm. As I sank in the back seat of the car, I dwelled on this sensation of  glee that had overtaken me. Why was I acting like a kid in a candy store? I suppose it was because I WAS a kid in a candy store. For the last 20 minutes, I felt back home, back in the familiar of my life, back in a video store with the junk food temptations.

As the car moved  on, I took the first bite of my Butterfingers candy bar and the chocolate and crispy peanut butter awoke my taste buds. Wow this is sooooo good! I was in a reverie and experiencing sheer delight! I felt like I was in my own world, reveling  in my new found wealth, the chocolate melting in my mouth. People who know me, know that I am a chocoholic. Over the years, I have developed a taste for very good chocolate, Lindt chocolate being my favorite. Today’s Butterfingers candy bar was not about enjoying gourmet chocolate. It was about getting a taste of back home. 

I had just found here in Guinee, of all places, 12 grain bread, cheddar cheese and a Butterfingers candy bar…..and then I saw her. She was standing in the roundabout, hailing down a taxi. She was dressed in black from head to toe, her face was completely covered: a Muslim woman. We rarely see them here in Conakry. Flashbacks from my life in Saudi Arabia  popped in my mind at that very moment. I wonder if she knows freedom I thought to myself. Does she know what freedom is? I wonder if she  has ever had the ecstatic feeling of eating a candy bar by herself and for herself? What if I was to trade lives with her? I slid lower in the seat and continued biting into my candy bar. The thoughts  of this woman’s lack of freedom were haunting me as I saw 3 young children running on the side of the busy road,  a stick and a plastic bag in hand, laughing and screaming as they saw the plastic bag inflate like a kite. The innocence of children I thought. Would these Guinean children ever know real kites, kites with rainbow colors, designs and funky shapes that climb ever so high in the wide open skies? Probably not. Would they ever experience the freedom that I grew up with? ? Does the average Guinean dream of freedom? Is freedom different for people in poor countries, what we call, being politically correct, developing countries….and what is it that they are developing anyway?

Are we more developed because we have candy bars and video stores on every street corner? In our North American world of overabundance, we know that everything we need and anything we want, we can get. We have experienced abundance to the point where we have not realized that our abundance has developed into overabundance. Does this overabundance give us freedom?  I folded my half-eaten candy bar into my purse.  My cheap chocolate craving  was over.  Freedom, I conclude is an inner state of being, wherever one lives in the world. It is our inner state that decides how free we really are.

*Harmattan is to Guinee as the chinooks are to the Albertans. Chinooks are a warm air current that melts the winter snow and turns a region into a spring day while harmattan is a warm wind from the Sahara desert that carries with it dust and creates hazy skies in Guinee.

...and this is Guinée!

You can rub your eyes over and over again….but this is Guinée! Sunday was a memorable day! Raymond and I were invited to join a group of expats for a day on the island of Roam. Wow….our first trip outside of the city! Needless to say, we were very excited to go on our first field trip..

We met other expats at a boat launch next to Conakry’s best restaurant, appropriately called Petit Bateau. The restaurant juts out in the water and boasts the best view of Conakry! We walked around the grounds of the restaurant and we promised ourselves that we will come here to eat one day soon. At around 10am, we climbed into a motor boat and were whisked off thirty minutes away on a beautiful, sandy island, adorned with palm trees. Was I in a Club Med or was this really Guinée? Unbelievable….it was obviously a different side of Guinee I had not seen yet.

Our hosts were a wealthy Lebanese couple who owned the island home (and had provided the 2 boats for the guests, all free of charge, may I add!). They were very welcoming and gracious hosts, providing a feast of Lebanese food for 40 people! Lively Arabic music filled the air and the women danced the sensual dances well known to the Middle East culture. It was fun to watch…and to try out! Belly dancing is more challenging than it appears! We sat around chatting with people from Lebanon, France, Sierra Leone and Ghana. A multicultural experience indeed!

We spent the majority of our time with our Canadian friend Colette and getting to know her more. We walked around the island only to discover a hotel and a nice, cozy, open air restaurant. Hey, we may eventually come here for a get away weekend…and at the reasonable price of $ 70 per day! What a nice surprise this was!

The rest of the afternoon, we lazed around, ate tasty food and swam around in the warm, clear water of this Guinean beach. It was good for the soul and the body! Heck it was good all around!

January had been so difficult for me on many levels. I worked many, many hours on school work, spending hours writing report cards and doing preparations for the next 9 weeks. To add to the stress of this, I felt sluggish and unhappy, yearning to be back in Canada to my comfortable lifestyle, my family and friends. I did not think that the January blues existed in Africa, but it looks like it does.

To add to the lethargy I felt, both Raymond and I had our dreams come crashing down! We had anticipated and were very hopeful of getting a Canadian teacher join us at the school at the beginning of January. Unfortunately, this dream fell through… we missed having this wonderful teacher join us at AISC. It was so disappointing for us that it took the wind out of our sails. Our little school needs new blood and young energetic teachers from North America seem to best fit the bill. It is very difficult to get qualified teachers to come to Africa and especially to our school which offers a meager salary.

The Sunday getaway was just what we needed to rebuild our energy. February promises to be interesting and fast-paced. Life is looking good!

A very special visit

One of the highlights of the Christmas season for me: meeting Olaf's parents, Teresa and Andre. This was a celebration of life!

Welcome back!

The holidays have come and gone. It was good for the soul, rejuvenating and exciting  to be in Vancouver for 3 weeks. Vancouver was magnificient with its blue skies, fresh clean air and  perfectly  kept streets and sidewalks. The snow capped mountains were crispy white and added to the breath-taking panorama. We live in a beautiful city ! Living in the West End was a new, invigorating experience for our family. We enjoyed walking everywhere and enjoyed exploring this part of town. The shops and restaurants were abundant and the original and at times eccentric people we saw added to the charm of living downtown.

     On New Year’s Eve as I watched the fireworks light up the Vancouver sky, I thought about my present situation.  I love Vancouver, it is beautiful and it is right. Conakry is right. Go figure ! Somehow these two living realities juxtaposed  made sense for me. Africa is right, feels right and is the place for me to be right now. It is not forever. I know I will come back to Vancouver eventually. I am just having an amazing and at times challenging African experience right now. Somehow I needed to make that clear for myself. During my first days back in my city, I was  tugged at the heart strings as I was plunged back into the reality of living in Vancouver. « Why am I living in Africa? » crept into my mind often. I was enjoying being with my kids, visiting with friends and enjoying the healthy nature walks. « Why not stay in Vancouver, it is much easier? » a little voice inside of me nudged.

     Life in Canada is good. Life is so easy. Life is organized.  The choices one has are so abundant that it can be mind blogging. I thoroughly enjoyed walking everywhere and not have to worry about stepping on garbage and razor blades or trip on a jagged sidewalk.  I had places to explore, unlimited window shopping  and wonderful friends to spend time with. Three highlights remain : 

New Year’s Eve was spent playing a fun board game called The Settlers of Catan with our children . We had a great time, laughing and teasing each other throughout the game. At the stroke of midnight, as the first fireworks shot through the sky, Raymond proudly announced : Victory ! and won the game. It was so funny and a propos that he won the game at that precise moment. I thought "this is a winning year for him" !

The second highlight of my Vancouver holiday was meeting with Olaf’s parents. Olaf is my good friend and my kidney recipient. We will always have a very special bond him and I, some connection that has no words to explain fully.  His parents recently immigrated to Vancouver from Poland. The rendez-vous had been set for meeting in a restaurant for a late lunch. I was  anticipating this meeting for a very long time, but as the days drew near, I was nervous. It was as if I was meeting my parents-in-law ! We arrived at the restaurant and Olaf, Kasia and their son Oli were seated at a long table. At the end of the table were Andre and Teresa. It took just a few seconds for Andre to pull me into a big bear hug and he managed to say « I am so happy to meet you finally »….. choking on his words. My heart was full and tears stung my eyes. Teresa was standing very close and she hugged me closely and said  through her tears…. « thank you for saving my son’s life ». By this time, we were all crying. It was a meeting of the hearts, of several hearts coming together, celebrating an amazing  event and overflowing with gratitude for  the gift of life, for the gift of all our lives. It has been four years since the transplant. I was really eager to meet Teresa and Andre in person as I thought about the grief they had experienced when Olaf’s health was rapidly deteriorating and the search for a kidney cross match seemed non-existent.  What an ordeal for a family ! I knew that the determination, the faith and the love they had for each other kept them going. I was enthralled to meet them ! I will never forget this moment.

The third highlight of my Vancouver holiday was meeting with the grade 5 students of my previous school in Port Coquitlam, Cedar Drive Elementary. The students were told that a special guest was coming to speak to their class.  The students were very excited as I walked in the classroom. « Mrs. M and M is our special guest !! » When the excitement settled, I showed my slide show of my school, AISC and my life in Africa. Then I spoke to them personally about their pen pals from my class and answered their numerous questions. Towards the end of my visit, I spoke to them about the orphanage, Espoir de Vie and explained how the  Christmas Toy Drive we organized overflowed  two  big boxes with toys and baby food. This brought joy to the babies and toddlers as they giggled and opened the gifts. I told the students that the Orphanage still needed help. Babies need new towels, pyjamas and clothes.  One girl piped up : « I could send my baby sister’s clothing when she grows out of them. » « What a great idea ! » I replied. Then others gave more ideas until a school wide Baby Drive seemed to be the project of choice. The teacher asked if shipping would be possible, to which I replied that it would be difficult but that I could come and collect the items during the summer holiday. The kids enthusiasm was palpable! The teacher’s eyes met mine and I spoke : « I am getting shivers here thinking that my students and your students will be helping the Orphanage…..this is a true humanitarian, across the world project. » I left Cedar Drive Elementary floating on a ribbon of joy and hope for the young people of today. 

  The youth of today understand at a deep  level the smallness of our planet, the global village concept is concrete to them and they seem to know instinctinvely how to help others in need. The world is theirs to discover and they see how we are all connected. Perhaps the internet, television and accessible travel has made this possible. There is hope for the future!