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.