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!