HOLI

Today we were invited to celebrate Holi (pronounced holy), an Indian feast of life, to celebrate spring. One of our Indian families from our school invited us over to their home and promptly greeted us by patting our faces with brightly coloured powder, smiling and laughing and saying "Happy Holi". The feast is always held in early March around full moon and recognizes the season of spring. The Indian ancestors used to grind flowers and greet each other by putting flowers and flower powder on each guest's face. This afternoon was an afternoon of fun! The Indian family really got into this celebration and ...there were no rules! Water was sprayed and the colours soon became smeared! After we finished playing Holi, a banquet of Indian food was served. It was amazing, it was fun and I realized I hadn't laughed in a long time! Great way to spend a Sunday afternoon! (It was another story to wash this colour off....I had rainbow parts of my body!!)

The many faces of Guinee

It’s Saturday morning and I’m off with Bivan for a special treat….my treat to myself: a massage! It’s not just any massage though, it is a massage with Julia. I discovered Julia last May after asking around for a good massage therapist. She lives downtown in a run down apartment building on the 2^nd floor. Julia is Chinese and is learning English and French on the internet, by herself. She mixes both languages and at times must put in some Chinese because I haven’t got the foggiest idea what she is speaking. I love Julia. She is a healer of the body and the heart. Her aura is so positive and caring. One can’t help but feel good when around her. So I make it a point to see Julia as often as I can.

On my way to Julia’s, I watch life unfold Guinee-style. Since the car’s air conditioner broke down last fall, rolling down the windows is the only option left for air circulation. Having the window down makes me closer to people walking by and also to sellers who extend their arms begging me to buy their wares….anything from phone cards, to toilet paper to lemons. The bright yellow lemons bouncing in a small orange bag looked tempting but I declined. Traffic was inching along as we approached the bridge under construction. An old man cried out ”madame, madame.” I pretended not to hear but he persisted. I wish I could not understand French sometimes. He walked slowly towards our car, weary looking in a long black robe. He looked regal to me with his little round hat placed just so on his head. He folded his hands in prayer and said again ”madame, madame”. He was praying for, begging for money. I just shook my head no and turned the other way.

I wish I did not have to deal with this every day…the constant begging from children, adults and handicapped people. I don’t want to be hassled by people selling stuff or people begging for money. I’ve had enough of this. It just breaks my heart to have to say no or just look the other way. When I see the handicapped people rolling in old dilapidated wheel chairs or some walking with crutches and still others sliding on their bottoms legless, walking with their hands, my stomach churns. I can’t possibly GIVE to everyone that begs so I don’t. I still feel like a knife goes through my heart though. Why do I feel so guilty? To help numb my guilt, I raise the car window. It also does help dissipate the red dust from rolling in and does keep the sellers from sticking their hands and arms in the car. But mostly rolling up the car window helps me stay at an emotional distance from all the needy people on the street.

Traffic started moving again. Whew…I begin to feel the first waves of relief. I can breathe a little easier now and my guilt slowly dissipates. Moving along with the traffic means that beggars and sellers will not be able to “bug me” as we are actually driving now and not stopped dead in traffic. Good , this is better I think to myself. As we get closer to down town, the rackety Saturday hussle and bussle reaches me. I try to look with new eyes as I watch scenes of what has become so familiar to me. I choose to look with fresh eyes watching the brightly coloured dressed women sell dried fish. The large aluminum platters overflow with dried fish, their tails sticking in the air as if they have been caught doing a somersault. Funny I thought!

As we drove on, hundreds of women were sitting on small stools surrounded by baskets of fruits and vegetables. They lined the road as we were passing by. I love fresh vegetables and fruits but even more so when it is sold on the street or in markets. Something about being outdoors makes me feel like I am closer to the source where this juicy, fresh produce was born and harvested. Produce season is at its peak right now with sunny coloured mangos, papayas, pineapples, grapefruits and oranges. The bananas are available year round so I neglect to talk about these sweet, tasty nuggets. They are sitting in baskets sold in bunches of 15 -18, still attached to the huge stem, waiting to be bought by a hungry customer. A small girl is huddled in fetal position on the side of the road, fast asleep. I gasp! Just like that I think, just like that huddled in a ball where anyone could walk on her. She looks to be 6-7 years old and amidst the noise, dirt and commotion, she sleeps. I am in awe, amazed at the capacity of human beings to live in difficult situations. This is another face of Guinee.

After Julia’s massage, we drive back home and I decide to take Ismael’s picture in the carport of our apartment building. He is also one of the many faces of Guinee as he is a guard and helper of our building. When he smiles, his entire face lights up. When my girlfriends visited, back in August, they thought Ismael should be on the cover of Men’s Health; he is a real hunk and also very charming. So here’s to you girls and to all my blog followers…one of the many faces of Guinee…enjoy! ….by the way, he looks much better in person!

It takes a village.....

I’ve been living alone in Conakry for almost one week now as Raymond is in Vancouver and then on to San Francisco to meet and hopefully hire two new teachers. We will be losing our two American teachers and we need to replace them.  It is not easy to recruit teachers, let alone competent teachers who are interested and willing to come to Africa, and  not just Africa but Conakry. There is the “hardship posting” aspect of  Conakry also that  unnerves people.  What exactly is a hardship posting?  It is a location where expatriates will not find all the amenities that they are used to in their home countries, their support systems and their points of reference for every day living. You know the usual Starbucks, Walmarts, Canadian Tire, malls, cinemas and corner street diners. Life in developing countries is just not developed in the same way. What is a developing country anyways? We used to call countries like Guinee, poor countries, third world or underdeveloped countries. Now this is politically incorrect. We use the words “a developing nation or country”.

I’ve pondered these words lately….a developing country. Developing in what exactly? Is Guinee that underdeveloped? Guinee is struggling with economics, poverty, a failing school system, health and malnutrition of its population. Failing infrastructure  with adequate water supply, electricity ,very bad roads with huge potholes and a non existent sewage system are other important issues that this country faces. Extremely slow internet seems unimportant when people’s basic needs are not met, but that is another issue. I guess this is a pretty long list. So I look at this now and I wonder in which way is this country developing?  There is a huge bridge with several exits being built right now and this is giving employment to hundreds of Guineans and the progress of this ambitious project is remarkable. On a weekly basis, we see changes. It is very encouraging. More NGO’s are entering the country, apartment buildings are rising and changing the skyline of Conakry and several flights a week  from Air France are bringing in more expats to work in the mining sector. There is a housing shortage at the moment.  So it is a developing country when we consider the physical aspects. But what about emotional and social aspects? Is this country still developing?

My personal experience and observations of the last 2 years have taught me this. It takes a village to raise a child. It is an old saying which may have lost its charm but nowhere else does it make more sense than here in Africa. People take care of kids here. At church today, I was watching a little 2 year old child crying as his mother stepped outside with the hollering baby sibling in her arms. Right away, a man sitting beside the boy  sat closer to  him and patted him on the head, then a woman sitting in front turned around and picked up the boy and put him on her lap. The boy stopped crying immediately. It is not the first time that I have witnessed this. It is with adults as well; there is an understanding that you are all brothers and sisters here. People’s cars break down (and they break down very often because the cars are ratty and rusty) and others run out to push the vehicle off the road. Brotherhood seems very developed here. Compassion and regards for others seems very developed here. A woman I barely know invited me to her wedding next week. This is a celebration and people are invited to celebrate.

Expressing joy, sorrow and anger are also very developed. Dancing around the kitchen was our cleaning lady’s way to show her gratitude when we gave her a pay increase…her joy spilled over and she danced for joy literally!  When kids bump themselves at school, the teachers cuddle them instantly and say I’m sorry over and over until the child stops crying. When we gave the maintenance crew a bonus at Christmas, they bowed down to us. I get goose bumps as I write this. No one has ever bowed down to me. There is something of humanity touching humanity that is rich here.  Not afraid of showing compassion to your fellow man or woman is obvious here. There is something very tender that perhaps we need to develop in our western culture. These past 2 years, I feel I have been raised by a village, raised in a way that I have become more sensitive to the needs of others, more understanding of poverty, less judgmental towards a culture that is new to me and more transparent to the needs of those who suffer. It has taken a very big village to raise me, to transform me and for this I am grateful. Grateful for the experience of  awareness….

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.