My real fake-husband

I have lots of fake fake-husbands, like the guys that  gave me kola in the restaurant, the chauffeurs who inform me that I’m their wife, etc…

But I only have one real fake-husband. His name is Alia and he’s 3 years old (he’s my neighbor). You could say I’m literally robbing the cradle – except that there are no cradles here. But that’s beside the point. It's somewhat of a cultural phenomenon that people say that very young children are their husbands or wives. Even during training, when I was out and about in the market with my little host brothers, if someone asked me to be their wife I could just tell them that I was already married...to the 5 year old next to me, and they would accept that. I suppose, stepping back and thinking about it, it is a little strange, but in fact it’s just another way that Guinean’s like to joke.

My interaction with kids is one of the things that keeps me sane. Rambunctious, dirty, moody, silly, completely self-unaware, children.  They’re just like children anywhere in the world, and that’s what makes them awesome;  their presence reminds me that we’re all one and the same. And at the end of the day, it’s these kids that will run up to me and hug me on my way back from school, who always want to kick around a ball with me, or who just need someone to pick them up when they’re crying. And it’s the kids who can see past my white skin, who don’t think twice about the fact that I was born and raised in a place and a culture so different than their own. They don’t think of me as an outsider, but just one of their neighbors, their big sister, their teacher…or their wife.

The typical interaction between Alia and me:

Alia comes stomping into my house, wearing a shirt, shoes, but no pants.

Me: Alia, where are your pants (in Susu)?

Alia: At my house.

Me: What are your pants doing at your house?

Alia: …they’re playing.

Alia storms back out and that’s the end of that.

 

Mid-Service Crisis

With less than 10 months until my COS (close-of-service) date, I’m going through a bit of a crisis, namely…what on Earth am I going to do after the Peace Corps? This is a time when a lot of other PCVs from my stage are looking at jobs, taking the GRE, applying to grad schools, etc…

Before coming in to the Peace Corps I had pretty much everything planned out to go to medical school after my service. Just three weeks before coming to Guinea I took the MCAT and was able to check my scores online during training and was happy with them. However, petit à petit, I’ve been starting to consider other alternatives. I can’t quite pin down the reason for my change of heart, but I think it’s just a combination of the things I’ve seen and learned, about both myself and about medicine. It’s been difficult to admit to myself that the plan I’ve had since as long as I can remember might not be the best option for me. I haven’t yet completely ruled itout, but for the moment I’m starting to think about my other options.  The problem is that I have many varied interests that I don’t think can all be satisfied at the same time. To sum it up: Biology. Education. People. Culture. Africa. Health. Social justice. 

It’s both scary and exciting that I have no idea what I’ll be doing this time next year… Here are a few rough ideas that I've been toying with:

Short term ideas

-Extend my service in Guinea for a year (stay in my village, continue to teach)

-Do Peace Corps Response (6-12 months somewhere in Africa)

-Take advantage of my 1 year non-competitive status from PC and get a job with the US government (Peace Corps, USAID, CDC, Dep’t of Health, Dep’t of Education???)

-Find a short term contract doing something related to health or education with an NGO in a developing country

-Take the GRE to prepare for graduate school

Long term ideas

-Get a Masters in public health and work in some sort of international health field

-Get a PhD in vector biology, entomology, tropical diseases, bacteriology, microbiology or immunology and study infectious diseases, do field work, and become a professor

-Go to med school, work for Doctors Without Borders, Partners in Health, or other related org.

-Get certified as a teacher and teach high school biology

Thoughts, anyone?!?

Thanksgiving Year 2

This Thanksgiving I’m thankful for (in addition to the obligatoire friends and family): My Guinean host family who looks after me and enriches my Peace Corps experience in so many ways, my fellow PCVs who have become great friends, my students who are motivated and excited to learn, the kindness of strangers, Guinean hospitality, an abundant rainy season, not having scabies (like last year), and my petits who help me get water from the well, wash my clothes, kill giant spiders and do other assorted chores that make my life a million times easier.

PCVs from our region celebrated Thanksgiving in Conakry, continuing the traditions we started last year, like Stacey making a million pies. I’m thankful that we had: stoves, ovens, running water, electricity, butter, milk, apples etc…

Mary showing off the Turkey

The work of Stacey. Plus the 6 other pies...

Brittany was pretty excited about her grandmother's homemade cranberry sauce

Yummmm

Richard enjoying a heaping plate of Thanksgiving

Girls' Outdoor Leadership Conference

Fellow PCVs Sarah and Juliette and I have been planning to host a girls' leadership conference in Doucki, Guinea to teach girls leadership skills, environmental awareness and discuss women's issues in Guinea. This conference will give girls a chance to travel outside their village, meet girls from other regions and cultures, discuss women's issues, participate in team-building and leadership activities in one of Guinea's most interesting and treasured sites and motivate them to share their new knowledge and skills with their peers back in their villages. We wrote a Peace Corps Partnership grant and are now trying to raise money to host the conference. Please read our grant summary below and, if interested, go to the Peace Corps website and make a tax-deductible donation to our project.

Girls' Outdoor Leadership Conference

Peace Corps volunteers have a long tradition of organizing and running a regional Girls' Conference in Guinea. Today's societal role of women in Guinea is such that they have limited access to education and work opportunities. In this vein, this project seeks to fund a 3-day girls' Outdoor Leadership Conference at one of Guinea's natural geological sites.

Hosted by a renowned Guinean tour guide, the conference has three objectives for its participants: leadership development, environmental awareness and girls' empowerment. The guiding techniques focus strongly on listening skills, self-awareness, verbal communication, and goal-setting, all qualities of leadership that the Peace Corps wishes to encourage in female Guinean students. Girls will benefit from the direct interaction with nature through daily hikes, as well as discussions about Guinea's current environmental issues. Finally, they will engage in participatory sessions about women in Guinean society and develop personal strategies for promoting women's rights among peers.

Ten middle school-aged girls from various communities will be selected by Peace Corps volunteers for their demonstrated motivation in school and positive attitude.

The girls' respective communities will provide a small financial contribution for cost of participation. In addition, the guide's hiking complex, guide services, lodging and food will be discounted by 40% for the sake of this event. The funds from the PCPP will cover costs of transportation, the remaining venue fee, and training materials such as handouts and certificates for the participants.

A is for Afrique

Summer vacation is finally over. In one sense I’m excited to be back at school where I have a structured schedule and am constantly busy. I’m also excited for my second year of teaching, which will be completely different from my first year. For example, I’ll know that when it’s raining in the morning, all of my students will be late. I won’t be so surprised when the bats in the classroom ceiling fly out at me. I’ll know when my students are secretly trying to take pictures (with their cell phones) of me teaching to show their parents and friends later.

However, I also very much enjoyed my summer. Though it wasn’t very structured and certainly wasn’t busy, I did fill my time with, I think, worthwhile endeavors.

Planting moring seedlings in my village and painting a moringa mural at PCV Brittany's health center

Carte d’Afrique

With the help of two graduated high school students, Fatoumata and Sekou, I painted a map of Africa on one of the walls of our school. It was a fun and easy project and many other students passing the school, would stop by to paint a country. Unfortunately I didn't have the most up-to-date map, so we left Sudan as one for the time being.

Kanyi Donse Fanyi = Kindia’s good food

I attended a food security conference put on by other agroforestry volunteers in the basse cote. The conference was in Kindia, which is essentially the breadbasket of Guinea. They produce tons of fruits and vegetables and other products. During the training, which was held at a training center called Kanyi Donse Fanyi, we learned about nurseries, food drying techniques, jamming, and incorporating healthier foods into Guinean diets (beans, moringa, etc…). 

ABC

Every evening that I was in my village I would tutor the kids in my host family and neigbhors in reading and writing. The kids age from 6-15, some not in school, others in various grades of elementary school. What they all have in common is that they can’t read or write. During the summer we didn’t make enormous progress, but everyone can now recite the alphabet, write all the letters, recognize them, and sound out very simple words. I hope to continue during the school year if time permits. 

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Also, Happy Peanut Harvest!!!

 





L’excision: C’est un crime

My brother Issiaga often wears a shirt (one of ~3 that he owns) that says “ L’excision est un crime.” One day I asked him if he knew what his shirt said. He can’t read and no one had ever told him what it said, so no, he didn’t know. I told him what it said and he just kind of shrugged his shoulders and said OK.

Female excision rates in Guinea are disturbingly high, some of the highest in the world. At some point, probably due to international pressure, the government declared that it was illegal to do female excision. People continue to perform excision, but have become much more secretive about it. There has been some encouraging news that perhaps female excision to its fullest extent isn’t really being practiced, but instead they’re just ‘nicking’ the skin a bit to draw blood, as evidence of having gone through it, and practicing the other cultural traditions that go along with it (wearing a certain type of clothing, singing certain songs).

 Since being in Guinea I have not heard anyone speak about it nor have I head any reference to it. I have only ever broached the topic with two people. One was my host mother in Dubreka who said she wasn’t planning to do that to her daughters. The second is my host brother (technically cousin), Abou, at site who is my best friend/confident. Other than talking with these two people, the issue of excision has never come up, and, I was enjoying the “ignorance is bliss” way of life.

I found myself wholly unprepared for the first time since starting my service for the cultural shock I experienced tonight. My host aunt (Abou’s mom) came to our house from her village (two hours away) and brought her daughter (~8 years old) and two other girls around the same age. In itself this is not at all strange. My aunt and other villagers occasionally come to visit us and go to our market. I thought nothing of it.

Later that night Abou called me from Conakry, where he has been spending his summer vacation, to say hi. I told him that his mother and sister had come to our house. He asked if I could pass the phone to his mother so that he could say hi. When she handed the phone back to me, Abou asked me if I knew why they had come. "No," I told him. He asked if his mom had come with three young girls. “Yes,” I said. He paused and then very solemnly told me that it was to do the excision for the girls…I had absolutely nothing to say in response to that. After a few moments I asked where they would be doing it – traditional healer? Karamoko? No, he said they would be doing it chez nous. Abou, understanding the dangers and knowing my sentiments towards it, sincerely apologized and asked me to forgive them but to understand that it’s a part of their culture.

The girls in question were sitting on my front porch playing. Did they know or understand what they were about to undergo? I couldn’t look at them, or any of the girls in my family. I felt so many emotions at the same instant that I’m not sure I even know exactly which ones I felt except that I was utterly speechless and at the same time wanted to say so much - a feeling of helplessness.

I immediately called the only person I knew I could talk to about this, Fatime, a Terminale student who just got her BAC. I’ve been a mentor to her during the last year and I knew that she would be both willing to talk about such a taboo topic and understanding of my stance. I asked if I could come over to her house to talk to her about something. By this time it was dark out and so Issiaga had to accompany me to her house on the other side of town. When I arrived, her and her family were in the middle of praying on the front porch so I waited by the side of the house. After they were done Fatime introduced me to her family which I hadn’t met before and then brought two chairs out to the side of the house where we could talk in private. I explained everything that happened and before I finished the tears started to flow. I don’t know why I felt so overwhelmed, though it must have been the feelings of helplessness and anger that something so deplorable could happen at my house, and the fact that I couldn't express the way I felt.

Fatime listened carefully and shared her ideas about the cultural reasons for excision. If a girl doesn’t undergo excision, people will gossip about her and ruin her reputation, which could damage her chances of getting married and could also shame the family. Since it's an initiation, many girls actually look forward to it, and some families have celebrations to honor the girls who have recently gone through it. Fatime herself went through this initiation process, and even shared some personal details. In school, after the fact, she learned from her teachers that excision is not good.

We finished our discussion, I had let all the emotions (tears) out that I needed to. We came to the conclusion that there wasn’t anything I could do to stop the excision of these three girls, at least nothing culturally sensitive or appropriate. However, Fatime encouraged me to bring the subject up with people and even to do sensibilisations to inform people of the dangers. Fatime also helped me with some SuSu vocabulary so that I would be able to bring up the subject with my family and villagers which don’t speak French.

I just don’t know if I can look at the women in my household the same. I feel a sense of betrayal by my family, though completely unfounded since they had no idea that I would know or be affected by excision.

EPILOGUE

The day after I found about the girls coming to do the excision, I left my site to go to Conakry to attend the swearing-in of the newest education volunteers. I came back two days later, presumably after they had done the excision. The girls were wearing different clothing and had their hair wrapped up. I also heard them singing songs in the house during the evening. The girls were happy and pretty active, considering what I thought would have been a very painful experience. This, along with the fact that my family is very poor and probably can’t afford whatever tools are needed, makes me think that maybe, after all, they just went through the motions and didn’t actually do much in terms of excision. I can hope.

Chômeur

A few days ago one of my former 12^th grade students saw me in the market and said “Hi Madame Liz. Do you recognize me?” Of course I recognized him, though I told him that I barely recognized him considering he ditched the last few months of class. He asked if he could come to my house to speak with me about something. This is a student who was doing OK in class until the second semester when we started skipping and eventually disappeared altogether. I’m the professor principal of his class, meaning I was in charge of reporting grades for all his classes. He flunked all of them.

                Later that evening, as discussed, he came to my house. I asked him what had happened and he explained in great details the issues facing him and his family. Some time ago his father passed away, leaving him as the only male in the household, and thus expected to contribute an income for the family. This year his mother also became sick and the pressure to help the family become too much for him. He ended up leaving our village to help his cousin sell merchandise elsewhere. He wanted to continue going to school but didn’t think it was possible, which is how I think he ended up chez moi. I assured him that it was possible to go to school and work. He asked if I wouldn’t come to his house to speak with his mother, convince her of the importance of her son continuing school.

                Again, the next day he came to my house and asked if I could come and see his mother. We walked across town, about 20 minutes away into la brousse. We entered his house and he introduced me to his mother, who already knew me, or at least knew my Guinean name. The three of us sat down in their living room and I explained to his mother, part in SuSu, par in French, that it was really important for her son to continue, though he would have to repeat 12^th grade. His mother wholeheartedly agreed with me, but voiced her concern about their financial situation. I offered to pay his school fees, buy his notebooks and pens, and get him a new school uniform if he promised to come to school everyday. They both gratefully accepted.

                Afterwards I asked my student what had prompted him to seek me out. He said that he remembered that one of the first days he skipped class I had run into him on the street after school and asked him why he skipped. Apparently he had been taken aback by the fact that I noticed he wasn’t in class and that I cared enough to ask him about it.

Ko Tooli Ko Fouta

Welcome to the Fouta! I took my first real foray into the Fouta Djallon region of Guinea, also known as Middle Guinea. It’s famous for it’s mountains; some people say that the Fouta is the Switzerland of west Africa. It is home to the Peuhls who are traditionally cattle herders, evidenced by the cows seen all over the Fouta and even chilling in the middle of the road in Labe, their regional capital.

A few other volunteers and I went to a remote valley in the Fouta to go hiking in what is one of Guinea’s most beautiful areas, Doucki. Many years ago a Peace Corps volunteer in the area discovered a man named Hassan Bah who lived in the village at the top of the valley. Hassan hiked around with the volunteer showing him the area and as word spread of the beautiful waterfalls, rock formations, and woodlands, tourists started coming to discover the area for themselves.

We spent a day and a half hiking and I saw some of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen in my life. We took a 16 km hike down into the valley and back up through a waterfall on wooden ladders. We were very lucky as it was rainy season and thus there were waterfalls and streams aplenty yet it didn’t actually rain during the two days we were there. At one moment we were hiking down a waterfall practically inside the side of a mountain. I felt pretty hardcore…until I saw Guinean women hiking up the waterfall. Without shoes. With babies attached to their back. With buckets on their heads. All the trails we hiked exist not for tourist purposes, but because they’re routes that Guinean villagers use every day.

Here are some pictures, though they hardly capture the beauty:

Dalaba (on the way to Doucki)

Our living arrangements (bunk beds in a hut)

 Stunning views

waterfalls...and more waterfalls

 Jungle lagoon

Banana groves....and waterfalls

 Ladders...up the waterfalls

On top of the world

Training...encore

PST (pre-service-training)

I spent two more weeks with the G-22 education trainees that are almost finished with their 3 month training in Dubreka. While I was there they started practice school which is a 3 week simulation of what teaching in Guinea is like. Students sign up for summer courses and the trainees prepare lessons, teach them, test the students and grade papers. It was a trip down memory lane for us PCV trainers. It's amazing how much we've learned in one year. Many of the same students at this year's practice school were also there last year and remembered us PCVs, which is pretty incredible since we only taught them for 3 weeks. It's an exciting time for the stagiaires as it marks the end of training and it's the time when they're finally doing what they came here to do. Insh'allah they'll all be swearing-in next week in Conakry. 

While in Dubreka I also got to spend some time with my former host family. My family couldn't believe that I have less than a year left of my service and told me that when I left they would come to the airport with me to say goodbye. The thought of leaving this place behind nearly brought me to tears...ey Allah

Here are a few pics from my time in Dubreka:

 Bike ride with other PCV trainers

 One of Dubreka's ports

 PCV Christina and I under "the big tree"

 PCVs Christina, Sarah and I at the other port of Dubreka

 Prof. Dante teaching about redox reactions in practice school

Prof. Carlos teaching about equivalent resistance

Prof. Ben teaching about line segments

Eid and Entamoeba

Entamoeba

Teachers who have first hand experience in the subject they teach makes the learning experience much better for students. That's why, the great teacher I am, I went out and got amoebic dysentery (it's an intestinal parasite)- so that next year I'll really know what I'm talking about. Well, actually it was a lot less deliberate than that. The good news is that I'm better now, and the best news is that next year in 12th grade biology I'll have a lot more to say when we talk about Entamoeba histolytica, though I'll probably spare them (and you) the finer details [You're welcome]. Anyway, because of this maladie I had to go to Conakry and subsequently didn't have enough time to get back to my village before going to Dubreka for training :( At least I got to celebrate the last few days of Ramadan and Eid in my village...

Eid-al-Fitr

 The end-of-Ramadan celebration took place last week, after a month of not eating or drinking during the day. I would have liked to fast the whole month, but I decided not to fast while I was with my parents, which left only about 6 days left out of the month. It is an incredible and fulfilling feeling to fast, knowing that more than a billion people are experiencing the exact same thing along with you. After sundown during Ramadan we broke our fast with rice porridge and sweet rice, followed by...rice and sauce of course. My host family doesn't really have the means to do anything special like buy juice or fruits or other foods which other families eat to break their fast.

Thankfully I was healthy enough in the morning of the Eid to partake in one of the most amazing spectacles I've ever witnessed. My host family invited me to pray at the mosque with them...and the rest of the village. I donned a beautiful white lace headscarf from my host mother and walked 25 minutes to the largest mosque at the edge of the village. I joined thousands of other women and men there, all dressed in their finest robes and complets. The mosque only held a few hundred people, so the rest of us were in front, back, to the side, along the road and encircling the whole area. I took my shoes off and joined my neighbor on her praying mat along with the other women. I had no idea what I was doing so I just followed everyone else's suit. I didn't feel weird or imposing because many Guineans had invited me to go and they wanted me to be a part of their community. The rest of the day was spent getting sali ma foed by very well dressed children, who, in wishing you a bonne fete, want money or candy in return. I like to think of it as a Guinean version of Halloween meets Christmas. The family also cooked a small feast, which included a very small portion  of meat from the cow that our neighbors had slaughtered the day before.

Wishing everyone a Bonne Fete! Sali Ma Fo!  Eid Mubarak!

 

 

Vacances

After spending a week in Guinea, my parents and I went to Morocco, for a more..."normal" vacation. My dad says that if you want a luxury vacation, spend a week in Guinea and then go anywhere else in the world. And after a year in Guinea, you can imagine how low my standards have become. I thought Morocco was rather luxurious because you know, there were toilets (with toilet paper!), showers, electricity, paved roads, air conditioning and food that wasn't rice and sauce.

It felt a little weird to leave Guinea. Of course, as we boarded the plane from the tarmac it was pouring rain (Conakry gets more rain than anywhere else in west Africa during this time of year). It took a few days to get used to the dry heat of Morocco and the different atmosphere. It was strange to be a tourist and to see other tourists. I really wish I could speak Arabic, as that would have made the experience more fulfilling I think. At least in Guinea I've learned a few Arabic greetings and sayings that were mildly useful.

It was not as easy to strike up a conversation with Moroccans as it is with Guineans ( I think Guineans take the cake as the most easy going/approachable people on the planet). The Moroccan women seem to have a very different place in their culture than do men, and it was almost impossible to talk with them. And chatting up Moroccan men (as a woman) probably isn't seen as super kosher in their culture either. However, I did get to talking to a few Moroccans here and there to learn about what life is like there. I wanted to talk with people to learn about what everyday life is like - and I realized that my vacation in Morocco would have been very different had I not currently been a Peace Corps Volunteer. Speaking of which, two Moroccans I met, after chatting for a few minutes, asked me if I was a Peace Corps Volunteer, without me saying anything (!). I'm not sure what tipped them off, but something about Americans who can speak French who live in Africa and don't have electricity seemed to be all the information gathered to make that conclusion. One of them was a ceramics vendor who had learned his English from a Peace Corps volunteer back in the day and another one was a guy working in a restaurant who had lived near some volunteers in his village. I honestly can't say how proud I felt when these guys and other Moroccans knew about Peace Corps or had been influenced or taught by a Peace Corps Volunteer. Big up to Peace Corps Morocco!

When it was time to leave Morocco I'll admit I was a little sad to leave the running water and electricity behind. We arrived in Conakry in the middle of the night and my mom's flight back to the U.S. wasn't until later that day. We bummed around Conakry for awhile and then went back to the airport. I had to say goodbye to my mom at the outside gate because you're not allowed in if you don't have a flight. So, I gave my mom a huge hug goodbye and as she walked away the tears started welling up. Not even 5 seconds later a Guinean women standing across from me ordered me to come over to her. I walked over and she warmly took my hand and told me not to cry. She asked who I had just said goodbye to. I told her it was my mother whom I wouldn't see for another year. At this, she too started to cry and empathize, Ey Allah, ey Allah. She gave me a hug and continued to hold my hand. She asked all about me and what I was doing in Guinea and we continued to talk through our tears for a few minutes and then, after wishing me luck and du courage,  we parted ways. And then I remembered that this is why I love Guinea and that I wouldn't sacrifice the sincerity and gentleness of the Guinean people for any of those luxuries.

Yup, I could settle for this...and then my taxi got a flat tire on the way out of the airport.

Gotta love Guinea.

Here's a few pics from the trip:

Maman and me at the beach in Essaouira

Gettin' some lunch...at a restaurant!!! Oh the luxury

Valley in the high Atlas Mountains (not a good trip for people who get carsick...)

Waterfall in the Ourika Valley

Ait-Ben-Haddou

Berber nomads getting ready to trek into the Sahara

One of our Berber guides

Camel (Dromedary to be exact) trekking into the Saharan dunes

Visitors

My parents came to visit me for a week in my village to experience La Guinée for themselves. Words and pictures can't do it justice. There's no way to capture the smells, sounds and tastes without being here. Most of all, you can't capture the generosity, kindness, sincerity and openness of the Guinean people.

It was fantastic to see my parents, spend time with them and to share my Guinean life with them. They got to meet my host family in Dubreka and my host family in my village. They met my principal, other teachers, my students, my soccer players, the women in the women's group, and endless education and government officials in my village and regional capital.

We didn't start the trip out on the best foot, though. On our way to the Soumba waterfalls, where we had intended to stay the night, a flash-flood river had appeared in the dirt road. I thought maybe it was just a few inches deep and the car could pass, but we saw some villagers who, perhaps also thinking it was only a few inches deep, rolled up their pants and started crossing to find out that in the middle it was more than a meter deep. Welcome to the rainy season. At that point we didn't have enough time to get back to Conakry or go to my village so we went to the only other hotel nearby. I'll just say that between the lack of sheets and pillows, the mice, the bugs and the non-functioning bathroom we didn't get much sleep. Our taxi was late picking us up the next morning, but finally we made it out and were on our way to our village when all of the sudden, POPFPFFGH, one of our tires exploded in the middle of nowhere. Ce n'etait pas grave, there was a spare. However, the wrench could not be found anywhere. Our chauffeur flagged down a passing moto and went to the nearest village to find a wrench. Meanwhile, three fotés were standing alongside the road in the bush. A sight to behold! So much so that many people pulled over to the side of the road to see what our distress was. Some jumped out with their wrenches to see if they were the right size. Finally our chauffeur returned, thank goodness, but only to find that they had brought the wrong wrench. At this point there was quite a crowd and another taxi pulled over and the driver tried his wrench and miraculously it worked. So, 5 marriage proposals, 2 Camara-Sylla insults, many failed wrenches, and an hour and a half later we were back in business.

We arrived at my village in the late afternoon. My whole village knew we were arriving that day and many important people had congregated to welcome my parents but we were so delayed that everyone had gone home by the time we arrived. So the next morning they got together again at our local government office and had a welcome ceremony for my parents. Officials very proudly gave my parents a brief history of my village and the demography and geography, translated by our high school English teacher. Afterward two of my 12th grade students presented my parents gifts of handmade clothing from Guinean fabric. Afterwards they got a tour of the elementary, middle and high schools and a bit around my village.

Reunion at the airport

My parents enjoyed their first evening on the beach hanging out with other volunteers

We stopped in Dubreka to visit my host family from training

Across the generations and borders

Mama Africa meets Mama America. Elhadj meets my Dad

Part of my Dubreka family

We stopped at the training center to meet my host Dad who was working

And we also got to say hi to some of the new trainees :)

Welcome Ceremony

Guinean-Americans

The welcome reception

Important people

On a tour of the locals schools

Village host family

My neighbor, Issiaga

A trip to the tailor

We got some very fashionable clothes

Some of the important women in my life: my village host mom, my mom, and the president of the women's group

My host sister Bobo demonstrating how to make a fire in our kitchen

Host brothers and sisters outside the kitchen

After their trip to my village we went to Morocco and I spent 2 weeks of vacation there. More on that in a future post. Until then, Ooo-Ooo