Parachutes and Mermaids... Dressing African Style

As a wonderful going away present for me, my office decided to buy me African clothing. We went to the huge Medina market (2 hours after a police shootout with a bunch of rioters... and we wondered why all the shops were closed!). We bought 2 kinds of fabric and then went to the Sierra Leonean tailor to point a pictures in a book of African dresses and say, "MAKE THIS."

He answered, "I can't do that. I don't have enough fabric." Irene, the beanpole IRC executive assistant, said, "Of course you have enough fabric!" And he said, "Well, maybe for you, but LOOK AT HER! SHE'S HUGE!!" I haven't had someone call me "HUGE!" since Japan, so this was a blow to my recovery process from my post-Japan BIG WHITE WHALE body image syndrome. But I will perservere.

The next day I sent the following message to Momma Klein and crew:

"WOOOOOOOWZERS people. I just went to the Sierra Leonean tailor to try on my African dresses that the IRC is buying for me for my going away present and I'm going to stop traffic in these things. No one in a 200 mile radius is going to be able to miss me. GEEEEEZ.

But Momma, Suzie and JB, you are going to love these dresses because they are beautifully obvoxious in the way that Klein women (except for me) love to be dressed.

Next step: African head scarf tying lessons. I must say that I believe that I should be skilled at this with my 6 months of Japanese kimono training."

I didn't end up getting to have head scarf tying lessons because Irene and Hannah both didn't really know how to do it (as is evidenced by the picture in red above with Soure, my favorite driver). Keep in mind that we had the tailor take this outfit in THREE TIMES because it was just so huge and parachutey (yes, that is a word). It's a bit better now, but still I think I'd be OK if I wanted to jump out of the plane to Paris!

The parachute dress is in complete contrast to the "mermaid" dress (as Kim Crawford, public affairs officer at the US Embassy labeled this lovely African style). Even after FOUR trips back to the tailor to say, "Look little buddy, I can't sit down in this thing!" I'm still having a bit of trouble with the skirt. Had major problems finding the happy medium with this tailor between parachute and mermaid. But they're still pretty and unique and African and FREE... so I can't complain too much, now can I?

The Arrival of my Beloved Harry :)

Today is a day that I've been waiting for for a long time: My copy of Harry Potter #7 made it to Guinea. I did a happy dance in my lounge at lunchtime when it arrived. YIPPEEEEEE!!! Now let's she how that African bush magic stands up to HARRY! :)

Goodbye Guinea! (yes, that exclamation point indicates excitment)

This Friday, August 10, 2007, I will be leaving Guinea. IRC asked me to stay longer, but it is time for me to go. I'm not learning as much anymore, my patience is waning, and I really do miss seeing my family and spending time with George.

George was sent away from Conakry on May 30th (two months earlier than his scheduled rotation time) to the US Embassy in Athens, Greece. I'm going from Conakry to Athens on Friday. Then I'll be in Athens for 2 weeks with George while he's working and then he has two weeks of vacation time (we hope). We're finally going to take a little trip together around a few Greek islands and also, a dip onto the coast of Turkey. Should be good and a wonderful change from Conakry, the ugliest city in West Africa (and that's SOME KINDA UGLY, trust me on this) ....

Then, I'll fly back to Henrietta, Texas on September 9th to see my family and be there for the big Clay County Pioneer Reunion and Rodeo and my 10 year high school class reunion. I'm planning on staying for a while in Texas (don't know how long yet).

And I don't know where I'll be going beyond that. Maybe home. Maybe Greece. Maybe DC. Maybe ?? Lots of things up in the air these days and I'm just trying to be flexible and figure things out step by step. I will of course keep everyone updated on where I end up.

I also am either going to change the name of this blog or create a new one. Haven't decided which yet. Will keep you updated on that too.

Flat Tires, Car Breakdowns, Patrick Dempsey, and other birthday presents for me!

Yesterday, July 25th was my 28th Birthday and, well, there's really nothing like visiting a refugee camp or two for your birthday. We set out to visit Kouankan Camp at 8:30AM and a hour and a half later, about 2 kilometers outside of a small village called Seredou, James the driver pulled over. I thought he was stopping for a "PEPE break" (yes, that is what they actually call it). But he got out and said that there was a problem with the tire. And we didn't have a jack or anything to use to change the tire. Fabulous.

So we sat out on the side of the dirt road for a while while James went on a tirade yelling about how driving the car to Seredou would ruin the tire (duh). No one really felt like answering in the radio in the office and I was just sitting there wondering why no one was walking to go bum a jack off someone.... It's just 2 kilometers, for goodness sakes.

So after about 20 minutes of yelling, I decided to calm them down and talk some sense into them... and James and Bobo (yes that is his name) finally took off walking to Seredou.

And I started wandering in the bush taking photos until my Sierra Leonean coworkers decided that the expat needed a lecture about tribal witchcraft in the Forest and how a snake was going to drop from the top of the trees to kill me (Talk about putting a damper on my explorer-tendencies.) So I bowed to their worries and stood by the car as they debated if a Catholic priest was doing a good or bad thing joining a tribal witchcraft cult in order to bond with the locals.

Eventually, a International Commission of the Red Cross (ICRC) car came up the road with James and Bobo. Rescued by the Red Cross. But that didn't mean we were off to Kouankan Camp. No, the spare had problems too so they decided that the best idea was driving back to Seredou to get the tire fixed before we ended up in a pickle again.

Getting the tire fixed took around 2 hours... so two hours of wandering around Seredou taking photos... which was a birthday present in itself. My co-workers were pretty pissy, but I always wanted to have a chance to stop in one of the villages that we zoom past on the way to the camps to take photos... and all it took was a flat tire.

So, at the time we were supposed to be back in N'Zerekore, we headed off again to Kouankan Camp. Meetings and such for a few hours and on the way back, we met Celestin, our chief driver, on a motorbike bringing us the jack... uhhh... a little late. So we started following him back to N'Zerekore.

...Until his motorbike quit in another little village along the highway which meant another hour or so taking photos in another little village on the highway.

We finally made it home at 7:15PM instead of 1PM, but, courtesy of the IRC's crappy cars, I got to be happy photographer for my birthday. Which was a present from the heavens. :) Along with the nice article about Patrick Dempsey that I found when I opened my magazine over my breakfast cereal. Dose of Dr. McDreamy over my morning coffee.... (sigh)....

A Refugee Church in the Kouankan Refugee Camp

Nun Fun and Playing French Colonialist

Last Friday afternoon after work when the generator was still off, I went for a walk around N'Zerekore... and I ran into Sylvan, a French peace corps volunteer working with fisheries, and Pierre, a French logistician from Doctors with Borders. And they invited me to go with them to:

1. Have lunch with 5 "Christian sisters" which I believe were nuns, but they said, "No, they are 'Christian sisters'" (anyone know the difference?) in a tiny village outside of N'Zerekore.
   
2. Stay the night in Seredou, a village near here, with a group of other French people...

... Sounded like a fun escape from N'Zerekore for a day or so and good French practice, so I agreed.

The nuns/Christian sisters were from Burkina Faso and France and the main course of the lunch was roasted green papaya casserole with fish in it. Interesting.... not as bad as it sounds...















And the house in Seredou ended up being a house from the French Colonial period on a mountainside with running water (from collected rainwater on the roof). Birds of Paradise flowers were growing around and gorgeous trees and plants... Birds chirping in the forest...peaceful and relaxing and quiet and -- for a Texan who still loves to see GREEN and not dead grass -- beautiful like something out of a movie.

And, since the group was all French people, we ate more cheese than I've had in a long time... Fondu, Crepes (see photo of goofy Pierre making Buckwheat flour crepes from the Brittany region of France), and Pate and toast... and even a bit of Champagne... sausages roasted on a fire in the huge fireplace... it was quite the spur-of-the-moment French weekend in the mountain forest. :)

Gazillions of Guinea Franc

Today I went to the Air France office to buy my plane ticket home from Guinea... in Guinea Franc cash from the IRC Finance Office. I knew it was going to be a mountain of cash, but oh my goodness. I had to take a bigger bag with me to get it all there.

Now, time for a guessing game: How much money do you think this is in US Dollars? Post your guess in the comments... will be like a jelly bean guessing contest.

Presidential Poligamy

Today I went downtown to buy my plane ticket home (Aug 10!) and was riding in the car with Abdulaye, my super-grouchy driver, when a truck with a bunch of guys with guns rounded the corner. Abdulaye pulled over and stopped. Then another car of guys in red berets (the scary Presidential Guard) rounded the corner.... Then a few more cars.... and then the procession ended.

And Abdulaye turned to me and said, "President du la Republic". Oops. I didn't notice the guy.

Abdulaye reported that he was on his way from Wife #2s house. She is the smaller one. Wife #1 is apparently fat. And I didn't understand what he was staying about Wife #3. But all of this wife business in the American context is pretty funny after the Clinton scandal... Boy, the press would have a field day Georgie Porgie was spotted leaving Wife #2's house... Family values....

Home Sweet Office (N'Zerekore Version)

So everywhere I go with the IRC, I live in the office. In Conakry, I live in the office with the country director and his wife. And in N'Zerekore, they shut down the guesthouse to cut overhead costs and turned what used to be half the office into the new office/guesthouse. And it actually was a very nice place to stay.

The first picture is of my bedroom, which used to be the Field Coordinator's office. The mosquito net is an absolute necessity in N'Z because there are lots and lots of buggies (especially in the rainy season).

The second picture is of my little living area with my table and couch. Very cosy I thought and some of the best lighting in N'Zerekore in my opinion.

And the last picture is of my kitchen, where Eduardo the mouse lives. He lives somewhere in the wall under the sink and I generally try to pretend that we are good neighbors and don't need to bother each other.

You should not be fooled by the hot water heater and sink into thinking that there is running water. They are the optimistc side of N'Zerekore house construction that hopes that someday there might be running water in the city. But until then, we'll keep our large trash cans in the kitchens and bathrooms for water. I fill up the sink with water from the trash cans to wash dishes. And the bleach bottle on the counter is to add to the water to kill all the buggies to clean my vegetables.

The things we eat in N'Zerekore...

So they say: Necessity is the mother of invention.

I needed to eat. I couldn't find much to eat in N'Zerekore, so I got inventive. This particular example is what this American ate for lunch on the 4th of July, 2007.

Avocados grow in abundance in N'Zerekore and cost about 20 cents each. So I cut one in half and stuffed it like a deviled egg full of canned corn, green olives, cucumbers, and covered the top in my imported ranch dressing that has made the long journey from the United Supermaket in Wichita Falls Texas all the way to the African Bush to give me a bit of American taste for the 4th of July.

And you eat it like a bowl of ice cream, scooping it out little by little... Sounds tasty, huh? :)

Scenic N'Zerekore :)

Here are a couple extra scenery pictures from my last trip to N'Zerekore in the Forest Region of Guinea on the border with Liberia and Cote d'Ivoire. The top one is taken from N'Zerekore town (yes, this is IN TOWN). The second one is from a road in N'Zerekore prefecture outside of town.

Muddy Me Chasing Chimpanzees

Everything always seems so innocent and fun when I agree to do it: The head chauffer in N'Zerekore was telling me about a place on Mount Nimba where you can go and hike and see the chimpanzees. I though, "Hey, sounds like one of the very few things that you can apparently do around N'Zerekore on a weekend." So didn't think too much about it and agreed to go.

He said it was 40 km from N'Zerekore. I thought that means about an hour or so. 2.5 hours later we arrived at the Bossou Chimpanzee Research Center. I paid my $10 entrance fee and then paid another $10 for my driver for security and translation reasons... and we walked outside to go see the chimps.

And of course, the sky opened up and it started POURING only as can happen in the African rain forest during the rainy season. The guide didn't mention anything about it and just took off walking into the bush. So we followed, practically running behind. About 5 minutes into it, as it was getting muddier and muddier on the side of the mountain, I started thinking that this was a very very baaaaaaaaaaaaaad idea. But I thought, "Hey, it can't be that far to see the chimpanzees and then go back."

Two hours of tromping around the mountain following the trail of the chimps, slipping in sliding down on my hips and butt through the mud only to stop myself by grabbing and holding onto hanging vines and branches, I told the driver, "Look. I don't care if I see the chimpanzees. I just want to make it out of here without breaking my body. If we aren't going in the direction of the car, stop and turn around."

They thought that was funny: Of course she's joking... she'd definitely like to have a broken leg in a place where there is no health care system for the sake of seeing chimpanzees. Definitely. And they just kept chasing down the chimps.

And I kept slip/sliding in the downpour and trying not to kill myself or them for the next hour or so until we got to a road. They said, "SHHHHHHHH! The chimps are going to cross the road now." So we waited. And waited. And waited. And I said, "Um. Excuse me. I paid for this little excursion and I'm calling BS on this whole thing. We're going to the car now."

I started walking. I got back to N'Zerekore that night and was talking to the other expats who comforted me with:

• "Oh yeah, the chimps were sitting outside the building when I was there." [shall I punch you now or later?]
  
• "We only hiked for around 45 minutes to see them. No big deal."
• "I remember that when Jessica (the only other American who has lived in N'Z in the past year or so) went, she hiked for 5 hours and didn't see the chimps."

So I've reached two possible conclusions on the experience:

1. The Chimps of N'Z are anti-American.
   
2. Or, as Sergeant Andres Rivero of the US Marine Corps detachment in the US Embassy Conakry pointed out: "Maybe the Chimps are just smart enough to get in out of the rain?"

About right.

Showertime

In Peru, I wrote a story about the process that I went through every time I tried to take a shower which included the possibility of electrocution and a toilet plunger, if that tells you about how interesting of an experience it was. And I have gotten more comments about that story (and the pumpkin pie story) than anything else I've written in a while. So I decided that I'd also tell the N'Zerekore version of how I manage to take a shower.

The process of my showertaking starts with William/Bill/Mustapha. He's the office cleaner who also cleans my "guesthouse" and who cannot make up his mind what his name is. He:

1. Goes to the logistics department and requests a car.
2. Loads up the large yellow 14 liter oil cans.
   
3. Goes to the International Committee for the Red Cross hand pump about 5 minutes driving down the road.
4. Waits in line for the local women, who cart their water off in cans on their heads.
5. When it's his turn, he starts pumping the water out of the ground. And continues doing that until he fills up the 14 liter oil cans.
6. Brings it back to the guesthouse and totes the gas cans into the bathroom.
7. Dumps them into the huge trash cans until they are full.

This is where I enter my shower taking experience. My shower starts in the kitchen, where I take my biggest pot and fill it up with water from the kitchen water trash can. I turn on the gas valve for the stove and light 'er up.

Then I boil... and boil... and boil... While I'm waiting on the boiling, I go to the bathroom to get the plastic bucket. I pour the boiling water into the bucket while attempting to not fog up my glasses (impossible) and carry the steaming bucket back to the bathroom. I tone down the steam with three more bucketfulls of William/Bill/Moustapha's bathroom trash can water.

Then, I start dumping. One cup over my head and wash my hair and wash it out with another cup... and so on until the bucket of water is gone. And believe it or not, it's actually a pretty refreshing shower.... Beats being stinky!!

Workaholic Therapy

Last weekend I had a mountain of work to do. If I had been anywhere else in the world but here I likely would have likely worked all weekend... but in N'Zerekore, work is limited to 8AM-1PM and 2 to 5PM on working days [Yes, the generator requires a lunch break. I don't really understand either.] and 7-11PM at night.

This schedule means that on weekends, there is only electricity to run the internet/ computer/ TV/ lights for 4 hours a day. So even if I wanted, I couldn't be a workaholic here... technologically impossible. Not that I'm complaining or anything...

I wonder though if Americans were forced to quit working at 5PM and do without internet connection and electricity for 20 hours of the day every weekend if we'd have stronger families and better parenting... more personal connections to other people with less TV, computers and internet... What difference it would make (aside from a clamorous uproar about the lack of electricity and internet and a massive increase in sales of personal generators)?

If I had my family here or George, we'd definitely be getting a lot more quality time together... as it is though, I'm just getting lots of time to sit around reading and thinking about random things like this email... :)

How does a chicken cross the road in N'Zerekore?

In most places in the world, walking down the middle of the road is not smart. In some places, it's suicidal. But, after much experimentation, I think I've discovered that the only generally safe place to walk on the roads in N'Zerekore is straight down the middle.

The roads here are about 85% dirt and 5% leftover pavement from sometime before the dinosaurs. With the shrinking number of NGOs/UN agencies here, the roads are now dominated by the only form of transport that locals can afford: moto-taxis... motorcycle drivers who pick up people along the sides of roads for a ride across town.

Motorcycles look for the smoothest space they can find to drive across, which does not include ridges of antiquated pavement... so basically, they drive in the dirt ditches along the sides of the road... which leaves the middle clear for walking. Makes sense, huh? :)

And of course, tomorrow walking down the middle of the road, I'm going to get mowed down by a car... yup... that'd be about right.

Stinky me...

Day #3 in N'Zerekore and I'm doing my best to pretend like I don't stink. But I do. But to take the optimistic outlook on this, atleast it's cooler now so I stink less than I did the last time I was here... I don't feel like I'm sleeping in a pool of my own sweat. That's an improvement...

Still no functioning stove despite the hours that dear incompetent Wilmott has put into fixing the thing. He just runs in circles... and talks in circles... poor little man is atleast trying, but I really would like to have a functioning stove... If nothing else so that I can heat up my bucket of water to take a shower with so that I don't feel quite so stinky...

Patience.... patience... patience...