Just call me Doolittle

 

Walking, singing and squawking with the animals has become my jam.  And, I’m pleased to report that it’s not just me who communes with mute beasts; some of my neighbors even carry on full conversations with their furry companions. 


I have 4 stories to share with you, which will hopefully illustrate just how close I’ve gotten with the Guinean fauna in the past months…

 

1: Almost every morning, I awake to the sound of billy goats goofing around outside my window.  This sounds, at first, like a nasty scuffle of sorts.  Then, you hear them grunt at each other.  I can find no other comparison except to say that it sounds like a couple of teenage boys got into a helium tank and went berserk.  It’s a lot of “Wooaah.” *scuffle scuffle*  “Woooaaaaaaahhhhh!  WooAAHH!” in comically high-pitched voices. 

It makes me laugh without fail.

 

2:  While in Labe last time, I was walking through the market trying to help Julie find some sunglasses.  A gigantic truck pulled up beside our sunglass hut and promptly began oozing a rather grotesque-looking dark liquid.  I turned away and busied my eyes with admiring the pretty indigo-dyed fabric to my left.  All of a sudden, I heard “Excusez!” and felt a thick, wet, slap against my arm.  I looked at Julie, who was standing stock-still and staring at me with eyes the size of dish plates, her hand covering her mouth.  I decided I’d have to look eventually, so I glanced quickly down and saw some red goop smeared on my forearm.  I wasn’t quite sure what had assaulted me, until I heard another labored “Excusez!” coming from behind me.  A short man, hunched under a humongous slab of meat, hurdled past me and disappeared into the market.

So now I can say I’ve been body-checked by half a cow.  How many people can say that?

3: I’ve taken upon myself the duty of re-organizing our Lycée’s resource room.  There is many a wondrous thing to be found in this room, including:

-          2 books on Spanish

-          A “German in your Pocket” manual

-          A boatload of mismatched English books (YAY!), copyrights dating from 1960 to 1999

-          Colored chalk!

-          Correspondence between past Lycée students in Ditinn and students in France

-          Pictures drawn by some random French students.  They’re cute.

-          A book of Edgar Allen Poe in French

-          2 books on “Getting to Know the Swiss”

-          A new species of rodent

If this is, indeed, an as yet undocumented species, I hereby claim official discoverer rights.  For now, it will be known as the Mouirrel.  Sounds like a mouse, poops (EVERYWHERE) like a mouse, but has the bushy tail of the good-old American Grey Squirrel.

National Geographic, I think you should send out your best photographer asap.

 

 

4: One of my students invited me to visit his village a few weeks ago.  It was a lovely time; we ate, we talked, we cracked peanuts, and we laughed at his infant cousin trying to eat a whole orange in one bite.  As I was preparing to leave, his mother came out of the house with an armfull of oranges, which she stuffed into my messenger bag.  She returned into the house to retrieve a whole bunch of bananas, which she also somehow managed to fit into my bag. 

Then she offered me peanuts.  I took them after a whole lot of :

"Non, non, c'est trop!"  No, no, it's just too much.

"Cadeau!"  Gift!

"Non, vous avais été trop gentille!"  No, you've been far too kind.

"Tiens!!"  Take them!

"Merci, mais, je ne pourrais pas les-apporter."  Thank you, but I can't possibly carry them.

"Mi okii, jiiwo!  Fii Allah, a naboraye ka suudu, nani?!"  I'm giving them to you, woman!  For the love of God, take them home, ya hear?!


So she put them into a bulging plastic sack and tied it to my shoulder strap.

After a profusion of thanks, I got on my bike and rode out of their family compound, thinking I'd finally made my escape.  Not two pushes of the pedal had passed before I heard "WAIT!!"  I stopped my bike and turned around to see my student, Alpha, running towards me with a live chicken in his hand.

I had to seriously fight the urge to flee right then and there. 

But Alpha told me, with a huge smile, this was a great honor to his family and they wanted me to have this chicken as a sign of gratitude.  So he tied the chicken's legs and slung it over my handlebars.

Friends, I rode 3km with a chicken swinging like a pendulum from my handlebars, legitimately glaring beams of hatred up at me with its beady eyes.

Everyone I passed stopped in their tracks and started laughing.  I admit, it must have been quite the spectacle.

I gave the chicken to my family, and am now pleased to report that he lived out the rest of his days roaming our compound and eating rice to his heart's content.

Ze END!