All the... small things...

 Blink 182 has been stuck in my head for the past 4 hours.   

Malheureusement, my iPod battery is dead so I can’t listen to anything else, so here’s to another 4 hours of “SAY IT AIN’T SO, I WILL NOT GO, TURN THE LIGHTS OFF, CARRY ME HOME- NuhNA NuhNA NuhNA NuhNA NA NA” which is the only line I truly remember.

Heureusement, this also led to a new blogpost!

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The song took on a myriad of meanings while I was riding my bike this evening.  First, I was overwhelmed by the small flecks of dust and manure jovially jumping from the front wheel into my face.  Then, I almost crashed my bike into a cow because I was distracted by the small insects that somehow made it into my biking jersey and started biting my abdomen.  

But then small children, overjoyed by the presence of an unfamiliar porto (my reputation only extends about 3km outside of Ditinn), began waving frantically and jumping up and down by the side of the road.  This put a smile on my face, and the “small things” meditation took a definitively positive turn near the end of my ride. 

As I’m rounding the bend in my Peace Corps service (gotta love them cycling metaphors), it’s clearer just how influential all the small things in life have become.  I’ve sincerely come to appreciate how a smile can still touch people’s hearts  even when they possess no common language, how a simple compliment can go so far to boost someone’s confidence (especially when they’re hardly ever told that they’ve done something well), and how a small gift can turn your day around and make you forget for a second that you’re an unfamiliar and bizarre face in a foreign place.

I’d like to share with you some of the small things that have added a wholly unanticipated raw and vibrant quality to my life these past 17 months (in no particular order).

Being given a nickname, even if it’s as simple as “ma cherie” or “missy.”

Dancing with bobos (babies) in the middle of the town.

Finding carrots at weekly market. And maybe/maybe not (okay, definitely) squealing with delight.

Hearing your neighbor children narrate your every move as you get ready for school in the morning (sometimes it’s nice to be fascinating without trying).

Developing new skills (sewing, basic bike maintenance and repair, painting dried gourds...).

Still laughing at the ridiculous sounds that goats are capable of making.

Hot, freshly baked bread for breakfast.

The way the countryside makes your jaw drop no matter how many times you see it.

Making a complete fool of yourself by committing some cultural faux pas, but being able to laugh about it with everyone who saw.

When your neighbor sticks up for you when someone is giving you a hard time.

Fog covering the valley in the morning.

Phone calls and messages from people back home.

The nightly cow “harmonizing” that spans across the entire town as they make their way home.

Finding out your hardware boutique guy also sells honey.

Exploring the many footpaths that wind off into the wilderness, and sometimes discovering how they connect!

When an old woman selling bananas  cries out in joy when you respond to her in Pular.

Happening upon live music and dancing.

Successfully bartering for a piece of cloth.

Being able to make a joke in French.

Having a rough day, then calling another volunteer and hearing that they know exactly what you’re going through.

Finding a new swimming hole.

Being gifted candy wrappers by a small child (it’s like monopoly money).

Students approaching you with their own school-improvement initiatives.

Crunchy rice on the bottom of the pan.

Passing through a random village and seeing someone you know.

...Conversely, going to a big city and running into someone from your village.

Clear nights where the number of stars takes your breath away.

When a stranger tells you fondly of a Peace Corps teacher they had 20 years ago, and how they encouraged them to pursue their current career.

A gift of a sachet of frozen juice on market day.

Finally understanding a play on words in Pular.

Heating water for a bath.

Receiving  text messages in English from your former students.

Visiting a friend’s village.

Making students smile and loosen up in class (for example: after mimicking a shark, which is very hard to explain where there are no beaches and/or Steven Spielberg movie score to accompany you).

Daily coffee chats/awesome history lessons with Alpha.

When a complete stranger helps you fix a flat tire.

Discovering new delicacies (latest editions: Guinean toffee, peanuts like the ones in Cracker Jacks, and “melange,” a delicious tea/coffee mixture).

Reading books with little kids.

Just sitting down with students and talking about their aspirations; it turns out that there are some extremely genuine and kind-hearted future lawyers, doctors, journalists, and artists in my classes.

I’m thankful for all of these things and more, and honestly wish that you guys were here to see them.  Hey, I’ve still got 9 months left, so if any of you are itching to get your Guinea on...

Just let me know :)