Just when
you thought life in Guinea was getting boring…
About one
week ago, a large, white van parked itself in the middle of our town’s primary
school yard. Now, I realize this seems
extremely creepy at first read, but never fear – this story has a magical
ending.
Out of the white
van popped 5 spritely, dread-locked individuals and a humongous greyhound-like
mutt. The dread-locked individuals set up
camp, which consisted of unloading a hammock, cushy gym mats, an accordion, a unicycle, two thick straps designed for tightrope-walking practice, and a whole chest full of balls, frisbees, plates, diabolos, wooden blocks and bowling pins designed for various styles of juggling.
That's right, the circus had come to town.
Though I was shy at first, curiosity got the better of me, and I went over to the magical circus camp to introduce myself. Turns out, they were a group of friends from the south of France who had been spreading "les arts de cirque" all across West Africa. They left France, traversed Spain, ferried over to Morocco, and then drove their van all the way down the west coast of Africa. Guinea was pretty much their turning point, they told me. After about a week, they were going to head up and over to Mali, then back north to return home.
Their group consisted of a mountaineering guide, an agro-forestry worker, a nurse, a welder, and a woman who had turned after-school circus training into her career. They spent the next week teaching our town's primary and middle school kids how to juggle, do handstands, walk on the tightrope, and twirl the diabolo like pros. I've never seen the kids, both boys and girls alike, so excited about an activity. At times, the after school program turned rather chaotic, but to their credit, the French folks remained super calm and positive.
My site-mate and I had the pleasure of passing a few blissfully relaxed evenings with this lovely family circus, talking about politics and art, sharing travel stories, cooking delicious things that I haven't tasted in almost two years (LENTILS), and listening to live accordion music. If I closed my eyes, taking in all the sounds and smells, it felt like I'd been spirited away to some tranquil countryside region of southern France. Oh, man, was I ever happy for the mini-vacation that those few evening hours gave to me.
I had to remind myself that I have a contract to finish, and thus could not give up teaching to go join them along their journey. Bummer. Last Wednesday, they were off, headed towards Kankan and a whole new rung of hellishly intense heat. However brief our encounter was, I felt at home with these random and quirky free-spirits.
It's funny how one person's "crazy" can be another person's inspiration, as I witnessed in the circus's interactions with the children of Ditinn. The kids were forming human pyramids, balancing people on their forearms, cartwheeling and hand-standing all over the place. It was like a war-zone of would-be contortionists, I tell you. Girls who had never done a single sport in their lives were juggling pins with each other. Little boys were outshining the older kids who were so accustomed to bullying them (at one point, they all started an impromptu diabolo performance to show off when I arrived), and I saw some of the tres petits gain a huge boost of confidence simply by throwing frisbees and juggling balls around.
One night, one of the performers told me how they've done many tours of West Africa, and that they've checked up on previous acquaintances, many of whom have continued to develop the acrobatic skills even six years later. As one of the ladies said, "Maybe what we're doing isn't sustainable. Maybe it's too ephemeral. But what it comes down to is that we're able to share our joy with others, and we're able to inspire something new and life-giving by doing so." The same could be said of my work with the Peace Corps. I've come to accept that my projects might end when I leave, and that few people may remember me 10 years down the road. But I hope that for those few, deeper friendships that I have developed with certain people, this is just the beginning of an inspiring and life-giving bond. So, the circus folk and I fall into similar categories of "crazy," you might say, and I hope to have many more spontaneous and encouraging experiences like this one in the future.
Peace, love, and juggles,
K
