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 :)

Time Warp

What’s that effect called, when you buy a green Subaru and then suddenly start seeing green Subarus everywhere? 

(You can substitute green Subaru for red convertible, pogo stick, shirt with a unicorn on it, orange cowboy hat, dangly feather earrings, a tattoo of John Lennon… whatever you like, really.)  

Anyhow, it happened recently to me with the Rocky Horror Picture Show.  On my most recent visit to Labe, a bunch of volunteers decided to watch a movie together because, well, most of us are going through cinematic withdrawal and want to watch all the movies ever when we’re in the presence of technology and stable electricity.  We chose the Rocky Horror Picture Show.

It was just as marvelous as when I first watched it when I was 15 years old.  Only now, I understand the innuendos and don’t wonder if all people from Transylvania are transsexual.  

Upon returning to site, I started reading “The Perks of Being a Wallflower,” in which Rocky Horror plays a fairly significant role.  Then I discovered, and promptly listened to in its entirety, the Rocky Horror soundtrack on my iPod.  

I’ve had “Toucha-toucha-toucha-touch me” stuck in my head for the past 4 days.  Help?

Currently the angelic warbles of Edith Piaf are doing their best to get me out of this Rocky rut.

It’s a hot, hot, hot Saturday in Ditinn.  All the laundry lines are laden with drying vestments, all the rice and sauces are simmering in the shade, and I’m enjoying some down-time.  Down-time from school?? You might be wondering.  Well, no.  Not exactly.  I’ve taught a total of 2 English classes since the “ouverture” of school on October 3^rd.  First, people thought school was delayed because of elections.  Then we learned this was misinformation, but by the time folks started coming to classes, the feast of Tabaski arrived.  To be exact: The feast of Tabaski (an international Muslim holiday, called many different things in different countries, but generally “eid al-adha”) was celebrated on October 15^th in Conakry (and, I would assume, the world over), but since our town had planned on celebrating on Wednesday, we canceled school on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday.  Thursday, it seems, was a day of recovery after fête-ing so hard.

But I haven’t let this delay drive me nuts (not yet)!  I’ve been teaching computer literacy to a group of students and a group of teachers for the past two weeks.  It’s been difficult and has left me feeling like a stuttering numbskull because you have to learn and master a whole new vocabulary to teach “l’informatique.”  Go figure.  My favorite term is “double-cliquer.”  My least favorite is “enregistrer” because the Guinean French “r” is trilled like an “r” in Spanish.  

Try it… /on-rreh-jee-strrey/.

This daily tongue-tying makes my fellow teachers chortle.  As with many mistakes that I make here, I’m thankful that this seems to be an endearing one.

In two weeks time, I’ll be traveling to Conakry to meet the other members of the Youth Entrepreneurship Training Council.  (I actually don’t know if they’re called a “council.”  This will hopefully be one of the many things I learn during our meeting.)  The volunteers who developed the program will soon be heading back to the States (in February), and it’s time to hand over the reigns.  I’m excited that I’ll get to help put on trainings for PCVs and Guineans who want to bring entrepreneurship classes to their schools and/or youth organizations!

Also, in a little over 1 month, we’ll be welcoming the next group of trainees to Guinea.  This realization makes me sort of feel like I’m living in a wormhole, as they’re portrayed in my favorite Jodie Foster movie, “Contact.” 

Everything is beautiful and scary and colorful and speeding by at a nauseating pace, but when I return home it will be like these past two years never happened for anyone but me.  And vice versa, as I recognize that you are experiencing a similar wormhole-esque journey, of which my understanding will be very limited in scope.

I’m done pelting you with whimsical (perhaps incomprehensible) talk of time.  Let’s just say this adventure feels like it’s speeding up every day.  In less than a year I’ll be seeing your lovely faces in person. 

Makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside, don’t it?

Do you remember, the 28th of September?

Allow me to commence with a brief anecdote from this morning...

I arose at 8:30am, after an unusually long night's rest, made breakfast (rice porridge and bananas), and then prepared various buckets, washboards and soaps to do laundry.

I exited my house, set down the buckets on the ground outside and was immediately greeted by a chorus of disapproving clucks and sighs. Looking up, I saw my host family neene shaking her head and chuckling to herself. I put on my best innocent foreigner face and asked meekly "Ca va?"

Matron Bingui dutifully set down her breakfast tea and bread, marched over to my porch and told me that there would be no laundry-doing or even body-washing today. Looking up at the sky, I expected to see the four horsemen of the apocalypse galloping down with umbrellas in hand because of the impending hurricane of cataclysmic proportions, but there was not a cloud to be seen.

So, I asked "Et... pourquoi?" Matron Bingui explained that a baby had been born in the wee hours of the morning today. Thinking that perhaps this was some sort of Ditinnois custom, I nodded and very sagely added "Oh." But friends, Matron Bingui was not finished. She continued to explain that upon exiting his mother's womb, the baby spoke, and thusly decreed that there should be no washing or pumping of water today.

. . .

 I have no analysis of the anecdote above because, in the event that this child is in fact a divine being, I don't wish to incur his wrath by questioning his very first proclamation. Furthermore, in the immortal words of Thumper, "If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say it at all."

Oh, I found out later that the baby wasn't born in Guinea, but in Cote d'Ivoire. The parents are somehow related to people in Ditinn, who are somehow related to people in a village about 100km away where two other volunteers reported being similarly forbidden from pumping water. News travels fast, but only between kin since apparently we were the only volunteers put under such H2O restrictions. Suffice it to say that this is perhaps the most bizarre story I have heard to date.


~                       ~                        ~                            ~                           ~


Friends, it's only been about a million and one years since I last posted a blog. I promise this won't become a regular occurrence. How can I promise such a thing? Well, because this blog post is comin' at you from the sunny, windy, and rain-sprinkly valley that yours truly calls home. That's right, kids. I'm interwebbing from the comfort of my own home (thank you, internet key)!


Remember how I was worried that summer would be boring? Ha! Let's run through the past 3 months...

July 4 - July 28: Helped out with Pre-Service Training for the new group of education volunteers.

August 12 - August 31: Taught a Youth Entrepreneurship Class for high school and college students who were spending their summer vacation in Ditinn. Also worked with Alimou on Ditinn's electrification project!

September 1 - September 3: Went to Conakry to buy laptops for our high school!

September 4 - September 18: Returned to PST to help out with Practice School, G24's swearing-in ceremony and subsequent installation.



For the past 4 days I've been familiarizing myself with the computers and with Windows 8...

Please help me, I seem to have become technologically inept.

Also finished illustrating the children's book I started a while back.   The title is "Finda and Djak Learn About Malaria."  Here's a little sampler...

My friend, Alpha, translated the French into Pular. Now all that's left is drawing, coloring and laminating!


* Fun fact: "lamination" is "plastification" in Guinean French. Makes sense, huh?



I understand that it's not the easiest to get news on Guinea, so let me give you a little update. Legislative elections were originally scheduled for early July, then they were postponed to September 24th to allow ample time for negotiation between the political party leaders. In my understanding, the main points of contention are whether or not to count votes cast by Guineans living abroad, and which organization will be charged with ultimately tallying the votes. Now, September 24th has come and gone, still no election. However, it seems that Guinea is getting closer to carrying them out in a fair and organized fashion. The U.N. has sent a representative to work with the major political leaders, and the general attitude (at least in Ditinn) seems to be becoming more and more positive towards the election process. Now the election is scheduled for September 28th.


(At the time of this posting, election day has passed uneventfully, barki Allah.)


But enough of elections! I have exactly 1 year left in my contract. 15 months have taught me many things, two of which I've been reflecting upon quite a bit lately: human touch and the art of talking to strangers.

Within the past 2 months, I started an e-mail exchange with a group of students at a school in Maine. Peace Corps has this nifty "World Wise School" program that connects currently serving volunteers with students in the U.S. Also got in touch with one of my professors from BC, who is running an awesome high school program that focuses on cultural awareness/global proficiency. So in an effort to introduce myself and share some important aspects of my service here, I've been writing, rewriting, deleting, and writing letters all over again.

Turns out that it's rather difficult to put this thing into words. Then again, maybe Mefloquine is just muddling my diction. (Kidding, Mom! Apart from the vivid dreams, Meflo has had minimal side effects.) One of the questions posed to me was about the invisible aspects of culture. Immediately, I thought about touch:

Upon my arrival in Guinea, the first cultural difference that really struck me was our perception of touch. The first few days in-country were a whirlwind, and before I knew it I was sitting alone in the dimly-lit salon of my host family, a steaming plate of rice and fish staring me in the face.

After evening prayer, my host father, mother and sister joined me for dinner. Within a couple of minutes my host brother, Ahmed, came home with his friend, Boubacar. They explained that they'd already eaten, and proceeded to sit down on the couch to watch the news (it was one of those rare evenings when the electricity was actually functioning for longer than 5 minutes!). After a while I looked over and noticed that Ahmed and Boubacar were holding hands. Now, if we see two teenage boys cuddling up next to each other in the U.S., we generally think that they're boyfriends, n'est-ce pas? However, homosexuality being illegal in Guinea, I knew this couldn't be the case. Since my French was nowhere near developed enough to allow me to pose a question tactfully, I decided to wait to ask about it later.

As training progressed, I noticed more and more hand-holding, cheek-kissing, and cuddling between men and women (most often same-sex, male-female hand holding was rare). I was introduced to the insanity that is a bush taxi ride, where you cram between 10 and 14 full-grown adults into a miniscule car and proceed to speed down unpaved and pothole-ridden roads. On such a ride, the majority of your time is spent in someone else's lap. At first, I was horrified. Everyone else in the car was perfectly content, to my surprise. Babies were often taken by strangers to make extra room for bags and buckets of food (sometimes a live chicken or two), arms were draped over arms, heads leaned against unfamiliar shoulders, and so on. It became clear very quickly that Guineans simply do not have the same concept of personal space that I do.

In our culture, where touch is often sexualized to an extreme, it seems that people often fear even the most accidental brushing of arms. I know that I've apologized for touching someone's hand in the checkout line at the grocery store, and I ask you, what on earth was I apologizing for? More often than not, touch in Guinea is something nice, warm, well-intentioned, and a pure and simple necessity when it comes to public transportation. It's taken a bit of getting used to, but I'm now comfortable walking hand-in-hand with my friends, my coworkers, and even my supervisor.

As for talking to strangers, well, I will confidently challenge most anyone back in the States to a stranger-conversation competition. Yes friends, talking to unfamiliar people no longer makes me break out in a cold sweat. Living in a place where everything is new and different has taught me how to craft a story out of nothing, how to be comfortable simply staring sometimes (mainly at children or the batty old lady who always asks me to cook ridiculous things for her), and how to inseminate a pregnant silence with a question that, with time, will give birth to a marvelously interesting dialogue (e.g. "Why do children fart?" or "How do sorcerers hypnotize people?" or "What if dogs could talk?"). Of course, sometimes my best efforts fall flat and I end up tongue-tied and blushing red from embarrassment, but thankfully these instances seem to be more endearing than not to my neighbors.


That's all for now, folks.



p.s. I'd like to take a moment to thank Matt, Claire G, Claire R, Dima and Michelle, Natalie, and my parents for sending me care packages and letters. I've written you all replies, but am never certain that they'll arrive in a timely fashion.


p.p.s. A big WELCOME to Alicia M and Travis B (sorry Alicia, it's a little belated for you), who have recently joined the Peace Corps family! They're in Namibia and Cameroon, respectively. If you know these two spectacular human beings from BC (or elsewhere I suppose, I just don't know how we could all be connected but that's neither here nor there), PLEASE send them some e-mail/handwritten letter/care package love! Though we may be hundreds or perhaps thousands of km away, I'm happy to be on the same side of the ocean with you two.

Guinea's Rumbly Tumbly

This time last year, I was on my way to knowing exactly what an oven-baked chicken feels like.  The blistering heat, the sensitive skin, the blistering heat, the constant fuss, the heat, the heat, the heat.

 

Thankfully, now that the fowl has been cooked and the oven turned off, the table has been set and I've been transformed into a lovely feast.

...Alright. 

 

I realize this metaphor is flawed and perhaps disturbing on a number of levels.  

You can't blame me for having food on the brain, however, since this post is coming at you from the profoundest depths of RAMADAN.  Your friend and humble narrator has been fasting along with a couple other volunteers and about 85% of the population of Guinea. 




It's day 15, and I have learned 5 very important things.

* To those of you who are familiar with fasting, please excuse my naivety. *

1. From before SUNRISE until SUNSET, No food + No water + No spit (depending on your particular religious views) + No alcohol + No smoking + No intimate relations with a non-spouse person = FASTING



2. All of the above + Just shy of the Equator heat = Le mois de Carem à la Guinée



3. There are a number of things I do not know about Ramadan, but in my limited understanding, this is a time to focus your thoughts and actions on God.  It's also a time to more deeply consider the struggles faced by those living in poverty everyday.  Pretty awesome idea.  Pretty difficult, but that's the point eh?



4. People here continue to play soccer and work in the fields all the live long day, all while fasting.  This has bumped them up from "hard worker" to "super human" status in my eyes.

5. There is very little more satisfying than breaking fast with a date, a handful of rice, and some hot corn-meal porridge.  It's really nice to "makefast" at pre-dawn and to "breakfast" in the evening amongst friends.



Guys, this is tough. 



While I made a valiant effort to forego both food and water for the first week, the fatigue broke me on the second week, and I've since used a couple of non-fasting days to replenish my strength. 


I want to hand it to experienced fasters, it takes a lot of finesse to find the right balance between...

(Kelsey's 1st week)

...and...

(Week 2)



My tummy has a lot of adjusting to do, but never fear,

I'm sure weeks 3 and 4 will run more smoothly.

Transitioning to non food related items...

*

*

Heh. 

*

Alright, for real now...

*

Okay, okay, seriously. 

*

I'm moving on.

*

BOOM!

*

That was the last one, I swear.

*

As you can see, food is becoming an obsession in our group. 

For the love of God, families, please stop sending your PCV "Bon Appetit" and "Gourmet" magazines.

It's just cruel.

*

*

Okay, I lied about the last picture, but LOOK at this thing. 

It's a work of art.

* Now, before viewing more, wipe the drool off your chin.  Then go visit http://foodporndaily.com . *

*

Food transition complete.

*

*

Training for G24 is well underway, and I couldn't have been happier to meet the new group of volunteers.  They're all math and science teachers, and will be heading out to their respective sites in September.  WOW.  Our G22 group has officially graduated from Sophomore to Junior Peace Corps Volunteer status. 

I'm heading back to site in a day or so, where I hope to begin a Youth Entrepreneurship class that will last the months of August and September.  In very much "blossoming and exciting ideas" news, I've begun working on a literacy and sensitization initiative catered to primary school students.  Yours truly and another woman in Ditinn will be working on a series of illustrated children's books, focusing on topics ranging from nutrition, to hygiene, to Malaria prevention, and gender equality.  The books will be written in French and Pular, and my hope is to distribute them to the primary school teachers in our prefecture.   I'll be sure to post some stories on here so you can browse at your leisure.




Also, before I forget, THANK YOU to those of you who have donated to our Learning and Information Technology Center project. 



There's only about $360 left to go! 



Every little bit counts, so if you know of anyone who might be interested in donating, please send along my contact information and the link to the donation page:

https://donate.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=donate.contribute.projDetail&projdesc=13-675-006



Also, since someone decided to change all the phone numbers in Guinea (Without telling me, mind you.  How daaaare they?), I haven't been able to reach y'all via Gmail chat. 



Here are the instructions for re-establishing our
precious,
          day-brightening and
                               indescribably meaningful
                                                                                                                                                 connection:

(Can you tell I miss talking with you guys?)

Text Kelsey for FREE from Gmail!

1. make a gmail account

2. go into SETTINGS (the flower/gear shaped thing in right corner),

3. then LABS

4. then enable SMS TEXTS

5. add Kelsey to your contacts, including her Guinean phone number +224 628 71 57 04

TO SEND A FREE MESSAGE TO HER PHONE: at the bottom left of your screen says CHAT and SMS.

Type in Kelsey's name in the search area, it will bring up her ...info and you can scroll across and select

"Send SMS" This will open up a chat screen and just type away!

Keep the messages short, otherwise they will not go through correctly.

They are free to receive, and cost only 100 GNF for her to reply. So start sending her messages!

Chez moi

Since many of you have asked me for either GPS coordinates or some  directions on how to Google Map my village, here you have it.


A little bit of Google and Paint can do wonderful things:

Summa Summa Summa Tiiime

Long ago, when your friend and humble narrator was just a wee lass, the prospect of summer brought with it a intoxicatingly sweet taste of freedom.

So intoxicating, in fact, that little Kelsey often lost focus in class and became even more scatter-brained than normal (Remember, Mom? Thanks for putting up with me!).

I'd forgotten just how overwhelming the approach of summer can be.


That is, until all of my students seemed to develop a very serious case of seasonal ADMAFLAYDUID.

Oh, sorry, in layman's terms that stands for...

Attention Deficit Miss Aicha, For the Love of Allah, You're Driving Us Insane Disorder.




Nothing is more ego-deflating than when your students find a piece of mouse poop on their desk to be more entertaining than you.  While all other classes had long since finished their coursework, I met with Terminale students right up until their national exams.  It was tantamount to an extra 30 days of torture for some. 

Then again, it was a necessary move, considering the national exams were moved up by a whole month.  Normally scheduled for late June/early July, the national Brevet was held May 27-June 1st, followed by the Baccalaureat June 6th-10th.  In order to allow the regional department of education ample time to prepare test sites and materials, this meant that all our grades and review sessions had to be launched into warp-speed so they could be finished by the first week of May.  In the midst of all this chaos however, both students and teachers maintained a surprisingly positive attitude.  I was slightly more frazzled, but then again, I'm the newbie. 

Here's a cartoon I doodled in my journal, which I think aptly captures my sentiments towards the end of April...

But hey!  They finished their exams and now we're all free for a few* blissful months!

* a few = June, July, August and September

What am I going to do with all the free time?

First things first, we're planning training sessions for the incoming stage.  My responsibilities include reworking the TEFL program into 9 sessions for our math and science teachers.  Since most everyone, regardless of their primary job description, winds up teaching English in some capacity at their site, we want to offer a basic introduction to language instruction and materials design.

Never thought I'd be doing this but, truth be told, I'm eating it up!




After training I'll be heading back to site for a few weeks and also training for the 1st Annual Tour de Fouta.


What's the Tour de Fouta?



Well, instead of France, we have the mountainous and beautiful and (partially) paved Fouta Jallon.


Instead of French, we have... okay, so that's the same.


Instead of Lance Armstrong, we have Geoff and Ben, and Carlos and Shane - our resident biking fiend duos.


Instead of steroids, we have Jus-Jus packets to add that extra little kick to our filtered and bleached well water.



While I will not be competing in the race from Mamou to Labe (some 144 km), I will be riding at a more leisurely pace with another volunteer throughout the 2 day tour.


Wish me luck!



Too late to 'polagize?

So, I’ve been a terrible blogger.

The first step towards recovery is admitting you have a problem, right?

Before you call off our friendship and close this window to go peruse stumbleupon or whatever new-fangled website they’ve come up with recently, let me share a story with you…

It begins in a quiet, picturesque village nestled in the heart of a fertile little valley.  National exams have just concluded and everyone is settling down to a much-deserved period of mental repose.  All except your friend and humble narrator.

Why, you ask?

Well…

BECAUSE OUR PROJECT GOT APPROVED, THAT’S WHY!!!!

The application has been sent, the forms have been signed, and the project is soon to be posted on the Peace Corps website.  We’re in need of about $1,800.00 to create a Learning and Information Technology Center, the goal of which is to provide a venue for computer literacy courses, and to allow students and teachers to access online learning resources.  

As things stand, our elementary and high school students have very few reading materials (and if they do, they were generally printed in the 1970s). Aside from helping educators inject some up-to-date classroom activities and literature, this will also give us a chance to connect students and teachers in Guinea with students and teachers in the ole U.S. of A.

If you’re reading this and thinking “Heck yeah!  How do I sign up??”, send me an e-mail!  

If you want to donate to the project, not only are you sure to earn some great karma points, but I will also personally write you an ode.

Seriously.  I’m getting pretty good at them.

In other “Life in Ditinn” news, Flo is a big, happy, and chub-ster again, thanks to the heaping bowls of rice my neighbor gives to her every day.  I’m going to have to up the mileage on our runs from now on, because right now she gets tired after running a couple circles around the cow in our compound (as opposed to her usual 12-20 laps).

All in all, life is going well.  The rains have set in once more, which reminds me of home.  Though generally, you don’t have sopping wet chickens blown into your living room when it storms in Tacoma.  Nor-Easters even pale in comparison to the intensity of these rains.  The other day while walking to school, I was caught in a storm (imagine, if you will, black apocalyptic-looking clouds appearing out of nowhere), and so was forced to run for shelter in a nearby “Credit Rural” building.  I spent the next half hour waiting for the rains to abate, in a dark room, sitting awkwardly across the desk from the manager as he filled out forms using a leaky pen and a sputtering flashlight beam.  I suppose that’s one nice thing about monsoons – they bring you into contact with folks with whom you’d otherwise have no real business interacting.  That, and they produce mangos the size of your face.

Note to the potential adventurer: Never eat an entire grafted mango before going on a 3.5 hour bike ride up mountains.  The idea of eating something that looks like a dinosaur egg is awesome.  Later feeling like a miniature velociraptor is going to rip its way out of your stomach is not.

Now that school has ended, I’ve been keeping myself busy with (you guessed it) home-improvement projects and in-service trainings.  On the home-improvement front, I have now successfully crafted a utensil-holder and a dog travel-crate, and I have also screwed innumerable screws in half and broken two hacksaws.  Guinea has apparently bequeathed me the strength and clumsiness of a she-hulk.  Go figure.


On the in-service trainings front, I just completed a 3-day conference called the Youth Entrepreneurs Training Program.  It was excellent, and I hope to begin offering courses this August!  The plan is to take on a student intern or two to help me run the LIT Center at our school.

As I write this (quite scattered) blogpost, I am sitting in a hot and humid office in Dubreka.  If you’ll recall, that’s where I spent the first 3 months of training.  Well, we’re getting ready to welcome the new group of education volunteers, due to arrive in July!  I’m psyched to begin training the language and technical teachers, and to help with organizing the new stage’s training schedule.  This also means that I will be around computers more frequently, and thus able to post blogs more than once every three months.

So, pretty please, don’t write me off as a complete blog failure yet.

Deal?

Peace and love,

K