Sunday is for football and spaghetti dinner...

Sunday is for football and spaghetti dinner... If it wasn’t for the many African masks and statues that decorate the living room, you wouldn’t even question whether or not you are in a regular American home enjoying football games on a lazy Sunday.

I am writing to on my new laptop in my country director’s house in our Peace Corps compound. Every Sunday he welcomes volunteers to come to watch football and have some traditional spaghetti meatball dinner. I downed two icy cold Heinekens, a huge bowl of spaghetti and some garlic breads, it was delicious.

Of course after spending 2 years in Africa , I drifted much away from American football, but much closer to the other football. I was busy copying his wide selection of African music onto my laptop. I don’t know what came over me; I am shifting away from no electronic traditional Peace Corps life, to bring back a laptop, several MP3 players, and even buying a cell phone when I got back in Guinea . All of which can be charged on a weekly basis at a family in my village. The laptops are more for education purposes to selected students. The cell phone? The house phone in Conakry is basically shot, and I am tired of people (Guineans and Americans alike) not being able to reach me while I am out. Of course, now I have a cell phone, no one calls me. One interesting aspect of having a cell phone that I should point out is, here you buy a phone first, then you buy a number from a service provider, then you buy pre-paid card and enter the amount in your phone (kinda like using a calling card), when that amount runs out, you just add more money. They are smart, to make people keep buying new cards, they put an expiration date on each card (period as short as a week depending on the amount), and if a number is not used for a little too long, they will block the number. The only good thing is we don’t pay anything to receive calls. Now I don’t have any service whatsoever in my village, but there is a spot about, oh, 20km or more away where there reception. I hear that people go there sometimes to make calls. So, I am obliged to buy a whole bunch of cards to take back to my village and bike out to this special spot on a regular basis to recharge my number, avoid having it blocked. Yes, I wonder if I made a bad decision buying this stupid phone.

The humid weather in Conakry is just as suffocating as I remembered; it hits you especially bad when you just stepped out of the airplane after being in temperature controlled cabine for several hours. Most things don’t surprise me anymore about this part of the world, but I was still a little startled to see people who have connections came all the way onto the runaway to pick up passengers. Everything made through in my bags except a cd walkman, but that is really small casualty and I am not complaining. I manage to not pay (bribe) the airport staff to leave the airport. They just blatantly ask you if you have something to give them, and I just always smile and say that I don’t. Be sweet and firm all at the same time. Just like how I turn down the many marriage proposals that I get. And they don’t ask no more. Of course I wonder if tourism really takes off here, they might not let foreigners off so easily. Most foreigners that come through here work to help in some way.

Being thousands of miles away from families and friends, not so easy to communicate is depressing and compounded by having only one other volunteer here in Conakry, where before we would easily have 10 or more. Rob is the youngest of my group, and I am the oldest, with a difference of 10 years. We are the 2 of our group who are back. One thing with Peace Corps volunteers, after awhile 10 to 15 years of age difference isn’t much different than 2 or 3. Peace Corps experience matures people with an amazing speed. I think I would go crazy if I am in Conakry all by myself for a week.

It’s Ramadan, and getting ready made food is quite hard during the day. By sundown, there is hardly anyone on the street. Everyone scurries back home to eat and drink after starving all day. I feel bad cooking in the house, as the smell spills out to the courtyard and the guards know that I am eating during the day. I will fast when I get to my village, inch Allah.

So, I found out only 2 out of 45 graduating 10th graders at my middle school passed their national exam to get into high school. Usually it is 2 out of the whole class that don’t pass. They are being exceptionally strict on proctoring the exams this year, made cheating virtually impossible. Bravo! The new education minister is doing his job. The exam problems also strayed away from memorization type of questions. Of course it is not fair to test kids with questions that require them to think when the teaching method does not. While I only have about 50 incoming 7th graders compare to last year of 200 (again due to not being able to cheat), many upperclassmen have to repeat this year. It is causing quite a bit of logistic problems, resulting school not starting until October 23rd. I could’ve spent more time in the States, but I was definitely getting to a point that I was anxious to get back to work and tired of living off my parents.

I am not going back to my village until Friday because I am waiting for monthly Peace Corps rides upcountry, instead of cram into a crowded taxi with grumpy and tired passengers and driver due to Ramadan.