Running Face First Into a Brick Wall

September 2nd, 2008 5:30 AM

As I’m lying naked under a pile of mud, bricks, and sheets of corrugated tin, I feel like Allah must be upset with me. He could be upset that I’m choosing to drink water during the month of Ramadan or He could be thinking I’ve sinned a lot this past year so the first day should start out in a manner such as this. I’ve been anxious and excited for the holy month of fasting to commence. Anxious because I know the challenges of fasting, but not to the extent of 30 days. Excited, for the opportunity to learn about a different religion through participation rather than from literature.
I’ve been preparing for today since I first got here by talking with n fa, asking Francophone villagers questions, and going to the mosque on Fridays. That’s why I wasn’t surprised to hear a knock on my door at 4:30 this morning. It was time to eat before the sun rose. N fa comes into my hut wearing a drenched raincoat, carrying our meal. The rain is pounding so we have to shut my door completely. I’m less than excited to eat the rice and sauce from the night before, only because the sauce leaves an oily film on my hand. However, I am appreciative of the warm meal in this gloomy weather.
N fa finishes before me as he always does meaning the water remaining in the wash bowl is not going to really help rid the oil from my right hand. So by ritual, rain or shine, I take the bowl out to my open air brick latrine area to wash my hands thoroughly with soap. However, today I opt to go outside wearing no clothes instead of putting on a raincoat. I wish I chose the latter.
But looking back I’m glad no one could hear my cries through the thunderous rain. Sure, wearing clothes would have protected me more from the damage, but bruises and cuts heal, and seeing a naked tubabu could mortify a Guinean for many years. I was shocked at my misfortunes. I could not believe that every volunteer’s nightmare of their latrine breaking while they are in it, just happened to me. Why did the wall have to collapse during the 20 second window I decided to go out there? To look on the brighter side at least I didn’t fall in it, it just fell on top of me.
But I was still scared because I couldn’t tell if I was bleeding from all the mud covering me. I grabbed the back of my head and felt a bump the size of a baseball. I also felt a bump on my forehead the size of a golf ball, but no skin broken. I was worried about my mud encrusted back which was sending off stinging sensations. After climbing out of the disaster zone, I manage to carefully wrap a towel around me and yell out of my hut for my counterpart. “N fa, pouvez vous m’aider!!! Je suis blessée!”
N fa runs over and tries to see if I have any major cuts. He tells me I have to bathe because the mud formed a thick cake on my back. He observes that there are some rocks cut into me. I feel a little relief crying while I bathe with my loofah and hibiclens antimicrobial wash. I scrub ferociously determined to not have to go to Conakry where our medical unit is located.
My one minute cry session of fear turns into chuckles of disbelief. Around 6:00 I am able to vent to Raven, another PCV. She somehow always calls when I need comforting in English. She is also fasting with her village and was only calling that early to wish me luck. We share laughter over how walls of houses or huts seem to be commonplace in Guinea during the rainy season. I ask her what she thinks Allah is trying to tell me. Her response is, “He’s trying to tell you to take the first day easy and to stay in bed.” I think He wants me to do that for the whole month!