4:20- My alarm titled Inshallah (God willing in Arabic) lulls me awake from my Mefloquine dreams. They’re horrifying, vivid dreams with an example of one being where Alex, another PCV, and I are stoning people to death and feeling justified.
4:25- After lighting two candles I set the table. In actuality I place two coffee mugs with two spoons on the floor. I set up our thermos filled with tea, a can of condensed milk, sugar, and a French baguette next to the mugs.
4:30-N fa arrives with our meal of either rice porridge and curdled milk or meat and sweet potatoes. I prefer the rice porridge for two reasons: 1) because I don’t have to prepare it. 2) because my stash of Rolaids is running low and meat and potatoes that early in the morning is never a good idea.
5:00- The meal is over and N fa leaves to go back to sleep. Since my real dad engrained his superstitions of sitting straight up for proper digestion after eating, I follow his words of fatherly, comforting wisdom. I sit straight up and read the Bible.
6:00-9:00- food coma
9:00-10:00- Clean up: I take my dirty dishes to the well and wash them. I return from the well with my clean dish water and fill my watering can. I use it to water the sunflowers and sisal that I planted around my hut and N fa’s hut. I sweep my hut and organize for the day.
10:00-11:30- I either write letters, write in my journal en français, or work on sensibilisations for l’école primaire all while listening to BBC on my shortwave radio.
11 :45- Famoury comes by to escort me to my English class which I hold in Famoury’s hut where he has a big black board.
12 :00-14:30- I teach anywhere from 1-5 Guineans English. But I also use this time to practice my French by asking questions I have regarding the culture which usually gets really heated. Peace Corps Goal #3 executed : cultural exchange.
15 :00-16 :00-I’m starving and try to keep my mind busy by various activities like helping villagers chuck corn, sitting by the river, or visiting friends despite their mockery of my obvious struggles with fasting.
16 :30-18 :30- I cook meat and potatoes African style. Yes, I pride myself in that I can cook for my family of 10. I go to the market and buy the ingredients speaking in Malinke, I come back and cut the fresh beef with the help of my little sister Moseke. Since there are no cutting boards it’s necessary to have two people : one to hold while the other saws through spinal cord and stomach lining.
18 :40- take the 2 minute walk to the mosque and do the prayer to break the fast.
18 :50- run back, like all the other villagers, while gulping down on my ginger drink in a bag. N fa and I are head to head and he yells, « Fadima contre la moni » which means me against the corn porridge I have grown to love which is called moni.
19:20- If I manage to finish the moni I yell out to N fa, “J’ai gagne!-I won” or if my stomach hurts I admit defeat. I walk with N na to the mosque for prayer.
19:30-20:10- prayer/work-out. As I reflect on the day and pray for forgiveness I am sweating bullets. I get light headed from all the bowing, up, down, up, down. I mumble the little Arabic n fa taught me and try to focus on its’ meaning. I forget about the stifling heat and mosquitoes feasting on my ankles and cherish the one time I am regarded as the same as everyone else.
20:30- N fa and I go to our café where we sit every night. N fa’s best friend owns the shop and never charges us for the tea we drink or for charging our cell phones. It’s always a good time of making fun of each other.
22:30-N fa and I are back in my hut ready to eat again. It’s always rice and sauce. We switch from listening to the local radio station to my BBC. But we always interpret what the news is saying to each other. We love talking about Barack Obama.
23:00-24:00- Finally, reading time. I love reading. I allow myself to read before bed and only during that time. It’s so easy to get caught up in a good book but I don’t want to look back on my service and remember my favorite passages from books. I want to be the storyteller.
4:25- After lighting two candles I set the table. In actuality I place two coffee mugs with two spoons on the floor. I set up our thermos filled with tea, a can of condensed milk, sugar, and a French baguette next to the mugs.
4:30-N fa arrives with our meal of either rice porridge and curdled milk or meat and sweet potatoes. I prefer the rice porridge for two reasons: 1) because I don’t have to prepare it. 2) because my stash of Rolaids is running low and meat and potatoes that early in the morning is never a good idea.
5:00- The meal is over and N fa leaves to go back to sleep. Since my real dad engrained his superstitions of sitting straight up for proper digestion after eating, I follow his words of fatherly, comforting wisdom. I sit straight up and read the Bible.
6:00-9:00- food coma
9:00-10:00- Clean up: I take my dirty dishes to the well and wash them. I return from the well with my clean dish water and fill my watering can. I use it to water the sunflowers and sisal that I planted around my hut and N fa’s hut. I sweep my hut and organize for the day.
10:00-11:30- I either write letters, write in my journal en français, or work on sensibilisations for l’école primaire all while listening to BBC on my shortwave radio.
11 :45- Famoury comes by to escort me to my English class which I hold in Famoury’s hut where he has a big black board.
12 :00-14:30- I teach anywhere from 1-5 Guineans English. But I also use this time to practice my French by asking questions I have regarding the culture which usually gets really heated. Peace Corps Goal #3 executed : cultural exchange.
15 :00-16 :00-I’m starving and try to keep my mind busy by various activities like helping villagers chuck corn, sitting by the river, or visiting friends despite their mockery of my obvious struggles with fasting.
16 :30-18 :30- I cook meat and potatoes African style. Yes, I pride myself in that I can cook for my family of 10. I go to the market and buy the ingredients speaking in Malinke, I come back and cut the fresh beef with the help of my little sister Moseke. Since there are no cutting boards it’s necessary to have two people : one to hold while the other saws through spinal cord and stomach lining.
18 :40- take the 2 minute walk to the mosque and do the prayer to break the fast.
18 :50- run back, like all the other villagers, while gulping down on my ginger drink in a bag. N fa and I are head to head and he yells, « Fadima contre la moni » which means me against the corn porridge I have grown to love which is called moni.
19:20- If I manage to finish the moni I yell out to N fa, “J’ai gagne!-I won” or if my stomach hurts I admit defeat. I walk with N na to the mosque for prayer.
19:30-20:10- prayer/work-out. As I reflect on the day and pray for forgiveness I am sweating bullets. I get light headed from all the bowing, up, down, up, down. I mumble the little Arabic n fa taught me and try to focus on its’ meaning. I forget about the stifling heat and mosquitoes feasting on my ankles and cherish the one time I am regarded as the same as everyone else.
20:30- N fa and I go to our café where we sit every night. N fa’s best friend owns the shop and never charges us for the tea we drink or for charging our cell phones. It’s always a good time of making fun of each other.
22:30-N fa and I are back in my hut ready to eat again. It’s always rice and sauce. We switch from listening to the local radio station to my BBC. But we always interpret what the news is saying to each other. We love talking about Barack Obama.
23:00-24:00- Finally, reading time. I love reading. I allow myself to read before bed and only during that time. It’s so easy to get caught up in a good book but I don’t want to look back on my service and remember my favorite passages from books. I want to be the storyteller.
2 comments:
Yeah!!!! I love when you post insights or stories about your life out there. I just love it when you post period. I miss you. Your schedule is hectic and I know that I would not be able to fast like that. I am so sorry about the mud wall falling on you. Though I feel bad for you in some of your stories and I wish I was there to give you a hug, I can not help but laugh. It just still boggles my mind that you are in Africa and your daily struggles are just so crazy that they are almost comedic. I just can't wait for you to come home for a bit so we can really talk and so that the boys can love on you. Ra Ra has turned into Zhara and Noah can find you in any family picture. I just don't know if he remembers that you are an actual real person. It will be interesting when he finally sees you in the flesh. Well, we love you and are constantly amazed by what you are doing.
Charm
If you get a chance, look at our blog, I posted of a pic of Noah holding onto the letter yousent him:)
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