Thank you

It's hard to explain how my visit home was. I haven't been back in almost 2 years. So much has changed while so little hasn't. The worlds are so different, the difference mainly being the pace of life. I was expecting to be overwhelmed by nice freeway overpasses, supermarkets, and options, options, options, but not by my family and friends. The minute Adam and I arrived at the airport to the minute we were dropped off was a blur of faces, smiles, and love.
We were pressed for time among our grad school interviews, reunions, and tours with visiting friends and family, but we were pushed along to see more faces. It was nice to finally show Adam about all the people I've only been able to tell him about, but I fear that I wasn't able to really show my appreciation for all that was done for us.
For all the time you took off work, studied for those exams a full week ahead, spent time preparing for another big bash, driving out to chez moi, chauffeuring us around LA, traveling on an airplane, and just being there. I thank you from the bottom of my heart. Your love sent through letters, emails, and care packages have gotten me through my service thus far, but seeing your faces and hearing your voices during my quick visit home, will speak to my heart forever.

A meeting with the village elders

6:45 a.m. on the dot. I hear the drums announce a meeting regarding my school renovation project. As I walk with my counterpart, the village griot, and his older brother, the chief of the village, I can't help but feel an air of importance. I am a foreigner and a woman about to enter the realm of male dominance. The hut I enter is the biggest hut I've ever been inside. And it needs to be to house 35 men, adorned in their grand bubus, islamic caps, shawls, and walking canes. Every piece of mud earth is hidden beneath cow hides and goat skin, giving off the scent of sweet death, which is alluring to the swarm of flies that bounce from our bare feet. As the men give their praises to Allah I notice that the men don't find the flies a nuissance as I do. I immediately feel insignificant among these men. Their faces and eyes, reminding me of dinosaurs, exude wisdom of lives that have seen and done so much. Even their weathered feet tell stories of their farming lives or their countless journeys in the bush. I am nothing.
I wonder if I should have worn a head wrap instead of a french braid, if my shirt's short sleeves are too revealing, or even if the pants I was told to change into are too informal. But my insecurities drown out in my counterpart's deep throated, "Namun" after each statement, signifying that the speaker was heard. I manage to keep up with the council's agenda, even exchanging a few benedictions to follow the formalities. After the last, "Amina" and all eyes have been averted to the next in the circle I don't feel insignificant anymore. I was invited after all.
This meeting was to discuss my work, but sitting here among the village elders made me realize this was more than that. This is the old meeting the new, tradition opening to change, the past allowing the present , fast-paced world to reside next door. I am proud of these men, the protectors of their village, for welcoming a stranger like me.

My saving grace

Since coming to Guinea about a year and a half ago I have been adopted by 3 families. My host family in training, my host family in the village, and the Nortons. All 3 families have done more than their share to make this low maintenance American happy, but only the Nortons can provide for me what I need most. An escape.
Well, they are really an answer to my prayers. The Norton family consists of Tim, Heidi, and their two kids Philip and Leslie. As Lutheran missionaries with ties to the Northwest it has been a blessing to share the commonalities of home as well as for our love for Christ. I kept trying to convince myself that my spiritual needs would be met from going to Friday prayer at my village's largest mosque, hoping the holy spirit would translate the Malinke and Arabic, but the Norton's services in English, French, and Malinke are much more inviting.
One of the biggest obstacles of my service has been language. In fact, the first 3 times I cried were due to my lack of understanding of local language. And even now with how far I've progressed, nothing can compare to letting out your frustrations in your mother tongue. The Nortons have become a sort of sounding board. And with their 10+ years of living and working in West Africa, their support through prayers, their advice from experience, and their comfort through cold water and food have been so helpful with my life au village.
I don't think I could ever muster up the energy to explain to a Guinean how homesick I feel sometimes, especially on American holidays and birthdays. But the Nortons understand; and more than the moist chocolate birthday cake with sprinkles, more than the three-legged races and bobbing for oranges, more than the guest room with a fan and water bed, it's this understanding that makes me remember that home is never far.

Live in the Present

Life au village is something very hard to describe to someone. But whether you live in a mud hut in an African village or in a studio apartment in Brooklyn, there will always be things that you find simply irresistible or downright sad. As I get closer to the end of my contract of being a Peace Corps volunteer, I find myself anxious to go home, especially since the mango season is ending and the mosquitoes and humidity are becoming more of a force to reckon with. But at the same time, I know that I must not forget the home I have established here, a home that I love and will always hold close deep in my heart. Because I know that when a rude driver, a forgotten smile, or another month’s rent triggers my memory, I will find myself wanting to go back home to Guinea. The following list is something I wrote to help me live in the present and to cherish the time I have left.

I know I complain about it now----------but I will miss…

a high carbohdrate diet that consists of mostly rice----------eating the most natural, non-hormone induced foods that are ridiculously inexpensive...

my neck and back aching, raw knuckles over using a washboard----------laundry day aka swimming with the kiddies in the Niger river...

not being able to eat a sweet and tart, crunchy apple----------mango season...

losing sleep and hair from taking malaria prophylaxis---------the most vivid dreams I've ever had. What? I don't have television or any means of watching the latest Harry Potter movie!

walking through my muddy village during the rainy season----------having the bullfrogs sing me lullabies until I fall asleep...

taking bush taxis anytime in fear of losing my life----------interacting with Guineans in the closest quarters. I've met some of my best friends from traveling.

Burning my hands as I eat rice and sauce with my family---------Eating communally, 10 to a big bowl and not caring about germs. This was a big step for me since I was obsessive compulsive and a microbiology major before coming to Guinea...

Being told in Malinke "May God make you big and fat" and "May God give you lots of breast milk" while being grabbed accordingly in either the gut or the breast ----------Having people wish that God grant me anything. Benedictions are a daily part of life here...

Staying out until 11 pm every night watching the news, drinking tea, and having my ears blown off by loud Guinean music or Akon----------Hanging out with my boys, N fa Mou and Monsieur Diallo...

Hearing "Hee-how" whenever I walk in a big city because everyone thinks I am Chinese---------Having so much attention. I'm like a celebrity...well more like a Disney Character...

Fearing that a donkey stampede might catch me off guard as I go around a hut----------my watch donkey. When I return home I always get a "hee-haw" greeting without fail. It always cracks me up, making me think of Donkey from Shrek. Wait does the donkey think I'm Chinese too?

Happy Father's Day!

I am so Daddy's little girl. When I think of my dad I think of two words...cool and reserved. He is a quiet man by nature, especially when there is talk about girl stuff. And there is always girl talk because he was the only man in a household of four women. I don't know how he did it:) But when there is a party, he is always the life of it. Yup, my dad is the coolest man I know, cool and reserved.
When his daughters need anything or are going through some hard times, this quiet man speaks up. And when dad says anything, we know it is serious. My sisters and I kind of freeze in awe, like "Whoa Dad said that," as if we were witnessing a historical moment. No further inquiry is made and the deal is sealed because Dad said so. My dad demands respect, and we give it with allegiance.
Having been away from home for over a year now I haven't been able to see my Dad. But I have been able to feel him and his sincere love for me. As many of you know, I am trying to renovate the school in my village. An email my dad wrote in behalf of my project somehow slipped past me and I haven't been able to thank him until now.

Dad, your unconditional love and support has made me the woman I am today. You are my rock and during my loneliest of times, like when I was traveling alone or when I was going through boy trouble, I felt safe. I never felt alone. I felt you protecting me and it was then I knew I didn't need anyone else. I love you dad. Happy Father's Day from the 2nd little Iggy.

School Renovation Project

This is the school I've been working at for the duration of my service.The bigger building was built during the French colonial period but it sadly looks in the same condition as the second building which was built a little over 10 years ago. There are only 5 classrooms for 6 grades. Just this morning, after I had a meeting with the Village Renovation commitee, I tripped over a pothole on the terrace. This place is so different than the last school I worked at in Valencia, Ca. It really breaks my heart that this is a school, but the teachers and students work with what they have.
Please if you are interested in helping out, check out this link: https://www.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=resources.donors.contribute.donatenow&
Scroll down on Guinea and you will find out how you can help.

To My #1 Fan

My mother is the most fun, caring, and crazy woman I know. Many of you know how hard it was for my mother to let me join the Peace Corps. In fact, I almost didn't get invited because of her passionate love for me. We fought, we cried, and we grew. Somehow we have become closer through all of this. She sends me tons of care packages, calls me every Saturday, and has given me the courage to fight through my fears. She is the reason why I am here.
Mom, I love you so much and I can only hope to be half the woman you are one day.
Happy Mother's Day!