Weekend Before Labe

Sunday October 22

Last weekend was full of community building. I sat at the primary school for a whole morning waiting for the AED officer and then went to the mosque. And then last Sunday I invited myself to a funeral.

I had started doing my laundry bright and early but thankfully there was no water to finish rinsing my clothes. So I went to the town center to see if a cow was being butchered. No, but I learned that every man and woman were hiking over to the neighboring hillside to attend a funeral of an old wise man, a man who when he prayed God would listen. I hurried home, changed, grabbed a shawl and wrapped up my hair. I sat in the town center waiting to follow anyone who was going. A group of about 10 men led by the president of the village started on their way and I followed them for an hour until we reached the wise man's village. Hundreds had gathered, men separated from women. I was lost but went along shaking hands as all the others were doing. Thankfully a woman led me to one of the principal's wives who took care of me. My village was extremely pleased that I attended. I would never have learned about the funeral if the water had been running that day.

Last weekend was full of social interaction and community building. I felt like I wanted a vacation, so this weekend I went on 40 km bike rides getting prepared for my 60 km bike ride to Labe. Saturday I taught a class of 5 out of 40 students (everyone was skipping because Ramaden was soon to be over), having them solve word problems comparing the wage and cost of living between the US and Guinea, problems similar to the type we were doing in physics just with a different context. I think took off in the noon sun for a neighboring village, an hour and a half away.

I rested at the market before heading home and felt very self-conscious in my sweaty dirty pants and tank top. this is what peer pressure must feel like as I was surrounded by skirt wearing market ladies, explaining that I was a middle school teacher with the Peace Corps.

Today I washed dishes from last night's rice and peanut sauce dinner, talked a bit with a visitor who wants to practice English, made a bracelet, bought some eggplant and bananas at the tiny Sunday market, and then took off for a neighboring Peace Corps volunteer's village, about 20 km away. The hills are huge though and the sun is hot. I did a lot of bike pushing.

I hunt out for several hours and then headed home under ominous clouds. At the next village, 3 women pointed to the sky and beckoned me to come sit with them as a huge ball of lightening struck a tree 100 yards down the road, and the crack of thunder made us cover our ears.

It was already 15:30, 3 hours left of daylight and I had at least an hour left on my ride. I sat there and the women pointed to a bed inviting me to spend the night. I worried that my village would worry though.

Rain never lasts long during this time of the year and I was off again on the isolated rocky paths. There is adventure in having to survive on your own. If anything goes wrong, I have only myself, my will, my knowledge, my ingenuity to rely on. This is what is exciting. This is what makes me smile.

I arrived home safe with enough daylight to cook spaghetti, hopefully stronger for miles of hills to Labe.