Noise

There are more mosquitoes here than there were where I lived in Senegal. There are so many mosquitoes here that if I wake just before dawn I can hear the shrill drone of their collective whine through the closed (but admittedly drafty) glass of my bedroom window. (Some of that high-pitched din is surely from gnats and other insects; in any case, the overall effect sets my teeth on edge.) Sounds travels well though my rooms here, with their big white floor-tiles and painted cement walls - sometimes I wonder if all those hard surfaces amplify sounds, making a small cloud of bugs sound like an insect battalion. (Is that really how you spell battalion? Apparently so.) Mosquitoes may be the source of one of my least favorite elements of the soundscape here, but it's mercifully easy to drown out their noise, even with the tinny little built-in speaker on my iPod. 

The generators are a different story. Generators are loud. And big generators are really loud. If you're in the vicinity of a decently sized generator (and don't have the benefit of one of those little generator-houses that some people have built) the racket of the pistons (or whatever's spinning around in there) can echo in your ears long after the motor shuts down. The office here has a solar panel and a pretty reliable battery bank, and while that lights my life most evening and weekends, it isn't enough to support the internet router and computers and everything else that people plug in on any given workday. Gas is expensive, so the hours of generator use are restricted - approximately 10:00 AM to 1:00 PM and then 3:00 PM to 5:00 PM on weekdays when there are enough people in to justify the fuel use. 

The generator that was running today. 

As unpleasant as it is, it does make a person more aware of the value of electricity, which seems like a good thing. Like visiting a slaughterhouse, it might not turn you into a vegetarian, but it puts you in directs contact with the sometimes unpalatable origins of your lunch. It makes a person consider if what they want to do is really worth all the effort and noise and the cost of the gas - and even though most of the time they might decide it is worth it, (especially if they have the means to buy the gas and build a generator-house to muffle the noise) it seems like it's better  to consider it for a minute than to just flat-out take it for granted. (That seems like the kind of thing that builds character.) 

The other generator. I shudder to think
 of them both running at once. 

Not that I don't miss power plant-supplied electricity, which I suppose is far cleaner and more efficient, but I can't make the generator go away, so I'll take silver linings where I can get them. 

Fancytown

Having spent the last couple years carrying water on my head and sleeping in a little mud hut, I had very limited expectations for my accommodations here in Guinea. I knew that even the capital city municipal electricity was erratic and unreliable and figured that running water and internet access would be just as scarce. I knew that the Save the Children (SC) office, like the Peace Corps office, was equipped with a generator and internet access, so I would be able to charge things and check e-mail at least while I was at work. Here's a view of the SC office buildings, plus the spare desk that I'll be using for the time being:

(I really can’t overemphasize how nice it is to have a desk with a chair of corresponding height. It's one of those things I never appreciated until I couldn't have it any more.) 

SC arranged for my housing, and upon arriving at chez moi I found that I had two furnished rooms and a bathroom, plus a little hallway. The bathroom has running water and the bedroom and other room boast solar-powered lights and outlets, complete with some sort of battery system so that they work in the evening, too. Fancytown. 

I've set up the other room as a kitchen/yoga room, and (other than discovering that the walls are painted cement and so it's nearly impossible to stick up pictures and things) so far I'm quite pleased.

 Before I arrived someone had given the bathroom a once-over, but it was badly in need of a serious cleaning. I spent most of Saturday dusting and scraping and scrubbing and bleaching and rinsing and repeating - I'm not sure the photos here really capture the before-and-after, but in my eyes (and to my nose) it was pretty dramatic.

Aesthetically, I preferred my old white mosquito net to this green one, but I'll just have to make do. I've already picked up some new sheets, and am going to continue to use my suitcase to store my clothes - on of the lingering effects of hut life is that I am slightly neurotic about bugs and mice and really like to make sure that food is kept in sealed buckets, clothes and things are kept in zipped up tight, and that everything stays off the floor. In my hut I kept my trunks elevated on little oatmeal-can legs, and will probably do the same here. 

Oh, also I have a very nice bike, complete with a decent lock and a helmet, which has made market runs pretty easy. I'll still miss hot showers and refrigerators and washing machines, but all in all, they set me up with more creature comforts that I could have hoped for - the solar is particularly fantastic, because it's cleaner than gas-burning generators, and also because it turns out that generators like the one they use to power the lights and internet at work are loud and not super pleasant to be around.