Last week Ramadan ended on the rainiest day I've seen so far in Guinea. The morning was overcast and calm until the wind kicked up, bringing in the kind of horizontal rain that makes you circle around the house double-checking that everything is closed and latched and that water is not streaming in under the doors. (Happily, my rooms stayed dry.) After awhile the wind tapered off but it rained steadily for most of the rest of the day, putting a damper on everyone's end-of-Ramadan festivities.
The next day people were out and about and making up for lost time, all dressed up and carefully skirting the pond-like puddles on their greeting rounds. The theme of the day seemed to be Small Children in Sunglasses, and it was adorable. Just on the streets right by my place I saw at least a couple dozen little kids in brand-new frilly dresses, little brightly striped t-shirts, fancy new sandals and neon sunglasses. (I really wanted to take pictures, but feel weirdly about taking photos of people I don't know. One of the big drawbacks to not living with a host family is not having a constant supply of people around who're more than happy to pose for the camera.)
It rained a lot yesterday, too, and I took some pictures of the street-turned-stream outside the Save the Children office, and also of the amazing complete double rainbow that followed. (It was a lot more impressive in real life, but you get the idea.)
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| This is why I brought rain boots to Guinea. |
The vendor lady is also nice, as are her kids, who very expectantly watched me leap over a decent-sized puddle and were impressed (and possibly disappointed) when I made it. She wears a black burqa-type veil, made of very thin fabric that she seems to be able to see through just fine. (I can't recall seeing any burqas in Senegal, but I see them here pretty frequently.) As someone who hasn't done much interacting with burqa-clad women, when I first went by her boutique I wasn't sure if I was supposed to look at her face-area while talking to her or what, but I think any awkwardness on my part probably blended in with the general awkwardness of being a foreigner who doesn't know where to find pasta or what that white powder is or how much anything costs. In any case, she seemed pretty relaxed about everything, and I go by there pretty regularly, partly because she's patient with my questions and partly because she always has fresh eggs. I've been by around prayer-time a few times and noticed that she just flips up her veil to do her ablutions there in front of her shop and doesn't seem to mind coming over to sell me some eggs and onions while bare-faced, which I found slightly surprising. I suppose I didn't expect her to be so laid-back about it, but then I'm the one who's not used to veils and washing up at prayer-time and running a little side-street boutique and all the rest.
Anyway, yesterday her shop was not totally surrounded by a rainwater moat, so I stopped and bought my bread and eggs and continued on my way. It's remarkable how quickly the earth soaks up the water - roads that are completely flooded can be partially clear after just a few hours, and dry up almost completely if the next day is a very sunny one. On the days when it isn't raining it's been really nice out, blue sky and extremely green grass and billowing clouds. Here's a recent sunny-day photo of the welcome sign on the main road not far from the Peace Corps office, the phone company Orange puts them up at the edges of cities and towns all over West Africa.
