Orange Dresses and Fancy Shampoo

When I left Kankan my friend Halimatou and her family gave me a party dress made of orange "wax" fabric printed with a money-and-squiggles pattern. I've been meaning to put it on and take some pictures so that I can send them some thank-you photos showing how well it fits and how much I enjoy the the shoulder ruffles. It turned out that Chelsea, one of the other PCVs in Conakry for Close-of-Service, also had an outfit that she wanted to document, so yesterday we got dressed up and took some Guinean-style glamour shots in the yard behind the Peace Corps office. (Except that we smiled a lot. Guineans often avoid smiling in photographs.) It was fun, and some of the pictures turned out pretty well, even though all the bright green foliage gave many of the poses a very I'm-trying-to-sell-you-some-fancy-hydrating-shampoo look to them.

Natural Essences for Natural Shine! 

Also, awhile back we were advised  to make a list of the things we like about living here (so that we don't just remember the rough parts) and also of the things that we dislike (lest nostalgia trick us into forgetting the rough parts). This is what I have so far:

Things I Will Not Miss 

Trash fires, really terrible roads, worse bush taxis, blatant and unapologetic sexism, inflexible gender roles, appalling homophobia, how people just toss trash on the floor, fetid sewage puddles when it rains, being caked in dust when it stops raining, terrible beer, animal cruelty, being called toubab/fote/chinois/la blanche/le blanc when I go out, being told that in America everyone is rich and perfect, being crammed two to a seat in cars, worrying that there will not be any competent doctors nearby if I get sick or injured, everything starting two hours late...

Things I Will Totally Miss 

How far out of their way total strangers will go just to help me out, occasionally seeing monkeys in the wild, neighbors who are totally happy to consider me part of the family, having same-name tokora friends, delighting people with my little bit of local language, super green hills, being able to plan my own day, being part of the PCV community, never worrying about who will pay for my medical care if I get sick or injured, having clothes tailored, good peanut sauce, shopping for fabric, people handing me babies, always being invited over for lunch, T9 texting (I am so good at it now), picking ripe mangoes right off the tree, speaking in PC jargon, different kinds of bananas, constantly being seeing new things, the little old ladies who spent 20 minutes helping me find a squash, really feeling great appreciation for vegetables, hot showers, fast internet and other luxuries...

Welcome to the Peace Corps Palace!

Christmas Stockings!

Tomorrow is Christmas Eve, and I will be celebrating with seven other Peace Corps Volunteers in Kankan. We're going to do a White Elephant-ish gift exchange, and cook a big dinner together, and lounge around and, electricity permitting, watch movies on the projector and listen to Christmas music.

As I type this Stacy and Carolina are decorating the Kankan house, and if it's anything like Halloween and Thanksgivukkah it should all turn out very festively. My contribution was making stockings for everyone out of fabric from the market and the edge of one of my nice white sheets. I was working on them out on my little patio area the other morning and a girl came over to watch me sew. After awhile she asked if I was making things for a dress and so I tried to explain about Americans and stockings and Christmas and, translated from the French, it went something like this:

"Well, so, in America when people celebrate Christmas they have these things. They are like socks but you don't wear them on your feet, like normal socks. People put them on the wall, near a little place for a fire if they have a little place for a fire. And then.... the story is that a big man comes in the night before Christmas and puts things in the sock things. Like oranges or candy. In the socks. Americans like it. You see?"

This explanation earned me a bemused smile, and she told me they looked very nice. (Once again, I strongly recommend this David Sedaris story about explaining Christmas in other countries.)

Sewing Time

They all turned out pretty well, I put everyone's names on them and am hopeful that come Christmas morning they'll be full of little bags of peanuts and green oranges and weird little candies and all the other things that qualify as stocking stuffers in Guinea. More photos to come, as internet permits.

In the meantime, I hope everyone's enjoying the holidays, where ever you happen to be. Merry Christmas!

UPDATE: Here's a photo courtesy of Michelle's iPhone:

Christmas in Kankan!

The Upside-Down Plastic Fruit Bouquet

This is a fake fruit arrangement that I bought on Halloween. They're popular home and office decorations here, and I love them. I'm not sure why, but I do, with almost the same inordinate intensity that I love True Stories and giant boxes of crayons and that 30 Rock episode with Thomas Jefferson.

There are many reasons to find them delightful - they're brightly colored, slightly absurd, and an interesting status symbol. Maybe something about that they're a tangible example of how there's a giant part of the world that doesn't even sort of care about American floral arrangement norms. Also, from a distance, they just look like normal fake flower arrangements; it's only when you get close that you realize that what looked to be red-and-yellow tulips were actually a bunch of inverted apples.

I've seen a variety of apples, mangoes, tangerines, bananas, chili peppers, pears, peaches, and lemons. The peaches were especially great because they were slightly fuzzy and laced with little hard plastic dewdrops. If the arrangements weren't so expensive (usually 30,000-70,000 Guinean francs/$4.50-$10.00 USD each, depending on how big, varied and elaborate) I would probably have a half-dozen by now.

Rain boots & Rainbows

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.)

This is why I brought rain boots to Guinea. 

After work I walked around the neighborhood, surveying the water levels and picking up things for this morning's breakfast. I tried to make it over to the Pulaar vendors who were so amused by my mediocre Pulaar the other day that they gave me a free loaf of fresh bread, but I didn't feel like wading so I settled for bread and eggs from the vendor lady just down the way.

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.