Apres les elections...

It’s been a while since the last blog post.  I keep waiting for the elections to be over, so that I can write good news.  So, the elections were supposed to have been September 24^th; then they got moved to the 28^th.  The results are supposed to be out within 72 hours, according to the constitution.  It’s more than a week later and we’re still waiting.  

Waiting is boring.  It’s frustrating.  It’s stressful.  And it’s something that Guineans are much better at than I.  I’m starting to lose patience already, wondering if I should give up on this, move back to America.  But people here have been waiting for these elections for years.  All their frustrations with government are supposed to wait until there’s a legislature in place; the truth is, everyone knows that even this doesn’t mean an easy solution.  The government is deeply dysfunctional, and one round of elections won’t solve much.  It’s just a start.  

And so my neighbors are much better than I at keeping this in perspective: yes, they vote; yes, they follow the news; they care deeply about the results.  But in the mean time, they plant cold-season vegetable crops; harvest their potatoes and fonio; plan weddings; celebrate the births of new babies.  They talk about who’s sick with malaria and who has the wretched cold that’s going around.  They think about whether or not they can afford new school uniforms and notebooks and also new shoes for the little kids—it’s amazing how fast the little kids grow.  

So I’m trying to learn to just keep going, to let drop all the things that really do depend on elections, and stay focused on the things that keep going.  In lieu of election results, here’s the news: 

Tierno, Azizou and Salimatou’s youngest, has learned to crawl.  He and his mother went to Conakry a few weeks back to retrieve Habi, their oldest girl, from her summer vacation with relatives there.  While he was gone, he became mobile: not only does he scoot across the floor on all four with lightning speed, he also can pull himself up on furniture and cruise around the room on his own two feet, so long as he’s got something to hold onto.  With his new mobility comes new risks: he’s already got a good collection of bumps and scratches on his head.  

In Sebhory, Tierno Boubacar, the tailor whose workshop is next to Mariama’s house, has gotten married to Jarai, his sweetheart and former apprentice.  I arrived for the wedding on Thursday and managed to find three of the parties: I skipped the one in Pouké at the bride’s house, but still got to help out with some of the cooking in the courtyard of my old house.  Riz au graz Fouta-style is good: lots of cabbage, potatoes, and hibiscus leaves on top.  Alas, I left before the bride arrived, but on my way out of town, I saw the wedding procession: three cars filled with friends and family, horns blaring, weaving back and forth across the road, followed by a cloud of motorcycles.  My camera is still somewhere in Sebhory: I lent it to Tierno Boubacar to record the excitement.  Today he’ll bring it to market and we’ll transfer the pictures and video to a memory card.

Here in Dalaba, we’re still waiting for the triumphant return of the ice cream machine.  It’s been ailing for weeks now, and last week was sent off to Conakry for repairs.  Its much anticipated return has been leapfrogging the election results: first last Sunday, then Thursday, then today.  Still no sign of it.  Perhaps I’ll be able to track down the man who brings a cooler full of bright pink sherbert to market every once and a while.  

Tourist season should be starting, but, you know, elections.  Still, guests are making reservations for November, and the guides at ALDET are getting ready to receive visitors at the newly refurbished Case de Tourisme.  We’re slowly acquiring handmade local goods to sell, and the tree nursery is growing.  This last week we planted 30 avocado trees, a bunch of Moringa cuttings, and some more cuttings from ornamental flower bushes in the neighborhood.  In a few years, we will have the most gorgeous yard in all of the Tangama neighborhood— now we just need to find some more tree seeds.  Flowers alone are not enough to combat deforestation.  

School started last Thursday, which means people might actually start studying on Monday.  My favorite girl in the whole Fouta Djallon, Hassanatou, is starting first grade in Sebhory this year: her older sister Manimba is entering fifth grade at the Sebhory school, instead of returning to Pita where she studied last year.  Mama Jiwo, Ousoumani’s bride, is going into ninth grade (which makes her sound really young by American standards; she’s actually 17), but she’s supposed to start school in Conakry, and, you know, the elections.  

In the absence of other meaningful work, Christina and I did some cultural exchange yesterday: brought our hand-drawn board games to Kenny’s Fast Food, the open-air restaurant on the paved road.  We played Nine Men’s Morris and Volga Bulgars and Dalmation Pirates (also known as Fox and Geese) until we attracted attention from some of the regular customers: then we explained the rules, invited new players, and eventually turned over the game boards to the crowd.  Much fun: we found a young man who’s just as competitive as Christina about board games, and watched as he picked up the rules immediately and smashed the competition.  We sent him home with the games—they’re just done on flip chart paper and easy to remake.  Now I need to track down some other easily transferred games: Christina’s thinking about starting a club and tournament at the local middle school.