Kushe, Bo-Town!

Kushe-o!

As I sit in an Internet café in Bo, drinking a beer and waiting on a pizza, it hardly seems like I’m in Africa. Then I glance outside and see all kinds of chickens and children and women in Africana selling all kinds of things from magi (Spices) to Rubba Fak (rubber bands) and realize that I’m further from home than I realize.

The Peace Corps does a great job of integrating us in slowly so that we don’t get overwhelmed.  The idea that we’re in Africa hasn’t quite hit me yet. Why that is still baffles me because in my day-to-day life, I am very much in Africa.

Every morning I wake up with a bucket bath, which is much more refreshing than it sounds. A cold shower was never something I enjoyed in the States but when it’s an average of 90 degrees every day, you start to warm up to the idea. Then on goes the long skirt, I grab bread and walk to school.

I’ve been told my walk is only about a mile, but it takes me about 25 minutes on average to walk there because I’ve gotten to know people along my route. There are the numerous numbers of schoolchildren who always grab your hand as you’re walking by. There are the men at the edge of my village who always correct my Krio (I go na skul) but always tell me I’m pretty to make up for it. There’s the very pregnant woman who gets very upset if I don’t call out to her in Mende, wishing her a good morning and countless other people. Sometimes the best comparison to Africa is that bar from Cheers, you know, where everybody knows your name? Every morning, “Konya! Konya! Konya!” (Konya is my Mende name)

Then school happens. We learn all kinds of wonderful things like how to have proper relations with members of the opposite sex, safe medical practice for when there’s no doctor, cross-cultural training and most of all- Language. Language, language, language. Language is the crux of the PC, the do or die of it all. If you can’t hack the language, you can’t make it through training. My Language teacher, Saio, is the best in the business, though. He’s ordinarily a teacher in Freetown and knows English inside and out, so he’s able to translate the Krio into my English Major-ese (“This is the present perfect tense”, “This is where the subject goes”, etc.)

My Host family is wonderful, but a bit confusing at times. I’m the only PCT in my villiage, so I’m sort of running the show. It’s nice and not nice at the same time. I’m definitely the celebrity and I love the warm welcome I come home to every day, but in exchange I have tons of grabbing hands pulling on my water bottle and my skirt and I’ve been felt up (I’m going to assume accidently) far more than once. My family doesn’t know much Krio at all and even less English, so we’re left with Mende, a tribal language that they’re DYING to teach me. The only word I’ve managed to pick up so far is gari, which means ‘sky’ (Which is GORGEOUS here).

Alas, alack, we had to come to the negative eventually. The food is most definitely not my favorite. I’ve been existing on bread and prayer really. I realized rather quickly that I’m not a huge Cassava Leaf fan and realized even quicker than that this could potentially be a problem, because it shows up every which way. I’ve been mostly compensating with water and a (hopefully) positive attitude. Dropping a few pounds most definitely couldn’t hurt.

The volunteers always end the day with something. We play soccer or Frisbee or do yoga or go for a hike, just something physical together. Cooping up 43 outdoorsy people inside all day makes them more than a little stir crazy. I’ve learned to live with constant sweating and not to worry so much about shaving my legs. The people here are so focused on important things like humor and character, you never feel self-conscious.

I’ve not fallen out of love with the volunteers in the slightest yet. It’s just been compounded by many more crazy happenings. From wild chases through the marketplace to extremely sweet descriptions in Krio, we all just become closer every day. So close that I wonder how we’re going to say goodbye to each other in a few months.

We hit the bars on the weekends and have shut them all down systematically. It’s a given that when our group gets there, we will blow the electricity and drink all the beer. More than one of us had turned to street moonshine (which really just tastes like flavored vodka). We all love to dance and do it quite frequently. And we’re all more than just a little in love with each other.

I admit that I wasn’t sure what to expect, but every day has surpassed my expectations. I’m in love with this country, with its beautiful rolling hills and red dirt roads. I’m in love with the people and their crazy outpouring of love every day onto everything. It’s amazing how many people just care about us. I love the kids, with their eagerness to learn and work on new things and their readiness to help me with the language. I think it’s pretty clear that the volunteers all get along. Basically, it’s more than I ever could have hoped for.

America withdrawals happen occasionally, mostly at mealtimes or when someone brings up something like apple picking or going to the movies. But we’re learning to help each other through them and try and refocus ourselves on the task at hand.

I miss you all a ton. Thank you for all of your support and prayers and I’ll try and get back here sometime soon to post again (Let’s be real- I’ll be back for the pizza)

Wi go si bak!

(Krio for “I’ll see you later!”)