Guinea: This is 'Africa'? and Reflections on the First Few Days

Uncertainty. Stupidity. Fear. These were the sentiments I felt as I was wrapping up a lovely 24 hour layover in Paris, en route to my new home for the next two months. 

Heading out to the airport.

 

A stop-over in Paris to see the Euro cup-decorated Eiffel Tower by day and by night. 

"The last meal" in a French cafe before heading out.

Generosity. Luxury. Ease. I was overcome by all three of these sentiments on my arrival to Conakry, Guinea, as my local hosts completely transformed my in-country arrival. 

My hotel.

The view from my hotel room.

Argh. Crap. No! These are just a few of the [more PG] thoughts that passed through my head as Hour 24 of my time in Guinea had approached and I'd realized my boxed electronics had been stolen out of my suitcase. 

Points for creativity to the person who jiggered
my zipper, made this hole, and took my
electronics out. 

Now, you have to understand that this was not how I intended to start my blog series for the summer, but the range of emotions I have experienced thus far reminded me of some past conversations about my travels. So many people ask me what "Africa" is like: Is it dangerous? Do you live in a house? What is the language and food like? My response is always the same: it depends. In just my first few days of this trip to my now 10th African country, I can unequivocally confirm that this diversity, this indescribable experience that words never seem to do justice to, this is "Africa." But I'm getting ahead of myself...

There were two days and counting until I arrived in Guinea, and truth be told, I was starting to get a little worried.

"Where are you staying?" My parents asked.

"Um...not sure yet...But I sent some emails and at least have a phone number of someone to call there!" I exclaimed.

"What will your project be?" A friend asked.

"Well...the idea is that..." I began to explain, realizing that I had no idea if things would really go as planned.

The more questions I was asked - simple questions that I wouldn't blink about answering if I were back in Boston - the more concerned I began to get. 

What did I get myself into this summer? 

Guinea from above.

Call it serendipity, luck, or a blessing, but when I think of my first few days in the country, there's no way I can deny that things have happened as they are supposed to. I wasn't bombarded with a disorganized, stereotypical "African" airport or trying to negotiate down a taxi price. I was, instead, greeted shortly up disembarking from the plane, treated like a VIP, and aided through the immigration process, which is usually the most stressful part of airport travel. I was guided to a driver sent specifically to meet me, and aided with my luggage without the expectation of pay. And, for those who know my curious nature, I was encouraged as I practiced my French and asked questions about the different neighborhoods of Conakry. To be honest, I was prepared to stay in a modest hotel for a few nights, in order to get my bearings and to find a place to live. Instead, through the generosity of others, a week-long stay in a breathtaking hotel was organized, allowing me to focus on my work rather than where I go from here.

Waiting for my luggage outside the airport.

I'm always a sucker for a bathrobe and slippers.

Course #2 (of 3) for my first meal in Conakry. Very unexpected.

And then, on Day 2 in Conakry, when I went to pull out my spare phone from my suitcase, I realized that it (along with my other high tech gear) was gone. I immediately panicked – maybe I’d just misplaced it somewhere – but eventually realized that somewhere between Paris and Conakry, a hole had craftily been made in my luggage. I was immediately struck by the contrast of the feelings of having and not having, comfort and struggle, safety and fear. 

But the amazing thing is that just hours later, I was again kindly treated. A new phone was purchased for me, I was taken around the city to run errands and see some apartments, and I was introduced to others in the field of public health who I can learn from during my time here. I was even invited to a colleague's home, treated to roasted meat and wine while attempting to crack jokes in my own version of French. 

Beef is roasted for a long time over the open flame.

It may not look like much but when mixed with spices, onions,
and a little mayonnaise, it was yummy!

Before I left, Dr. Farmer shared some advice with me about being flexible, which I'm still working on (and is perhaps the focus of another post). Today, I realize that perhaps the first lesson of my trip is genoristy because that is exactly what I have been offered. Some of us have the ability to give a lot, like a driver, a five-star hotel stay, and assistance in navigating through a new place. Some of us have our time and service to give, like organizing an impromptu gathering of like-minded folks to help a newcomer start to form a community. Regardless, just an act that may seem so simple, an act that takes only a little time and energy, can complete transform someone's experience. And, in my world of research, it's the type of gesture that can alter someone's perspective, understanding of a context, and ultimately the path that they take. 

If you asked me how I was feeling about my summer plans 72 hours ago, I was seriously wondering if I could really do it. But as I sit here looking out at the ocean, reflecting on this African experience and preparing for the upcoming week, I can say that the possibilities look a little bit brighter. 

I admit that my seafood salad may have
something to do with my current state of being...

Or maybe it's this beautiful view!

Though I have been so fortunate to be so well taken care of thus far, I haven't lost sight of my goal. I'm here in Guinea because there are perspectives that have yet to be captured or that sometimes get lost. For example, this picture I've painted of my time in Conakry may sound different from the "Africa" on yesterday's news. But I am only able to start reflecting on these experiences in the way that I am now because of the generosity of others, who have thus far offered so much and surpassed my expectations. I have little idea what the rest of this journey will look like, and to avoid disappointment or inflexibility, I don't think I'll even try to imagine. Instead, I say thank you to those who have generosity has helped me begin to settle in and open my eyes to all of this summer's possibilities. 

This, my friends, is the "Africa" I look forward to sharing more about. 

En route from the airport in one of Conakry's neighborhoods.