Guinea: It’s all about the tapalapa

Me and Mettre, a craftsman who has his shop
at La voile de marie. Despite that the area has
been largely abandoned since 2008, he maintains
his shop and, when the lone visitor comes by, is
so positive! Of course I had to buy some items
(and didn't even have the heart to bargain).
This is true inspiration. 

Only a few weeks left here in Guinea and I have to say my head, and my heart, are full! Whether chatting with women about the hardships of life here for them, or taking in the breath-taking yet abandoned "la voile de marie" waterfall, I’m really starting to see this country, and parts of the culture, in a very different light.

Me with two of the women of Muffa, a
community-based microfinance group.

La voile de marie (veil of the bride).

This past week started with a meeting at FITIMA, a foundation that supports handicapped children and women, where I learned about some of the problems young women in Guinea face. I, then, spent four days back in Kindia, a tranquil contrast to Conakry life. I had a chance to interact with seven community-based organizations from across the country and learned about the ways in which they’ve been engaging communities to improve utilization of health services across Ebola-affected areas. I also had a chance to visit the health facilities that HC3 is renovating, and was amazed to learn that through strong relationships, oversight, and integrity, they were able to renovate an entire facility for half the cost that a multilateral organization paid to renovate a single room!

Diyare and Cellou, two Amnesty ambassadors, and me.

New friends during the workshop in Kindia.

Health Center before. June 2016.

Health Center After. July 2016.

I’ve learned that language and food are two important keys to any culture, and so I spent time this week trying to engage more with both. Beyond French, I started to learn some basic greetings in Malinke, one of the many local languages, which garnered a lot of laughs from my new friends. I ate rice, feuille de patates (boiled sweet potato leaves that make a spinach-like dish), sauce arachide (peanut sauce), Konkoé (a delicious smoked fish stew), funion (tiny couscous-like dish made of millet, which they served with an okra gumbo I have no intention of eating again)…I went with the flow when we went to a hole-in-the-wall restaurant, where I gorged on pâte de maïs  (thick corn mashed potato-like porridge) and an array of delicious sauces. I savored one of the most delicious salads I’ve had in long time, made from the fresh vegetables of the fertile Kindia region. And I discovered the local bread, tapalapa, a dense, clay oven-baked staple, which has changed my no-carb ways!

The restaurant. Seriously. 

Sofi and Bobo digging in!

Me and Dr. Daffe.

So good!

Yum! (And I didn't get too sick...)

Perhaps the most special moment, one that showed me the potential of Guinea and reminded me that corruption doesn’t have to be part of an “African” culture, was meeting the Mayor of Kindia, a man who spent 14 years abroad before returning to Guinea. He shared with us a strong vision for a different “Africa” – where the people, not foreigners, lead change. 

When I was invited to share remarks, I was amazed that French flew earnestly:

I’m here because I believe in Africa, I shared, My family is Nigerian. There are a lot of problems there. Maybe one day I’ll work there. But for now, I spend a lot of time all over Africa including this country that I don’t yet know because I hope to use the tools that I have to illuminate problems. It’s not me who can change it but I can help bring it to light for leaders, like you, who can lead change.

Of course, I still find the traffic here excruciating; our 2-hour journey took 6 due to poor roads and poorer driving. Of course, I struggle with the juxtaposition of power and poverty; I sipped on four bottles of Moet & Chandon (compliments of a very wealthy friend of a friend) at a club while watching young women look for sugar daddies, a normalized form of income, I’m told. But it’s this sentiment – that I can use my current tool kit and the platform that I have to raise the voices of so many here – that continues to keep me sustained. And in a world that seems to be spewing more hate and destruction than I've experienced in my lifetime, that little sentiment of hope and belief that, however small, I can make a difference is just what I need.