Hold Your Breath. Now Dive.

It’s been about two years. I got rejected from 3 major job opportunities. I worked in manual labor. I moved…. multiple times.  My road to being a Peace Corps volunteer has been a long and bumpy one. Tomorrow, I will finally get the chance to take the literal long and bumpy road to my site to start my official service as a Peace Corps volunteer. 



Swearing-In Ceremony!

It’s an odd thing to explain to friends and family back home but I haven’t even begun my Peace Corps service. The past 11 weeks have been what we call “training”. Language classes, tech classes, and classes about teaching classes. I’ve learned a lot of great lessons within sessions and organized lessons but I’d wager that what I learned outside of these is worth way more. My host family and some new friends, that will last a lifetime, have taught me how to live in this whole new world (Disney reference intended).

Learning by doing has always been the best way for me to learn things and I’ve been using that to get me through my time in Guinea thus far. The key ingredient that made this all work was the people around me. When you have so many people around you who want you to succeed, it’s pretty tough to fail. It's how I got through college, how I got to Chicago and how I got to Guinea. So now I go, with the same support system but at an even greater distance, to Wonkifong.

Enjoying fun times.

Wonkifong. No matter how many times I say it, write it, or read it I can’t believe: 1. It’s a real name 2. It’s now where I live. I know that I’ve been there before but the whole place is a mystery to me. I’ve been staying in the capital for the past week and enjoying western comforts before going back to the Guinean way of life (without power and with lots of rice). We really have had way better of a time than I ever thought was possible in Guinea. I played pool at a bar, well the table was slanted and The Matrix: Revolutions was on the one TV. I got to swim in pool, well it was secluded in the compound of the Country Director and had a sketchy lack of chemicals. Finally, I got to eat pizza, well it was pizza-esque with an onion sauce, no tomatoes. So overall it really was an amazing week of comforts but still relative to Guinea.

For the first time, I’m going to say that I’m doing better than Guinea-Good, I’m feeling Guinea-Great. So I'm taking a refreshed attitude and a full-belly (finally) to Wonkifong.


So I did cut my hair like this for a bit. Loved it, but my boss not so much. Already buzzed the rest.

I know there wasn’t much action or stories in this post but I wanted to let everyone know that this is when the stories get real. Also wanted to say HAPPY BIRTHDAY to my one and only big sister! Hope you had a great day.

Dante

Monsieur MOI!!!

Age-old advice says that you have to fall on your face before you can

run or something like that, I might be paraphrasing. Either way, I’ve

reached that part in my training process we so cleverly call “Practice

School.” Up to this point I’ve taught to a group of 4 of peers and to

a group of 5 avid Guinean students. So when I was told that I’d be

teaching a 7th grade class of 80 kids, I put up my hands to brace

myself as I would surely fall on my face. Lucky for me Guinean

classes, especially optional ones, aren’t exactly highly attended. My

anticipated class of 80 turned into a manageable 46, so much

easier……right?

I went into my first classes with high hopes and ready to take the

practice part of “Practice School” quite literally. I was scheduled to

start with an easy class of about 15 or 20 10th graders which wasn’t

any more of a comfort because these kids made it this far in school by

actually knowing French so I knew I had to be on my A-game. As advised

I stood in the doorway of the classroom until all the students rose

from their seats before I entered the class fully. An odd standoff

took place for what felt like hours but my glance of “levez-vous”

(with key use of eyebrow) eventually won them over.  I let fate take

the reins for the rest of the class because before I realized it, it

was over.  I actually had to stop and think if I had actually given

then entire lesson in French or whether I had slipped back into

English in my fluster. My worries were calmed as the students copied

notes and even asked me more questions. After a few questions answered

in broken French I walked out of the classroom with scenes of Dead

Poet’s Society (or Good Willl Hunting, or A Beautiful Mind, or Stand

and Deliver) flashing in my head. I was a teacher, vraiment!

My petty victory over the 10th grade class was short lived as I had an

hour before I had to teach the 7th graders. I knew that I had to win

them over quick so I had planned a lesson full of experiments where I

get to burn things. Guinean or American, little kids love flames,

explosions and chances for their teacher to get hurt.  I entered the

class the same way as my morning class but 46 7th graders are a lot

different of an audience, but to my surprise they all rose and even

recited some little phrase that I assumed was a pledge of allegiance

or something of the sort. For the most part the kids were better than

expected with only a few disruptive students. I had more participation

than one teacher can handle for every one of my questions. Each time I

asked for someone to read from the blackboard, my question was

answered with a loud chorus of “Monsieur MOI! Monsieur! MONSIEUR!

MOI!” and snaps to get my attention, all normal in Guinean classes. It

felt good to really control such a large class, guess all I could hope

for was that they understood what I was saying.

At the end of each week of practice school we have to give an exam to

each class we taught over the week and as any teacher can tell you:

when there’s a test, there’s cheating. Cheating isn’t anything new,

but the level these students take it to is. Blatant passing of notes,

using cheat sheets and even giving each other the answer verbally was

seen in every classroom. I did my best to be a stickler and even used

an A and a B form for my big class to deter cheaters, or at least make

it easier for me to see who cheated.

As the class slowly dwindled and students left after finishing, I

noticed that one student in particular had barely started copying down

any of the questions let alone answering them. I recognized him right

away as one of my problem students: loud, disruptive, pudgy with a

huge smile and dimples to match his overall careless behavior. I had

already taken a piece of chalk from him because he was writing on his

face as well as moved him multiple times so he had no excuse of not

Mamadou and Me!



being able to see. The second to last student left and he was leftalone. I could have stopped him right there because he had already run out of time but there wasn’t another class after this so instead I sat down next to him and left him to his work. After a bit he realized I wasn’t going anywhere and decided he would try the fourth of four problems with a little extra direction from me. He finished answering

the 4 part true or false question and did his best to avoid my eye contact. Before he got up to leave I stopped him to ask why he didn’t try the rest of the test. He answered, seeming shy for the first time, “Je ne sais pas.” I saw he had the same last name as my host family and I told him that I was named after a former French professor who used to teach at the same school.  Then I let him run off, hoping that my mini inspirational speech with guilt-trip undertones got to him in some way. Little Mamadou Diallo isn’t going to be the star pupil anytime soon but he loves to say hi to me now and he seems extra proud to show me he’s in class, whether he’s listening or not.



Littlest Host Sister....tough kid.



Practice school really has been the best learning tool so far in my Peace Corps training. I can tell my French is getting much better, I’m feeling more a part of the community and I like returning home a little more now. One day my littlest sister/cousin/general family member, who always comes running to meet me in the yard with the rest of the kids, was coming at me a little too fast. She decided to go for the trust-fall type of hug at my knees without me watching. I never broke stride and then turned around to find her getting up brushing off her bottom. I’ve adjusted back to the school schedule quite easily and I really enjoy being in the classroom so far. I can’t believe I’m

about to lose the training wheels (pun intended) and hope I can keep the positive vibe going as I get closer to my move to Wonkifong.



A beautiful night at the Training Compound. I'm not actually at a resort just had a beautiful sunset.



Hope all is going good for everyone back home. Football updates are necessary!

Dante.

A Brief Look Forward

For me, having internet is a lucky day and having strong enough internet to post to the blog ....jackpot.

My counterpart and his kids, Richard and Antwaun

For the most part I'm doing good these days but I had a hell of a week and a half before this. It all started with leaving Dubreka for Mamou to attend our counterpart workshop. Essentially just a few days and a bunch of presentations while we meet someone from the school I will be working at. I will be at the College of Wonkifong. *DISCLAIMER* college in french terms refers to middle school. The best part about this little trip was the simple fact that I got to get out of Dubreka. I'd really been feeling a little stir crazy so any trip past the market was a breath of fresh air. The trip out to Mamou was beautiful! It's pretty amazing to see such lush green forests on top of mountains with a spackling of waterfalls every so often. Unfortunately the "Lion King" aura gets broken pretty quickly when the bus has to swerve huge pot holes or cows while another car is flying by. It's pretty easy to see why transportation is the most dangerous thing about Guinea. Lucky for me, my future site, Wonkifong, is a quick trip from the capital meaning I won't have to be out on the main highways too often. After a 4 day stay in what could be a tropical resort destination I headed off to see my house in Wonkifong.

Overall my trip to Wonkifong was......just plain awkward. The guy with the keys to my house wasn't in town so we broke into my house with a crowbar (already have new locks). Then I had to deal with the moving in feeling when you just want everyone else to go away but in broken French and Sussu (the local language in my region). I got "settled" to the point of having at least a bed to sleep on and we were off to meet some people in the village. The most important thing to do was to meet all the higher ups in the village. Lots of shaking hands, smiling as old men talk about me, and expressing how excited I was to be there.

Me and Monson. Cutest kid in my village.

The whole trip I really was just looking for a way to be a little independent. The "baby-ing  the foreigner" bit is getting really old. The first chance I saw to take a chance on my own was when I was going back to Wonkifong from Coyah the big city nearby. I looked at my counterpart with confidence said I could go it alone and sent him on his way with a nice wink and a fingergun. All I had to do was wait in the cab and it would take me to my village. Thing about cabs in Guinea is that they don't leave until they are full. Full means there are 4 adults in the backseat, 2 people sitting shotgun, the driver, and an optional person sitting on top of the gearshift or roof. In this cab I was sitting in the back middle seat next to a woman with two kids on her lap. One sitting on her knees and the other breast feeding. Just before the cab is about to take off the kid on her knees pukes. Just down the seat, all on his pants making a small puddle on the floor of the cab. Mom "cleans" up the mess with a towel and we're ready to roll. Luckily this cab had a flat so we moved cars and I was free of the puke smell. Now we're waiting longer for a new driver to get moving. I notice a guy who's kinda yelling a lot and I just hope he's not my driver. Same guy gets in a fist fight right outside the car I'm sitting in, I really hope that's not my driver. People break up the fight and push one of the fighters into the driver seat. He's my driver. Bleeding, pissed and still yelling at the other guy we finally depart for my village.

Visiting my site had lots of ups and downs but I've been able to decompress at the capital now and I'm feeling refreshed to finish training. I have to teach real students next week so I really should be on my A-game.

Personal update: after fasting for the month of Ramadan I feel a lot closer to my host family. I lost 25 pounds since I've been here and I give so much props to my Muslim friends back home for fasting every year. It's not fun. I'm alive and well........well for the most part.

I know I won't get to post again before next weekend so I'll leave with this. GO BLUE!

Adventure Time Needs Adventure Shorts

Although I am first and foremost in this country for work, I do get to play a lot. The second weekend we were in Dubreka, Peace Corps had an outing planned to go to “Les Cascades”, pretty vague but that was actually their name. It was as touristy a place as you can find in Guinea, which isn’t saying much. To add to the adventure and to get some much needed exercise we decided to bike the 25 km to the waterfalls. Lots of up and down but it was mostly road biking. We rode on what is the national highway of Guinea, which really wasn’t that busy but when you see a beaten down semi truck flying towards you, it adds a degree of difficulty to the trip. 

As the phrase goes, “the juice was worth the squeeze.” We made it to this beautiful natural waterfall complete with adjacent restaurant owned by a Lebanese man who knows how to make some hummus. So we got to enjoy some swimming, some pita and to top it all off a cold beer. The best part about going to see a waterfall in Guinea is the lack of supervision. There weren’t really any rules or regulations meaning we could swim right up to and climb the waterfall, which made for the best shower I’ve had in this country thus far.  This really was the best thing to have after our first week of adjusting to living in Dubreka, host families, and getting back into classes.

After a full afternoon of sitting in the water and drinking beers at the restaurant we weren’t dedicated enough to bike back so we threw the bikes on top of the Peace Corps bus and headed home in style. The ride home was cramped as usual but we lightened the mood with some tunes which inevitably ended up on Disney songs. Don’t worry, I held back…..for the most part.

PART 2!

This past weekend was highlighted by my second adventure: mountain hike. It had been a long week and I was mentally exhausted from the stress of finding out our sites and getting into some more intense French lessons. So a few of us decided it was the perfect weekend to climb the mountain that looms in the distance not far from Dubreka’s large market simply called “Kilometre Cinqe” (because it’s 5 km away).   We found out that it’s name is “Le Chien qui Fume” or The Smoking Dog.  Probably due to the fact it looks like a dog lying down and always has clouds rolling over it.  Lucky for me, another volunteer’s brothers (Abdoulaye, Boubacar, and Barbo) are the Guinean equivalent to Bear Grils. They were our guides on this adventure and they couldn’t have been more badass. 

To start the day we take a quick taxi over to K5 and convince the driver to take us just a bit farther towards the mountain. At what looked like some random point in the road our guides tell the driver to stop and we get out in the middle of a dirt road next to a river. Looking across the river we can see a definite trail but there’s no bridge. They tell us that usually it’s easy to cross but after so much rain the last few days the river was about 3 feet deep and moving really fast. We moved upstream a bit and found a thick vine to cut and use as a rope to assist us across the river. Like I said, these guys are badass. 

From there on out it was pretty smooth sailing to the top. We followed a well-made trail for about half way up the mountain, passing two small children headed towards the raging river and a random family living fairly high up. This is a picture of them. I wasn’t even paying attention to them and then one of the guides yells to me in French that they wanted me to take their photo. Look over and they are Kodak ready. So odd.  As I took the picture I could almost hear the voice of a certain photographer I know saying that it would have been better if it was an action shot….preferably from a crazy angle too. 

The rest of the way up was much more rugged with more foliage and a hardly defined trail. Lucky for us we had our trusty guides to help us along. After a while the magic thought of “they know the mountain like Pocahontas” went away because we discovered that what we thought was just trash on the trail was the markers. A common item to sell is small bags of purified Coyah water and people would stab them onto branches to mark the path. Although this wasn’t foolproof, resulting in us yelling “Ou est les Coyahs?!” many times. Our guides never doubted the trail and took us straight to the top even though they admittedly doubted we would make it that far. 

Although we had been lucky with the weather all day, cloudy and not hot at all, it backfired once we got to the top. Cloud cover is great for hiking but terrible for sightseeing. We had made good time so we took our time enjoying our success. We all had a good laugh when we noticed that the three Guineans who looked so comfortable the whole walk up, even in plastic soccer cleats and basketball shorts, were freezing in the cool wind of the summit.  Being a bit lazy turned out to be the best choice because every so often the clouds would break and we would get a beautiful view of Dubreka. 

Trip down is always less exciting but walking with good friends made it great. I’m so happy we did it. There might even be a return trip in the works. I know there is a lot of other more important stuff I could be writing about but it’s not all about work! Hope everyone is doing great back home. Been missing home and friends a lot lately. Especially, now that my sister has gotten engaged! Congrats to you both, I love you and I will cheers my nalgene full of filtered and slightly chlorinated water to you two crazy lovebirds. 

“Ce n’est pas grave” is Guinea’s “NBD”

It’s been a few weeks now since I last posted, but to put it lightly it feels like its been months. With so much that has been happening I can’t believe I’ve been in Guinea for what will be close to a month now, but I’ll save the emotional release essay for those of you I email, here’s the big stuff:

I’m in a new town. I have been living with my host family in Dubreka for just over three weeks. The first day I met them was one of the most awkward things I have ever been through. It was called an “Adoption Ceremony” and before I knew it I was hugging some random old lady, taking pictures and holding a baby.  Weirdest part is that of the first 4 people I met who I thought were my family, only one lives with me. I have seen the other 3 maybe once or twice since then. Ce n’est pas grave.

Moving past the initial shock of having a new white brother in the family all went back to normal fairly quick. I was given my host father’s name of Issiaga Diallo, which comes with a lot of pressure because he is deceased and was a great French teacher back in the day. The rest of the family is great. I have a 22 year old brother named Mohamed who is great to hang with and talk to. A 23 year old sister who likes to stare just a little bit too long when we talk but she is fun to talk with. Recently we have been debating dance styles because they dance really boring here and I tell her that they gotta spice it up a bit. Two sisters ages 3 and 7 both named Aissatou (seen in the photo), yeah confusing. To round out the family (at least the ones who are around most consistently) there’s Almamy and Yussif, the funniest little dudes ever. Almamy likes to pop-and-lock. Yussif is most comfortable after a shower when he throws his towel off like a pro wrestler entering the ring and follows it up with a few laps of the living room. Ce n’est pas grave.

Overall life with the Diallo’s has been really great. Been out at night with both my sister and my brother. They don’t mind too much when I stay out a little late. Nay-nay (mom in Pulaar) is a decent cook. I felt really close to them the night my brother got his results back from his college entrance exams (the Brevet). It’s an intense night because they publicly announce everyone’s scores to a mass of people. Also to put it in perspective just about 30% of the country passes, 10-15% of Dubreka candidates. Ce n’est pas grave. The air was thick and was only broken by an occasional yelp of successful or gut wrenching cries of failure. Needless to say I was quite nervous for my brother. Good thing is, he’s a genius. Totally nailed it. Going to college. Great night, and very emotional night, for my family given my host-father’s passion for education. I’m glad I was a part of it.

This past week or so I have been fasting for the month of Ramadan. Islam is the major religion in Guinea and my family is all fasting so I figured I would give it a shot and try to get closer to my new host family. It hasn’t been easy but it’s definitely been worth it thus far. Worst part is that you can’t drink either: hot sun = no beuno for Dante. They have this practice of waking up at 4AM to get in one more meal before the sun rises so I’m up for that too. This also means I get to try and fall back asleep while I can hear the prayer calls from 3 different Mosques. I’m beginning to adjust to the sounds but its essentially slow droning sounds of a half received AM radio station. Ce n’est pas grave.

Schools good. Learning lots. French…….mediocre. Getting there. Ce n’est pas grave.

PS: I shaved off the beard recently. Not a lot of mirrors in Guinea so when I catch my reflection I freak out. Plan is to just let it grow back again, shave it, repeat. Ce n’est pas grave.

PPS: We received our sites for the next two years and I will be living in Wonkifong. Yes, it’s a town in Guinea. More info on this to come post site-visit.

Whoa......

So, I'm in Guinea. It's real. Not exactly what The Lion King shows but I'll deal. It's so funny that even when I was in the middle of 36 hours of travel I still had no clue what I was headed for. For the first few days we have been in Conakry which is the capital. We are staying in the Peace Corps house so think gross European hostile which by Guinea standards is rolling like a big shot. Running water, check it. The night we arrived it was raining and apparently we didn't get enough cuz it happens everyday. Last nights storm was massive but cool to watch from the covered roof.

Fourth of July was hilarious for me. We went to someone close to an Ambassador's house for a picnic.....but it was raining. We stood under tents while Guineans cooked hamburgers, played good ol' blues music, kids swimming in pools, and loaded up on potato salad. I was shocked to see that this house that looked like it belongs in Rochester Hills was in the middle of Guinea. The streets flood and garbage is everywhere but if you're in an American's house you can get damn good gin and tonic. Seemed a bit terrible to me but then I remembered I'm the one here to do humanitarian work, they are here to be diplomatic. Pretty different.

Most of our time in Conakry is spent doing orientation stuff. Lots of classes and new information. They gave us notebooks and I made some trades to switch from a "Sean Paul/Rihanna" note book to one with Formula 1 on the cover. I know someone back home is proud of me (who is Mark Webber?). Later today we're heading to Dubreka where I will be going through an adoption ceremony for my host family. Kinda pumped to have an African name/family but as you can guess there is a lot of problems I'm predicting.

I'll have decent access to internet so feel free to email/facebook me. It helps. Checking facebook today was a huge morale boost. I can't thank you enough for the support. When I hear people say things like "you're the type of person who can do this" helps me feel that way as I constantly doubt my endurance for this trip.


****Sidenote: not sure if the video blog idea will work but stay tuned. ****

First Attempt

The beginning. That's what tomorrow is, the beginning of my two year adventure in Guinea. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't feeling nervous, scared or anxious. Truth be told I'm all those and more. For the year and a half build that was the application process I wasn't nervous at all. It was almost like I was playing chicken with myself to see how far I would take this. Well, it starts tomorrow and I'm not flinching.....yet.

This past month has been amazing. My mini "farewell tour" consisted of five cities and many loved ones. I started in DC seeing one of my best friends in the world. People who know both of us asked me if it was hard to say goodbye. It was hard to leave but we never said goodbye. That's how it is with best friends, that extra second of what we ironically call a "homie hug" says it all. I know. He knows. To him I say thanks and good luck on the academic adventure he's putting himself through for the next two years. 

The next weekend wasn't any easier. I headed out to San Francisco to visit my sister and her boyfriend. This weekend meant a lot to me because I knew that she wouldn't be able to make it back home before I flew out. She showed me her side of the city and how beautiful it is. We got a lot of time to talk and it felt good to just hang around the house which we don't get to do very often anymore. I miss her more than she knows and hope that she knows that I'm only going across the ocean to one up her on being the farthest away from home. I love you. 

After my last flight back into O'Hare it was weird to think that I was leaving Chicago in a week after working hard just to find a place to stay a few months earlier. Those 9 months flew by and my Chicago adventure taught me a lot. It showed me that be independent doesn't mean you're alone. I made some amazing friends that I will never forget and some stories that I can't quite remember. Seeing so many people on the weekend before I left was exactly what I needed, made it even harder to leave but solidified my accomplishments in Chicago. I can't wait to pick up where I left off in Chicago upon returning. Thank you Chef, I'll miss you. 

Two weeks ago I finally made it back home to Michigan. Then I didn't hesitate to leave home again to visit some friends in Ann Arbor. I packed a lot into two nights in best city in Michigan. Kayaked in the Huron with some amazing people. Had dinner with a close friend. Danced like a fool at Rick's. It was great. I hope the best for you all and I will try to stay on beat in Africa. funKtion on 3.....

Finally, I'm home. Looking back I needed more than a week to collect my stuff and prepare for real but since when have I been early on anything. Figured I'd go for consistency. I've spent the entire week shopping, seeing movies, having drinks with friends and spending time with family. The last two nights have been some really tough goodbyes. A girl who I will never forget. Friends who mean the world to me. Family I'll miss every time I sit down for a meal. 

There's more to come tonight. These goodbyes tonight will be the hardest of all. Just don't know how to look my mom in the face and say goodbye. Guess I'll have something to write about real soon though. Thanks for reading. One of my good friends in Chicago and someone who's strength I won't truly appreciate until I'm abroad once said to me when I told him I was afraid to leave 

"The people who care now, will care in two years and those are the ones worth caring about."

So all I can ask as I leave: don't forget me and always know I'm thinking about you. 

Love Dante