October 28, 2012

     I just spent most of the afternoon and part of this evening trying to download another post to the blog.  The internet connection has been getting worse and worse.  I need at least 30 bps (bites per second) to upload a post to the blog, and lately the numbers have been hovering around 10 bps.  Andres also has indicated he’s having trouble getting online.  It’s gotten so bad he doesn’t even try anymore and gave Cees his internet stick.  Now the only method they have of communicating with the outside world is through Diana’s blackberry.  Thankfully we have blackberry service too which allows us at least to receive and reply to emails, and also text using BBM and What’sApp.  But since I don’t have many people’s contact info on my phone, I can’t just send an email whenever I feel like it.  And updating the blog is near impossible, especially if I want to include pictures.

    For the past month Andres has been trying very hard to get one of the wi-fi boxes from the cell phone company.  After getting the run around with the company guy, it finally looked like he had a solid lead through the grocery store owner.  But when we tested a signal stick we found out there isn’t a strong enough signal in all of Boke to get data.  The only place you can get any kind of signal is right next to the towers, and even then it’s still slow.  Then there’s still the problem of getting electricity to the box.  Part of the culture here is that people do not want to admit when they make a mistake.  So it’s not surprising that the cell phone guy kept telling Andres the box was coming when he knew very well the signal wasn’t strong enough to serve our needs.  One weekend Andres even spent over two hours in the restaurant in Kamsar, waiting for the guy to show up and give him the box.  The guy assured him he was on his way, but never showed up. 

     So it looks like we’re just going to have to deal with really slow internet and/or waiting for the weekends to go to Kamsar.  This has probably been the hardest adjustment to life in Guinea.  Please pray for us in this respect, and send us emails as often as you think of us, and be patient when the blog isn’t updated regularly.  Thank you.

Lord, please grant us patience as we learn to live without “regular” means of communication.  Please keep us close to family and friends despite the lack of regular contact.  And please help our supporters to remember to lift us up in prayer even when we aren’t able to keep them up to date on our developments.  Thank you Lord for those times we are able to connect.  Thank you for the technology that does allow us to stay in contact with our loved ones.  We pray for a better solution and more regular means of contact, Lord.  Nothing is impossible with God.  Amen.

p.s.  I just prayed this post into existence.  As I was waiting for the site to download, I started praying fervently (the prayer of a desperate man) for the signal to go up.  As I prayed, I watched the signal numbers jump and down.  Then suddenly they started rising higher, little by little.  I prayed even more.  The numbers increased more.  Whenever I grew lax in my prayers, the numbers dropped.  Whenever I increased my prayers, the numbers rose.  It was quite an odd feeling to be able to measure the fervency and effectiveness of my prayers, but I believe God was answering and teaching me a lesson on the power of prayer at the same time.  Strangely enough last week, I gave a measure on “importunate prayer.”  Praying like the widow before the sinful judge, persistently bugging the judge until she got what she wanted. 

Thank you, Lord for allowing me to make these posts.  Thank you for the power of prayer.  

 October 26

     This past weekend felt like Christmas.  First the packages arrived.  Then it was Tabasky. 

     For the missionary community, package time is awaited with much excitement and anticipation.  Every two months a ship from the mining company arrives, carrying with it containers full of merchandise for the stores, and packages for the missionaries.  So for the past two weeks everyone has been talking about the date the ship was going to arrive.  Then it was the question of how long it would take to get all the paper work for the packages to clear customs.  Finally the day arrived and Andres drove out to Kamsar to pick up the boxes.  That whole morning the kids in school kept talking about packages. “Are you expecting lots of boxes?  Who is sending you a package?  What do you think will be in them?”    

     Quite frankly Jen and I weren’t sure if we would get any.  We knew our families had sent some boxes, but we weren’t sure if they had gotten to the ports in time for this shipment or if they would arrive in the next one.  We were quite surprised when Diana informed us that Andres had picked up 7 packages for us and was on his way home from Kamsar.  About an hour later, Andres pulled into our driveway and delivered 6 large shoeboxes.  “Sometimes it happens that they miscount a box or another family takes the wrong box home,” Andres announced regarding our “missing” package.  This explanation didn’t bother us a bit as we were still very much surprised to have any packages, let alone six or seven.  We then proceeded to read the labels to figure out who on earth had sent us these marvelous gifts.  The four from our families were expected, and since we knew they contained gifts for Christmas we decided to wait and open those when the kids were asleep.  So we proceeded to open the two mystery packages.  Both boxes were from friends at CBC and contained a random assortment of gifts from seasoning packets, to candy, gifts for the kids and a whole assortment of goodies. 

     As our kids danced around with their newfound possessions, I was blown away at the kindness and generosity of these gifts.  It wasn’t just the fact that we had received unexpected presents, it was the feeling of home that came with them: a taste of home in the familiar products, and the knowledge that someone back home was thinking of us.  We were further surprised when Andres called and informed us that he had two additional boxes for us, presents that had been included in their stash of goods.   

     Of course the following day that’s all the kids could talk about again.  We spent our journal time sharing all the wonderful blessings we had received, comparing the contents of our packages, and discussing which items were our favorites and which items were, well, a little weird.  All in all it was so much fun, and we now understand why package time is looked forward to with so much excitement.  My only concern now is that Christmas will feel like somewhat of a let-down, having celebrated all these gifts so early.  I suppose it might be healthy for us, though, giving us more cause to focus on Christ as the real reason for the holiday.  Still, I have to admit, I’m definitely looking forward to the next shipment.  I wonder what surprises will await us then.

Thank you, family, and thank you, Lord, for your amazing generosity and love.  We are so blessed!

     The second reason this weekend felt like Christmas is Tabasky (spelling?).  Other than sounding like a popular brand of hot sauce, Tabasky is a religious holiday also nicknamed “la fete du mouton”, or the celebration of the sheep.  It’s the time Muslims remember that God provided a ram for Abraham to sacrifice instead of his son; except Islam teaches that Abraham was going to sacrifice Ishmael, not Isaac.  I’m not sure why this is cause for celebration, though, considering the fact that Muslims still don’t have a way to atone for their sins.  Basically Muslims believe they are saved by following the five pillars and being good Muslims.  But no Muslim truly knows if he is good enough to get into paradise.  The only guarantee for that is Jihad, or as we know it, suicide bombers.  Nevertheless every Tabasky, Muslims get together and have a great big feast, slaughtering a perfect ram and then roasting it over a fire. 

     Apparently in Boke Tabasky is even bigger than Independence Day or the end of Ramadan.  The day started at 5 a.m. with a marching band blasting away down in Correrah.  By 9 a.m. our neighbors already had visitors arriving to help with the preparations.  By noon the ram had been sacrificed, and the women were finishing up their cooking.  Some light singing and dancing ensued, a warm up round in preparation for the bigger dance festival later on.  At 2 p.m., the Mosque called for an assembly and delivered a series of speeches and prayers which we could hear over the megaphones.  That done, the real party began.  Drums and whistles could be heard all over, people dancing in the courtyards, everyone eating and having a good time. 

     During the course of the morning our neighbors had invited us several times to come over and join them, so finally after school (CCA doesn’t observe Muslim holidays, sorry) I walked over to check things out.  Immediately I was greeted by our neighbors as well as our landlord who happened to be here for this special occasion.  It seems that the neighbor ladies have a sister who holds some kind of high position in the government.  The landlord quickly ushered me over to introduce me to her.  It wasn’t hard to figure out which one she was.  Right there in the center of the courtyard, in the best spot under the shade of the tree, on a nice luxurious couch, surrounded by an entourage of ministers and body guards, sat a rather large woman, dressed in very elegant, African costume, eating roasted goat liver.  It’s amazing how important status is here.  All day long this woman was escorted here and there by her entourage, always being given the best seat in the house, treated like royalty everywhere she went, in spite of the fact that she is a member of the family.  Still, she was very kind and friendly, and even offered me some of her liver.  Of course I had to say “yes;” I couldn’t resist.

      It also seems like it was this woman’s political party that sponsored the celebrations for our neighborhood.  Right behind our compound, a large p.a. system was set up with really loud music and really bad sound.  Seeing as we couldn’t escape the noise, our family decided to walk over and join in.  As we arrived, the emcee had just finished introducing all the important people and then proceeded to introduce a local singer/artist.  The artist was backed by a large chorus of women all wearing white dresses bearing the picture of the current president.  As the music began, I realized the song was propaganda for the President’s political party.  Though I couldn’t understand the words, it was easy enough to recognize the names of Alpha Conde spoken over and over again.  It was so catchy, I’ve been singing it ever since. 

     Following this performance the minister produced a wad of bills and literally showered the musicians with money.  One of the members of her entourage then stood up and gave a long speech, thanking the community for their support and reminding them to vote for them in the next elections.  The campaigning having ended, they gave the microphone to the “griots.”  These women are about the same caliber as the beggar women from the independence celebrations.  This time, however, instead of shouting at you through their megaphones they were backed by a whole p.a. system.  For 15 minutes these women sang loud, tragic songs, in high-pitched, raspy voices.  The ones who weren’t on the microphone marched around in a circle, performing elaborate, somber-looking dances, each one taking an extended turn in front of the minister.  Apparently she was unmoved by their performances as no money came forth this time.  Our landlord, however, feeling particularly generous, or perhaps as an attempt to shut the women up, jumped up and handed out bills of money to all the participants.  This is when Jen and I decided to leave.  We had already had a couple women ask us for money, and we were sure more would come our way after the performances.  It’s rather difficult to hide when you’re the only white person in a crowd of Africans. 

     At the conclusion of all of this, I walked away feeling rather confused, but as the party continued on, it was clear this occasion was a grand time for our whole neighborhood, a time of joy and laughter, a time of family and friends, a time of food and fellowship, a time of dancing and music.  It was fun to see everyone’s merriment, the fancy clothes (and hair pieces) brought out just for the occasion, big pots of food boiling over hot coals, the big drums and even bigger smiles.  It’s clear God has given us all a great capacity and need for joyous occasions. 

     So while it has felt a lot like Christmas around here, I have been reminded again of the amazing gift we have in Jesus, and the amazing privilege of sharing this gift with others.  Perhaps one day my neighbors will have cause for even greater celebration when they discover that God has provided a lasting and eternal sacrifice in the form of His Son, Jesus.  I pray that day comes soon.

     October 22, 2012

     Usually when you walk up to someone’s door you’ll knock or ring the doorbell.  But in the case that the door is already open, you might call out, “Knock! Knock!”  In Guinea people’s doors and windows are always open, but instead of saying, “knock, knock” people call out, “Kong! Kong!”  The first time I heard this, I was totally confused.  “What is that noise?” I thought.  Finally I realized it was people “knocking” at the door.  If that’s not strange enough, however, the answer to the question, “who’s there?” is simply, “It’s me,” as if we should automatically recognize everyone’s voice. 

     We weren’t sure why people always say this until Jennifer was sitting in the kids’ French class last week.  Sure enough, the teacher told them, “First you say, ‘Kong, Kong!’  Then you say, ‘Who’s there?’  And then you say, ‘It’s me!’  That way if your parents are busy you’ll know it’s safe to answer the door.”  We were pretty floored by this answer and the kids were too, because they just stared at him in disbelief.  We aren’t sure what a robber or a thief would say if he were coming to visit us, but apparently anyone who is willing to acknowledge they are themselves is safe to let in the door.  So much for stranger danger…

     On a more serious note, last week Jennifer was doing a parachute lesson as part of her science class.  After she had the kids launch their own little parachute men, Jen brought out the big parachute (the kind they use in elementary P.E. classes).  One of the neighbor girls happened to be walking by at that moment and was totally enthralled.  So after class we invited the neighbors to join us in some parachute games.  Of course the adult women had to come watch too. 

     Following this I took the opportunity to have one of our little Bible lessons with the girls, using one of the children’s picture Bibles.  The women also stayed to listen.  As I told the story of Moses and the 10 plagues, I was amazed to watch as one of the women began translating into Landouma, explaining the stories to the other women around.  Our nearest neighbor seemed very opposed, shaking her head in disbelief, but the other women kept arguing with her trying to convince her that they were indeed true.  We were further amazed as we overheard the ladies later on retelling the story to the rest of our neighbors.  We couldn’t understand the words, but it was clear by the gestures and expressions on their faces what they were talking about, and that they were definitely impacted by the stories.  So we’re excited to see what God will do with this.  It’s clear there is spiritual hunger there, and I hope to further build on this opportunity.  Perhaps this is what the Jahango have been missing all along…parachute evangelism.  Actually, as we shared this with Diana, she became very excited, longing for an opportunity to do similar Bible stories with the women and kids of her village.  “Watch out Correrah!  Here comes the chute!”

     “Dear Lord, please continue to move in the hearts of these neighbors.  Please remove the hardness and stubbornness of some.  Please grant us more opportunities like these to share your word with them, and also with the Jahango. Please lead us to a time when we can clearly share with them the good news of Jesus Christ. Pour out your grace on them that they might put their faith in you. Amen!”

Most people go on vacation to disconnet from the world.  This weekend Jen and I decided to go on vacation to reconnect to the world.  We're staying at Le Hotel Kamsar, which is really more like a motel, but it's the only hotel in town and it has a/c, hot water, and wi-fi.  So far we have had trouble with the connection but I thought I would take the chance to download some pictures.  Most of these are from a bike ride I took a coulple weekends ago.  This is the road that leads all the way up to Guinea-Bissau and then Senegal.  The people all along the way were very friendly and so excited to see a "fote", white person.  Only a couple of them asked for money or refused to have their picture taken.  Everyone else was very obliging and wanted me to print the pictures to give them to them.  My favorite is the picture of the dancing women.  They must have thought I was filming them cause they spontaneously broke out into song and dance when I asked if I could take their picture.  It's so amazing to me that this scenery and these beautiful people live just outside our back door.  Enjoy!

Teenage girls

Big Tree on Village Road

 

October 11, 2012

          One of the questions we asked the Gumbs prior to leaving Panama, was what they did for fun in Guinea.  Gustavo laughed and told us, “you are the fun!”  Now I know what he meant.  The truth is there just isn’t that much to do here.  So far our weekends usually involve going into Kamsar or staying home.  Kamsar isn’t much bigger than Boke, but they have electricity which means we can also get internet (at the grocery store). They also have a hotel with a pool, and two choices of restaurants.  The restaurants are “nice.”  That means they have a/c.  According to U.S. or Panamanian standards the food would be considered tolerable, but since they’re the only options available that makes the food really good.  Mostly they serve “brochettes” (kebabs), hot dogs, hamburgers, and one of the places has pizzas (about $10 for a personal pepperoni pizza, $7 if you’ll settle for ham).  Both restaurants are Lebanese owned (as are the grocery stores) so they also have a small assortment of Lebanese dishes.  I haven’t tried them all but I do enjoy the shwarmas. 

     The bummer is that neither of the places serves Guinean foods.  For that you have to try the truly local “restaurants” in Boke.  By restaurant I mean, Aunt Nana’s patio decked out with a few plastic tables and some lawn chairs.  Of course none of the missionaries can really recommend any of these places because no one is brave enough to try them.  The question always is whether or not the food is safe.  Nobody really wants to risk a stomach virus just to be able to eat out.  So the only time we’re able to really eat African is on Thursdays when our maid cooks for our school.  So far we have had two main kinds of dishes.  The first one is a peanut based sauce.  The second one is a red sauce based in palm oil.  Fatime adds variety by alternating between cooking beef or chicken with either of these sauces.  And they’re always served with a heaping plate of rice.  Both Fatime and Salu can pack down a ton of food when these dishes are served.  The food is very, very good, but again the disappointment is that we can’t get it anywhere else.

     So again the question is what do we do for fun?  Other than catching up on the blog, taking a shower with running water (the only real shower of the week), and prepping for school, so far we’ve entertained ourselves by watching movies, playing wii, and visiting our neighbors.  I go running or bike riding in the mornings, but after 9 a.m. it’s too hot and sunny to do anything active.  That’s why the locals generally congregate under the trees outside, trying to move as little as possible so as to conserve energy and reduce the sweating.  It’s not as easy for us Americans who are used to constant activity.  I guess we are the product of an entertainment based culture and are suffering the consequences of that.  In some ways I’m grateful for the change, and in some ways I miss being at home.  At this point I would even settle for some reruns on T.V., which happens to be what the Galvez do.  The last time in Conakry they were able to borrow a collection of the Cosby Show.  Now don’t get me wrong, I love the Huxtables, but when you’re watching T.V. that’s that old, things are pretty bad.  Ultimately I guess the problem isn’t that we’re bored, but that we are boring.  If we are the fun, then we’re gonna have to relearn what it means to have fun.

Thank you, Lord, for your provision.  Thank you that we can afford to eat out.  Thank you that we do have places like Kamsar to go to.  Thank you that we have solar panels, tv’s, and computers.  Thank you, God, for blessing us with family and friends to spend time with.  Thank you for giving us good health and freedom.  Thank you, Lord, for your many blessings and the joy that fills our hearts.  Help us to have positive attitudes and to see the good in all you’ve given to us.  Help us to use our time wisely and productively, to enjoy rest, but also to develop our spirits and our minds in ways that would be honoring to you.  Give us creativity, Lord, to spend quality time as a family.  Draw us closer to one another and closer to you.  Amen.

     On another note, this last week I started meeting with the neighbor girls.  Their family gave me permission to teach them Bible stories and some French.  At this point only the oldest girl, Fatou, is going to school.  The other two, Fatoumata and Dima (about 9 and 6 years old, respectively) stay at home and work, carrying buckets of water back and forth from our back yard, doing laundry, and helping our neighbor take care of her baby.  I’m not entirely sure why they don’t go to school, but I’m hoping my little lessons will give them some basic form of education and a leg up on life.  Of course my real intention is to share the gospel with them.  We’re working our way up to it using a picture bible that has no words.  It’s slow going as the girls struggle even understanding French.  Fatoumata understands the most out of the three, but even that is pretty meager. 

     Isabella has joined me for a couple of these sessions, and is helpful in providing an example of repeating phrases and imitating motions.  Since the girls have never been in school they don’t even have a concept of simple classroom routines.  You can tell Dima especially isn’t used to sitting still for very long, as her attention is constantly pulled to anything else that is moving.  Still, the girls are always eager to come over.  They have started drifting over now each afternoon just to see if we will have class or not.  As part of our time, Isa and I have also been teaching them basic games and songs, trying to recapture at least a piece of their childhood.  I can’t imagine growing up without learning those basic childhood songs and games that so many of us take for granted.  Yet for them these things are totally foreign and you can tell by their behavior. 

     Jennifer also has made friends with our neighbors.  Her companion is the little baby from next door.  Little Fatou (yes it’s the same name as the girls above, and her mom shares the same name as well) squeals with delight every time Jen walks by.  She’s just learned to walk, and she often escapes and tries to climb over to our side of the yard to play.  Her mom usually comes to get her as fast as she can, but she gets a kick out of telling her friends that her baby is best friends with the fote (white woman).  Last week was a hard week for her too as baby Fatou was going through a very colicky phase.  Every time Jen walked by, mom would run inside to get Fatou just so Jen could hold her for a while.  It seemed to be the only way she could get her to stop crying.  Jen’s also been using these opportunities to pray over the little girl as she can pray in any language she wants and also lay hands on her at the same time.  It’s difficult seeing the little Fatou wearing amulets and strange prayer beads, not knowing what strange spirits may be at work in her life already.  We’ve also heard rumors that the husband hangs out at the bar a lot, drinking and doing drugs.  He’s a really friendly guy but isn’t around much.  Fatou, the mom, is a very somber woman and smiles very seldom.  We’re praying God would give us opportunity to share Christ with them, and we’re trying our best to express His love through simple acts of kindness.

     Finally, this past week one of the elderly women from across the way was telling me her knees really bother her.  I asked if I could pray for her.  She willingly agreed, and when I was finished asked me to come back every day to pray for her again.  Yesterday I went back with the whole family and we all prayed for her again.  This time I told her I pray in the name of Isa el Massih (Jesus the Messiah), who is the son of God.  The only way she is going to be healed is through faith in Him.  She told me she had prayed with the pastor before and apparently is familiar with his church, though there doesn’t seem to be a real understanding of the gospel.  We’re hoping God does something special in her life and that of the whole family. 

   Please, Lord, bless our neighbors.  Bring healing to this woman’s knees so she can walk with you all the days of her life.  Reveal your truth to the little girls, give them a hope and a future in Jesus.  Bless the Coumbassa family as well, and deliver them from folk Islam, any spiritual and religious lies they have believed, as well as the drugs and alcohol that tempts them.  Use us God to share your love and your word with those around us.  Fill us with your Holy Spirit that they might see Christ in us.  Be glorified, Lord Jesus.  Thank you, Father, for giving us the opportunity to speak into these people’s lives and to share your love in this part of the world.  Amen.

October 3rd

     Yesterday was the grand 54^th Anniversary of Independence Day  of Guinea.  Cees invited Jen, Andres, and I to join him and his landlord to go into town to see the celebrations.  After dropping the kids off with Diana and her kids, we drove through Correrah to the river.  There we embarked on a “pirogue” (dug-out canoe) to cross to the other side.  After a temporary delay by some soldiers (apparently it’s illegal to photograph the military) we hiked up the hill past the local garbage dump into the center of town.  We then followed our guide (Cees’ landlord) to try to find a good viewpoint where we could watch the parade.  Unfortunately there didn’t seem to be any good point to view it from.  The place was jam-packed.  Guinea’s idea of a parade, at least one in Boke, is to demolish a string of buildings therefore creating enough space for a plaza, to set up a grand stand to seat all the dignitaries, and then to have the parade pass by the grandstand, make a quick loop through the plaza and end.  This means literally hundreds of thousands of people were all crowded around the perimeter of the plaza trying to get a glimpse what was happening in the center. 

     So finally we thought we had found a good spot to watch from, aided by the fact that our guide found a rock that Jen could stand on.  This spot also happened to be right on the edge of a main walk way where old widows came by carrying handheld megaphones.  Their fundraising strategy is to yell at you through the megaphone until you give in to peer pressure and give them money.  Apparently it’s more effective if they travel in groups too.  So you have five or six women all yelling at you from their megaphones until you give in.  Thankfully Cees was apparently in a generous mood and had a stash of cash in his pocket just for the occasion.  But these weren’t the only people stopping by to ask for money.  We also had some clowns, musicians, and kids.  And of course, more groups of widows.  Cees appeased them all with a joke and some cash.

     Eventually, some activity other than the beggars caught our attention.  The president arrived.  I didn’t exactly see him through the crowd, but we could tell it was him by the cars, the choppers, and everyone craning their necks, standing on each other’s shoulders, and employing any and all means to get a glimpse of him.  I think Jen spotted him from her rock.  This was also about the time that some bright young man decided to climb onto the roof of the nearby store.  After about twenty or so other bright young men decided to join him, the roof collapsed and nearly smashed the crowd below.  The good news from this was that there was now more rubble for people to stand on. 

     Then the parade began, not just once, however, but three or four times.  The reason we could tell was that the people in the grandstand stood up and cheered three or four times but then nothing else would happen.  Finally, after a few false starts the parade did begin in earnest.  I got some good glimpses of it by holding the digital camera up above the crowd, but that’s when the crowd began to push against the military so they could get a better view.  The soldiers tried pushing them back, literally shoving them off the edges of the plaza and beating them with their belts.  Things started to get rough (and hot) so we decided to move on to try to find a better view.  The view we eventually found wasn’t much better and indeed the crowd there was getting more restless too.  Suddenly, a gang of celebrants decided to form a parade of their own, pushing their way through the crowd going nowhere in particular, like a conga line only five or six people wide.  The crowd pushed back.  Things got intense.  We left.

     All in all it was definitely a learning experience.  Jennifer especially was able to make lots of interesting observations, including taking notes on some really interesting make-up and hair styles—many of the women here choose to wear wigs, and no one has a problem painting on eyebrows.  I didn’t quite have the courage to take any close up pictures of these, but it’s the first time I’ve seen blondes, brunettes and red heads with such dark skin.  Actually, now that I think about, the hairdos and outfits were probably the most interesting things I saw in all of this.  Even the bits and pieces of the parade seemed to be pretty plain, mostly schools and companies walking by in their official uniforms.  And to top it all off, on our way back to the boats Cees stopped a bit to talk to some acquaintances.  When he caught up with us, he told us he had just seen the President.  Sure enough he had a picture to prove it.  There was the President of Guinea, special guest to the little tiny town of Boke, walking out of the building we had just passed by only two minutes earlier.

  Later that night I spoke with one of the other missionaries who had gone down town to see the celebrations.  “How did it go?” I asked.  “Great,” he said.  “I definitely wouldn’t want to do that every week, or maybe even ever again, but I just had to do it.”  That pretty much sums it up for me too.  I probably don’t ever want to do that again, but I was glad I did it.

 P.S.  (can I write a post script at the end of a blog?) the best part of having the President visit your district, more than the freshly painted rocks on the side of the road, is that the water is turned on 24/7.   Today at 5 o’clock, Jen announced, “the President is gone!”  Indeed, the water was off.  It was nice while it lasted, though.

P.P.S.  I haven’t posted anything on the blog for a while because we haven’t had good internet lately, probably due to the increased visitors in Boke.  Andres has been talking with a guy from the cell company; they are supposed to install a new internet service and give us special routers that will enable us to have wireless in our home.  We’re praying this happens soon, but so far we’re afraid to get our hopes up too high.  The guy also seems to be ignoring Andres’ phone calls.  Thanks for your patience.  Please pray that God would increase ours, and pray that this dream would become reality.  Thanks!

Money and More Important Matters

     We have a saying in English, “when you gotta go, you gotta go.”  In Guinea apparently the motto is, “when you gotta go, just go.” 

     Last week I was surprised when one of the young girls going to get water suddenly dropped her skirt and urinated right on the main path to the faucet.  We’ve seen plenty of guys peeing on the side of the road (this is common both in Panama and Africa, though apparently in Africa you don’t even have to move off the side of the road), but never girls and never right in our backyard on the main trail that people walk on every day to get their drinking water, cooking water, bathing water, laundry water, etc…  I was even more shocked, however, when one of the grown women did it the next day.  She was nice enough to move behind the nearest tree, but apparently, “when you gotta go, just go.”  I’m thinking this is a principle we need to teach our family.  I’m pretty sure Abi wouldn’t have a problem with it.  Already she runs into the school bathroom, takes care of business, and runs out without her pants on.  For Nathanael too, this isn’t too far from his roots.  There was a time in Panama when he would actually choose to walk out the front door, pee off the patio and then come back inside.   I’m not sure how Jen will handle it though…

   On to money matters:  one of the big adjustments to daily life in Guinea has been the money.  Little did I know, but I am now a millionaire.  The reason is that the exchange rate here is about 7,000 Guinean Francs to every dollar.  If this isn’t enough, the banks here prefer to hold onto the big bills and usually dole out their cash in 5,000 increments—the largest bill I’ve seen so far is a 10,000. Imagine paying for your groceries using only ones or quarters.  But it’s like that for every purchase you make.  This means when we walk out the door to run errands, our pockets are bulging.  In fact, I no longer carry a wallet; I just carry my backpack around.  And since we’re still new, every time I make a purchase I’m constantly counting out each bill, trying to figure out if I’ve got it right.  I feel like such a snob pulling out these huge wads of cash just to buy a few boxes of cereal. Yet somehow I always feel like I’m being taken advantage of cause I usually have to ask the vendor to make sure I’ve counted the right amount.   And the worst part of it is that most wads of bills are incredibly dirty and old; definitely not a good place to be germaphobic.  And if you’re saying, ‘why doesn’t the guy just use his credit or debit card’, the simple answer is that credit card machines are non-existent here.  I haven’t seen one place yet that accepts a credit card, not even when we were in Conakry.  Paying for it on your visa is indeed, priceless.  And Master Card is not truly everywhere I want to be (or is that American Express?). 

    The other part to the money system is that some places you can bargain with the vendors, some places you can’t.  I’m still figuring out where it’s acceptable to negotiate and where I need to just let it drop.  For example, when paying for general groceries in the store, prices are fixed.  But when I go next door to buy a bath rug, bargaining is accepted.  Sodas bought on the street, the price is fixed.  Vegetables in the market you can negotiate for.  For the most part I’m pretty good at the bargaining and enjoy the process.  In some ways bargaining is a test of a person’s intelligence and will.  Someone who is too soft and gives in too easily can lose respect as they’re considered bad businessmen and too easy to push around.  On the other hand, someone who drives a hard bargain and can bring a vendor close to their bottom line price earns respect and is considered savy and strong. 

     For example, today I went out shopping for soccer equipment.  I wrestled with the vendor for about 20 minutes, trying to buy a larger quantity of balls for a nice low price.  We went back and forth for some time, he trying to tell me that long term it was better for him to hold out for higher prices, me trying to convince him that a larger amount from me today was more secure than waiting for hypothetical business later on.  In the end he gave in and gave me the deal I was wanting, but he concluded by declaring that we were now friends.  The implication of course is that I’ll return to his store next time I need something, but I earned his friendship by driving him down to a “friend’s” price.  I’m sure most times this is still the white friend’s price, but I think I’m getting better at this and developing relationships in the process. 

     So the moral to the story is, if you gotta go, just go, but don’t forget to take a wad of paper with you.

     On another note, the Snetselaars arrived back this week from Holland.  It will be interesting to see how our school dynamics change with Jesse in the mix.  I’m a little worried that Nathanael will get left out now that Pablo’s best friend is back.  Diana and Andres have also told us they’ve had talks with Pablo, reminding him not to leave Nathanael out, but this was in fact the case when we had our luncheon on Friday.  While the kids were all playing, Nat came and told me that the other boys weren’t playing with him.  It’s hard cause the other boys are used to each other, they are older, and Nathanael is often more reserved.  He also tends to do better with just one friend, not always knowing how to play with bigger groups. 

     Finally, this week is the country’s independence day, on October 2nd.  As part of a political move to gain favor with this district, the President has chosen Boke as the site where he will spend the celebrations.  The town has been working fervently to get everything ready for his arrival, putting in new street lights (solar powered), clearing out space for a town plaza, and building new guest hotels for all the visitors.  This weekend the military also moved in and have blocked off the main road through town.  Unfortunately all of the expats and missionaries seem to be more fearful of these events.  Part of it is due to the protests last week in Conakry.  The two main political parties have been fighting again, and two people were killed, so people are worried that some of this will spill over here.  The other part is that there are so many “strangers” in town.  Boke is usually a small, quiet town, but with all this attention and activity lots of people also means lots of thieves, vandals, etc…  And the military doesn’t seem to offer much comfort as they have a reputation for bullying people into giving things. We’re told they are more interested in seeing what they can get for themselves than in actually protecting the interests of the people.  So we’ve been instructed to sit tight and try not to go through town too much.  This is a shame as we would love to be able to see how Guineans celebrate their 4^th of July.  I think there’s a possibility that we might still go into town and check things out early on Tuesday.  Andres and I might go see if it is safe and then bring our families later if things look ok.  Either way we have a day off to rest and relax. 

     “Thank you, Lord for your provision for our family.  Thank you that we have always had everything we need and more.  I pray God that you would help our school to transition well with the addition of Jesse.  Help us to be able to teach him and help him, and help him to adapt well to our routines.  Please help Nathanael not to feel left out.  Help him to be able to mix in well with the older boys and make friends with Jesse too.  Lord, please bless and protect this country as they celebrate their independence.  Please give the leaders of this country wisdom and humility to continue to lead and direct this nation.  Continue to protect the freedom of religion that exists here, so that your people might worship in freedom and continue to spread your truth to all peoples.  And, Lord, please protect us and this city during these celebrations.  Deliver us from all evil and any plans the devil may have to cause chaos, harm, and fear.  May you be glorified in these events.  Amen!”