So Much to Update You About

Not to toot my own horn, but I was the third overall pick in the 2016 G29 Peace Corps Host Family Draft; never mind that it was a random drawing. The ceremony was amazing. A band of drummers and professional dancers came to MC the occasion. The style of music the drummers made is how your mind, right now, is imagining it. They produced a melodic cacophony of rapid, rhythmic beats attuned to an African style. The dancers were unbelievable. Their motions were wild and ostentatious. The best way to describe their movement was as if their bodies flowed in fluid irregularity; a perfect juxtaposition to the fast drumming. All of us volunteers danced with them as well, but only just for fun. A handful of hippy white people certainly cannot compete with the rhythm of professional African dancers. Oh and the day was perfect too. It was hot, of course, but that is expected during the dry season; at least there was a persistent breeze to cool our sweat.

When they called my name and then the name of my new family, it was a moment of great excitement and apprehension all rolled into one, for both sides. What were any of us able to expect? When I sat with my host family they immediately told me in French my new name, Ousmane Soumah, the same name as one of my new little brothers who is about five, six years old. For host families in Guinea, changing the names of their host children is commonplace. They do this because in this country, ones name holds a lot of meaning, and a lot of value. When I tell people I’m a Soumah, they immediately link me to dozens of others within the village. It is both a prestige thing for my host family, and a way of keeping me safe for me.

I am not going to lie; the first night with my host family was extremely awkward. Duolingo was a liar saying that I was fifty percent fluent in French. Not only that, but the adults in my family almost entirely insisted upon speaking Susu, a language only spoken in the coastal region of Guinea, and a language in which I only know like three expressions in.

However, I am amazed how quickly my French has progressed. In only two short days I am already able to express most of my thoughts and even understand the speech of many others in my village. And let’s be honest, in this country, learning the language is either do or die. Almost no one speaks English here, so if I want to survive, I must become fluent. There is no other way around it.

It is amazing how autonomous children are in this culture. Children as little as four or five years old walk themselves to school and can basically wander around the village with little supervision from their parents. This is probably the case because of a few reasons. Firstly, the parents are always busy. The father typically works during most of the day, and the mother is busy with domestic chores such as cooking and cleaning. With their technology, the simplest tasks become long and monotonous. All they have at their disposal is separate fires to boil their water and other ingredients, basic tools, and simple spices.

Also attributing to why children are largely autonomous is because this country basically governs itself at the local level. Of course Guinea has a centralized government with federal laws, but it is hard to consistently enforce things with their lack of infrastructure. Since small communities basically govern themselves, it has given Guinea surprisingly low crime rates. Guinea culture is definitely one of saving face. Since everyone knows each other, if they see you doing something morally wrong, they will let your familial elders know. Honor is the sword and shield that protects this society.

My little host brother, mon petit frère, who bares the same name as me, Ousmane Soumah, is absolutely adorable. He has the number one smile out of everyone in the village, never mind that his teeth are large and crooked every which way. He also possesses gigantic, cartoony eyes! It’s as if he has jumped out of a Disney movie!

Ousmane has basically become my second shadow. Where ever I am in the village he somehow finds me. On many occasions during these last few days I feel a random hand grabbing mine and it is almost always Ousmane’s. In this culture, hand holding is a sign of friendship. Even the manliest men can be seen holding each other’s hands.

I have found that children are instrumental in understanding new environments because they are never busy, always willing to help, and are fascinated by a Fauté (their version of a gringo). It can be hard to get around, however, because mobs of children are always attached to me as I walk, but it is convenient to give a child a couple cents to go on errands for you. It’s like I have hundreds of really tiny servants.

Ousmane has basically been my guardian, so to speak. He watches over my belongings when we are out in public and lets me know where everything is. He doesn’t talk much, but that’s just because he’s shy. I remember yesterday when I was about to cross the street, I felt his little hand press against my thigh, as if he was trying to save me from oncoming traffic. There was no traffic, but I appreciated the sentiment.

Last night I attended my first Guinean dance party which I kind of stumbled into. Ousmane, of course, was with me and I asked him, “Ousmane, T’aime danse?” And he responded with, “je ne peut pas danser.” What a little liar. He is a dancing machine! He even taught me a few new moves. The party was probably one of the best experiences I have had so far in Guinea. The DJ was a beast! American clubs need to reach out and hire this guy because he could hype up even the driest crowds. There were a couple of Guinean rappers as well; if only I could have understood what they were saying. My fellow volunteers and I were the center of attention. The DJ constantly called us out to the dance floor for dance battles. It was very interesting in the way this party was MC’ed. The whole night was basically a friendly competition between families. I believe I represented the Soumah’s well.

Since my window of internet access is small, I am going to list a bunch of other things that I have yet to cover in the future.

Constant marriage proposals, shopping in markets, how trash is managed, the importance of livestock, lack of privacy, living conditions, everyone in my large host family, and the hole in the ground that is known as my “bathroom.”

A bientot!