May 30 -rain

May 30
It is the rainy season again at last. And they are beautiful, the rains and the skies they come out of. Partly, I think, because they are often sudden and violent. The beauty combined with a small inward rush of fear is an experience more intense than the usual. Everywhere thunderstorms are dramatic, but maybe even more so here. I can feel excitement and nervousness gather in my stomach as thunder rumbles and then crack! as the lightning splits the sky, turned abnormal shades of color.
Today as the sound of the storm is slowly building I look up to a sky of a uniform dark, hazy blue. Just a minute later I look up again to find what had been a solid slate of pure color forming into layers of fierce-seeming clouds. The wind picks up and starts lashing the palms back and forth, and finally a few drops start falling. First big, fat drops that you can almost count and see making their individual impressions on the ground, now grown polka-dotted. Then changing into a fine mist, blown strongly, slanting, chasing me farther onto the porch. Steadily gathering strength until now it is pouring down, turning foot-paths into small streams. All occasionally lit up by jagged, pinkish bolts of lightning. Now the rain is so heavy that it is hard to see through, and beyond a certain distance, all is just a grayish light.
Loving it and knowing its general nature, how can a storm still have the power to terrify a little? Maybe just the incredible size and speed, the power of it, is what scares us. Or the way we have been rushed inside out of them, effectively running away from them, all our lives. And the sound of thunder, low and rumbling like a predatory growl, as if we were about to be attacked.

journal entries during strike drama

background:
there was a general strike in february/march that started with contracted teachers and spread to basically everyone, not only government workers but even taxi drivers and store owners. in the bigger towns, life stopped. you could not go anywhere or buy anything. in the villages, life went on mostly as usual except that you couldn't travel. the strike ended with government promises to double salaries.
then in early june, another strike. the government did not double the salaries, and so the teachers union started the whole thing over again. planned to go general on Monday the 5th, it finally did start on Thursday the 8th and went on for 10? days (or so). because end-of-year tests and etc. were not happening, there were student riots in Conakry and the major cities. gendarmes (police) shot into crowds of protesters, killing about 20. over Friday the 16th, with promises (again) of doubled salaries as well as prince controls on gasoline and rice.

June 5
Heard from Rachel that we were on "stand fast" for the duration of the strike, which was supposed to go general today. Tried to radio but no luck. Sometimes I feel as though I'm watching a revolution develop from the inside. Spiraling inflation and civil unrest, frequent turnovers of top government officials. I hope that is the case, that dissatisfaction will lead to some kind of action here rather than continued paralysis.

June 14
Monday night the BBC was saying that at least ten people had been killed in student riots in Conakry. On the radio Ousmane said that 10-14 in Conakry and 4 in Labe. How awful is it that my first emotion was a little thrill of excitement and adrenaline? Even knowing that it is ridiculous, immature and unfeeling to see this situation as romantic or exciting, I can't totally suppress that reaction. Tuesday night the BBC said 17 dead in Conakry but a few stores open again. Today Ousmane says that it seems to be calming down. I only hope that all momentum for change is not lost.

June 17
Mixed reports on the strike -- the principal of the college says it's over while Boubakar insists that it isn't. Not having successfully radio-ed since Wednesday I'm out of the loop. A teacher/photographer gave me the impression that the government has offered concessions but not to be delivered until July 1. This stinks of empty promises made only to get the tests out of the way, so maybe the teachers will not accept? So far the BBC isn't helping me out...

June 18
At least two people said to me yesterday that if this strike is not settled it will mean a civil war. Obviously that is a bit exaggerated, but eventually if this doesn't work I suppose it will lead to more and more violent protests. But their words, "civil war," stopped me cold. Is that what Guinea is headed for? I've always thought of revolution, the people against the established power. Is that all they mean, a war within the country? To me, a civil war means different groups within the population struggling against each other, most likely exploited and set against each other by various power-hungry leaders. Are there groups that could be used like that in Guinea? At first glance, no. Guineans as a rule are peaceful and forgiving. The largest ethnic groups are so inter-mixed and tolerant of each other. But on closer inspection, maybe it is possible. There are old tensions and resentments far below the surface, mostly between the Peuls and all the other peoples that they pushed out, killed, or forcibly converted to Islam. But are they any more culpable than other groups, who probably did the same thing longer ago? Or are they just the most recent conquerers? (outside of the French)

update: all is calm. couldn't say if that is good or not or if it will stay that way. exams were re-scheduled and happened last week, so at least students are happy.

June 14 - lonely

in case anyone is wondering why some of these sound like they're written from site, it is because they are journal entries dredged up for the blog when i get to the capital:

June 14
Today was a lonely one in the small ways that are hard to explain to anyone who hasn't lived alone somewhere very far from their idea of home. Spending a few hours this afternoon with two sisters that I"m friends with -- maybe I should be flattered, but for whatever reason they have stopped speaking mostly in French when I am around. Certainly my Pulaar isn't good enough to follow most of or contribute to a normal conversation. Bouncing between earnestly listening for the fragments that I do understand and daydreaming when I lose the will to focus... Watching them talk and joke and laugh on a gray rainy day I wanted nothing more than to be somewhere with my own family talking and laughing Just relaxing and communicating without really trying. Sometimes laughing at the things they'e saying and sometimes at the incomparable way that they say them. And understanding each other without any barriers in between, not searching for words or ways to translate experiences while simultaneously censoring them or fishing for small talk that is worth the effort of pronouncing it. I would like to be talking to my brother in some kind of warmly-colored restaurant booth after dark, feeling cozy and companianable.

here comes the rain?

lately whenever it starts to rain the Beatles song "Here Comes the Sun" pops into my head. isn't that ironic, don't you think?