My New Best Friend

Today I decided to try the bus system and went on a little trip to the sea, a long strip of sand housing numerous little fishing boats. This Sunday morning the place was empty and quiet, a perfect spot for a  contemplative mind and restless feet.
As I was walking along I caught up with a young man doing his Sunday promenade on the beach. I greeted him and we both stopped in our tracks, curious to find out what had brought another soul to such a desolate place. I offered him some water, sat down in the moist sand and a very interesting conversation begun. As he shared his story I was amazed at his courage and spirit. His name is Nicolas and he is my new best friend. Now I need to find him a phone so that I can call him and tell him good morning and good evening and ask him what he had for dinner; because when you are best friends, those things matter.

All Love

Flying African

A few days ago I left Sweden, travelling by air to Pointe Noire in Congo to join the ship. Now, I was flying over night and had a connection flight from Addis Ababa in Ethiopia. This is the story...

It was with sleepy steps I made my way through the airport only to get stuck in the queue to security. As I reached the desk I was suddenly struck by an immense sense of nausea and almost threw up in the security box. It was with wobbly steps I managed to drag my faint self away, and once I recovered I discovered that cold sweating doesn't make a cold waiting hall any more comfortable. As I was sitting there shivering I counted down the minutes until I could finally board the flight to Congo. Well, I was to discover flying African can be unreliable.

First of all, they didn't start boarding the planes until the said departure time. Secondly, most planes seemed to board from the same gate, no matter which gate was displayed at the screen, causing passengers to rush through the waiting hall in order to catch their flights. When the time had finally come for us to board we were told to sit down and wait. Instead they boarded the plane to Togo. We waited as our flight was delayed one hour. The next thing we knew, our flight was removed from the screen and people went up to query what was happening. Our flight reappeared, delayed yet another hour, and I was devastated. At that point I was both cold and hungry, nodding off from lack of sleep during the previous flight. As I looked up again I discovered our plane had been delayed a third time, and I decided to join the group of unsettled passengers gathering near the desk by the gate. No available planes they said, and we all wondered what the planes fully visible outside the windows were being used for. They said we might have to switch airlines, and asked us to wait another twenty minutes in order for them to sort things out. Then our flight was removed from the screen again - cancelled, they said. At that point we were all cold, hungry and moody, and upset passengers started shouting at the staff, demanding to see the manager. It all got really feisty, and once the manager finally came around a mob of twenty angry African men literally cornered him and shouted at him in various dialects for a good few minutes. The next thing we heard, there would be a plane ready and fuelled up within 38 minutes. And wouldn't you know it, after about 40 minutes we got told we could start boarding, and we all rushed through the gate like it was a race for life or death, eager to get a seat on that plane.

All in all our flight was delayed 5 hours, but then, at least we got there in the end. Uncivilised perhaps, but effective - I am grateful to the men that dared to threaten the airport manager in order to get us a plane to Pointe Noire that day!

All Love

There Is No Shame Between Sisters

I dedicate this blog post to my two wonderful sisters Rut and Sara. 

Being a woman, I count myself truly blessed having sisters. Sisters, whether linked by blood or not, are treasured people who know more about us than we would ever like to be revealed to the world. They have endured our most longwinded stories, seen us at our most pathetic moments, and they have encouraged us tirelessly. They are always ready with advice, being it on the subject of relationships, career, or body-related issues. There is no shame between sisters. When I fear condemnation by the rest of the world, when I have problems I am too ashamed to confess - it is to my sisters I come. With my beloved two I have laughed so hard my urethral sphincter has struggled to keep tight. We've sung along with the most cheesy songs, many times combined with interpretive dancing and various utensils as props. Together we have thrown every stitch of clothing, breasts and bottoms wobbling as we've run toward the waterline over cliffs, jetties and beaches. There have been movie nights, massage nights and girl talk nights. I believe there are no words to fully express how much my sisters actually mean to me and how much I treasure our moments together. 

Within the last month I have seen both of my sisters getting married, and it brought me such joy being able to see my beloved two dance in the arms of the men they both spent so many years speculating and dreaming about.

I love you more than you know

All Love

God is so Good

This evening many people were going out to one of the popular restaurants/bars here in Conakry, and despite many invitations I decided to stay on the ship. I didn't really know what to do and didn't really have any peace so I decided to pick up my guitar and go down to the dock to play and ponder. As my regular spot was taken I decided to walk a little further and got called over by one of the dock workers. He asked me to teach him to play and sing, and I agreed to teach him to sing a song in French. He and his friends placed a mat on the ground for me to sit on and I started teaching them a song from my very limited French repertoire. One of the guys then wanted to teach me how to sing it in Fula and they wrote out the words for me to learn. The song in English goes like this:

You are bigger than what people say, 

Jehova, bigger than what people say. 

You are excellent, you are marvellous, 

you are bigger than what people say.

This led on to a conversation about God, and as these muslim men started mentioning their prophets I got to share with them what Jesus means to me. I told them how my sins are so great no sheep could make me worthy to stand before a holy God and how Jesus is the one sacrifice that is able to pay the debt I owe. We talked about forgiveness and how hoarding unforgiveness is like carrying around a heavy backpack, how God ordered us to do good to one another and how to fight evil. We talked about paradise and judgement and hypocrisy. After some time curfew called me back to the ship, and I left my eight new friends with a promise to come back Monday to continue the conversation. Before I left I was given a couple of mangoes and a Bob Marley hat (in return I gave the guy my silk scarf, which looked surprisingly good on him), then returned to the ship thanking God for such an unexpected evening. God is good.

All Love

Fouta Djallon

So I had a week off work and decided to head upcountry to explore more of Guinea. After some security checks I packed my rucksack, invited Jesus along and set off. Here's a day by day summary of my week.

Monday
I got a taxi from Conakry heading to Labé, a town in the Fouta Djallon region of Guinea. It was a 10 hour long journey with various stops for prayer, food and engine trouble. I found myself crammed between a bigger lady and a small man, falling asleep on the poor guy's shoulder every now and again as the sun went down. We arrived in Labé around 11pm and a friend of mine from the region directed me to a decent hotel where I had a good night's sleep.

Ready for bed after a long taxi ride

Tuesday
Had Foude, a local guide, take me on a day's tour around the region on his motorbike. Up mountains, through small villages and visiting waterfalls. Best moment must have been climbing down the waterfall for a refreshing swim. I also made him to climb some rocks with me, and he proudly lifted me up wherever I couldn't reach, proving that he was stronger than he looked. Before heading back we also went to a small village to greet his family. Once we returned to the hotel I was exhausted after the long and bumpy motorbike ride, although I have to say I thoroughly enjoyed it.

Me and Foude on top of the rocks

Climbing waterfalls

No way we weren't going in!

Wednesday
Took a taxi to Matakao to experience some village life, a rickety minivan travelling a dirt road in terrible condition. Before we took off I had bought a scarf, as I felt silly being the only woman without a headpiece, and as I put it on everyone started laughing and called me married woman. Maybe I chose the wrong model... It took us 6 hours to reach the village, although somewhere along the way we had a breakdown with a boiling engine and had to sit and wait for the van to get cleared out of smoke and steam. As we arrived and they found out I didn't know anybody in the village I was immediately introduced to some important people, given a good meal and housing. I was offered to stay with Rougiatou, the chief director over the educational system in the area, and although I was offered other housing with indoor toilet and electricity I felt it was the right thing to stay with her.

The Suprefet and Rougiatou

Thursday
The weekly market of the village, lots of activity and noises and smells (I was especially fascinated by the man chopping away at a cow skull). Rougiatou took me to the health clinic to let me see how they work there. I saw a few malaria cases, some malnutrition, general aches and pregnancy checks. They asked me to stay and work with them, but I kindly declined with the excuse that I was needed back on the ship, which they accepted. Rougiatou took me around on the back of her motorbike and visited various people and had several meetings. In the evening I went for a small hike around the outskirts of the village, gave some health advice and had a good evening chat under a clear starlit sky. I also discovered that fresh cow milk mixed with overcooked rice, sugar and mayonnaise doesn't suit my taste buds.

Thursday Market

The health clinic of the village

The examination soom

Out on a hike

Friday
Went to visit the other regions of the village, greeted sweet old ladies and curious children and ate lots of weird fruit. Witnessed Rougiatous and the Suprefets act of blessing, feeding the local children, which led to a conversation about religion. The Suprefet told me that if I married him (which he had been suggesting since our first meeting) I would have to convert to Islam, and I told him that would never happen. At sunset I went out for a walk and came back to the house to had a good talk with Rougiatou about life and dreams; I praised her hospitality and she praised my contentment. Before we went to bed I prayed a prayer of blessing over her and her family.

Some local girls eating at Rougiatou's place

This was supposed to be a landscape photography...

Saturday
Woke up with a runny stomach, which isn't ideal when looking forward to 6+10 hours of bumpy travelling without toilet facilities. I prayed to God that I would survive the day, and oh praise him, my stomach stayed quiet until I was safe back on the ship. We were 14 people sharing a 7-seater taxi, and I think it was the first time I've seen people sharing the driver's seat. We also had a whole bunch of guys riding on top of the car and I had to watch out that their feet didn't hit me in the head as we bumped along. In Labé I contacted Foude, who found me in a shack eating mango with a carpenter, and he took me on a tour around the city. I bought some more scarfs, we all shared a big platter of chicken and chips, and at night I took the taxi back to Conakry.

Rough roads

All in all it was a good holiday. It was what one can expect; beautiful landscapes, outdoor showers, eating and drinking with the locals, squatty toilets, cooking over open fire, greeting the elders, playing with the children, marriage proposals, motorbikes and crowded taxis. Generally, I found that Africa isn't that exotic after all, it's same but different; we have diseases, we all eat and drink, pee and poop, there is beauty and ugliness. We share the same feelings, we joke and we cry. Africa is also ordinary.


All Love

The Retreat

After 4 night shifts and huge lack of sleep I decided to take a little retreat to Coyah, roughly 2 hours away from town. I phoned up a contact I have there and headed off to nature, peace and tranquility. I stayed in a hotel surrounded by mountains and streams and got there on the back of Sadou's motorbike. My room was lovely and the food was great; I had everything I needed right there.

After a nap I went out for a walk along the stream and came across some local kids playing in the water. After much persuasion I left my dress on the rocks and joined in, to their very delight. After some splashing around I said goodbye and continued my walk, four waving kids behind me. But the goodness didn't stop there. Later I discovered the pure pleasure of racing through the night, empty streets and dark landscapes, the cool air refreshing on bare skin. Motorbikes are mighty fine sometimes! I went to bed that night only to wake up to the most wonderful morning I've had in a long time. I spent the morning snoozing; free to spread out on a wide bed, sunshine streaming through the curtains and the tune of Roxette's Milk and Toast and Honey playing as I slowly prepared myself on starting a new day. After a cold, refreshing bucket shower I sat down on a sunny porch with some mango, ready for a date with God. A good quiet time and a lovely brunch and I was ready to head back to the busy life in Conakry; well fed, well rested and well inspired.

All Love

Touring the Islands

Last week I took a boat over to the islands to do a tour around all the villages together with Blo, the youth president of the islands. Over two days we visited three islands and seven villages, greeted hundreds of people and walked many miles. Everywhere we went I could hear "fotey" being called out from a distance as the children couldn't hide their excitement over encountering this funny-looking pale foreigner; for many it was the first time they met a white person. I ate the food they ate, we drank water from the same bucket and fresh fruit was given to me by the villagers on a regular basis, eaten unwashed with skin on. It's a wonder my stomach remained strong through the whole visit.

Some of the highlights:
The many boat rides to and from the islands
Taking bucket showers outdoors
The big fat scary centipede in my squatty potty. It didn't appreciate getting pissed on and I was quick to get out of there!
Visiting the light house and signing a guest book from 1936
A little girl falling asleep in my lap
The many shared meals and cups of tea mixed with conversations about God, life and love

All Love