Journal Entry, January 23rd

It’s 5:30 am and I can’t sleep. Siguiri is silent. I am trying to figure out how to say goodbye.

Yesterday was the day I thought would never happen. I always thought Siguiri was safe and that all people cared about was earning money (not political unrest). I never thought they would actually join in the chaos.

But when I woke up yesterday (our 11th day of standfast), there was a strange electricity in the air. I knew something was wrong, but without knowing exactly what, I instinctively packed my evacuation bag in a frenzy. But when I was done, things were fine – both here and in Conakry, as my APCD told me. So, I started my day as normal. My mom made tea and ate bread. I pulled water from the well. I got beans from my bean lady. I showered. I walked to visit the patriarch of my family, El Hadj.

But the electricity was still there, and everyone felt it. I asked El Hadj about the strike and he answered, “people are going to die today.”

I returned nervous to my house and waited for my fellow volunteer, Rob, to show up, as he had been doing everyday during standfast. I stood by the front gate of my family’s concession and watched for him. He was late.

Then I saw the black smoke and smelled burning rubber. The people of Siguiri had started to protest by marching and burning tires near the market. My family was happy and everyone was dancing in the streets (so typically Malinke). “The strike is working!” they sang.

The protestors had blocked the main streets of the market and a truck was diverted up my dirt street from the paved road to get around the chaos. The people cheered at their own success as the truck passed. Then the women coming back from the market began to run. They were running home with giant baskets balanced on their heads. “What are they hurrying away from?” I asked my family, standing at the door to my concession. But they were too happy to respond.

But where was Rob? I was still watching for him to arrive. “He must have seen the smoke and turned back,” I thought rationally, but I was still worried. What if Rob never made it in today? What about tomorrow? Would he be stranded in Kinniebakoro, or would my mom and I be stranded alone in Siguiri?

Still standing at the gate, I heard my first round of distant gunfire. It was far away, but still frightening. And then we heard a closer round. Too close. Everyone fled the streets. My family and I ran inside and shut and locked the gate. It had begun.

My mom was inside trying to stay calm. We knew it was safe in my house with my family, but the loud gunfire nearby still shook us. My knees wouldn’t really hold me up, and my hands were shaking. The children were terrified and all I could imagine were my friends out there, possibly dying in the streets.

My mom pulled out the Scrabble board, our trusted distraction these last few days, and we tried to play. “Any word related to revolution, 50 extra points,” I joked. B-A-N-G was one of our words as the gunfire continued ceaselessly around my home.

After a couple of hours, it slowed down. 2 people had been killed, the city had been ravaged, and everyone was still scared.

Right before sunset, Haidja was going to try to go to the market. We hadn’t heard anything in hours, and some people were out on the streets again. Everything seemed calm, so I decided to go with her. On our way out the door, we heard gunfire again, so our excursion was cancelled and we went back to safety.

It had been a stressful day, but it did finally quiet down. My mom and I were processing all that had happened, when the phone rang. “You know the trip we were planning for your birthday to Mali?” Reid asked. “We might be going a bit sooner than expected.” My body tightened up, my throat closed, and tears filled my eyes. “How early?” I asked. “Maybe Wednesday or Thursday,” he answered. We were to be evacuated.

I have packed my bag already. I am ready to go. I just don’t know how I am going to tell my family.

It is still dark outside. The first prayer call of the morning has been shouted from the mosque. And the gunfire has already started. Probably to scare people. To keep them inside today. I don’t want to leave my life here, but right now, I am not sure I can make it through another day like yesterday.

And I am still not sure where Rob is.