I am no longer a Peace Corps volunteer. I had waited so long to become a PCV, and now it's over. In a flash, it all disappeared. I finished up medical yesterday, my DOS and everything else today. And then I said good-bye to all of my amazing friends here. Now, I wait for my bus. It's over.
At least I have something good to look forward to. Slowly, we have been worki ng back towards the developed world. First we upgraded from Guinea to Mali. Tonight, I am flying from Bamako to Morocco with Reid and Sarah for 12 days. Another step up. After that, Reid and I are off to Spain for 10 days of so. And then, home to Denver.
I am not sure if I am ready for it or not.
But a good shower and comfy bed sure does sound nice. It's been quite a year.
Wednesday, February 21
Sunday, February 18
Take a Peek
The following statement comes from Omali Yeshitela, Chairman of the Interim Committee of the African Socialist International (ASI). The ASI has as its historical mission the unification and liberation of Africa under an all-African socialist government under the leadership of the African working class and poor peasantry. The ASI calls on all who receive this document to forward it to as many contacts as possible and distribute it around the world in order to lend support to the just struggles on the ground in Guinea-Conakry, West Africa.
http://www.indybay.org/newsitems/2007/02/16/18364399.php
Discuss amongst yourselves.....
http://www.indybay.org/newsitems/2007/02/16/18364399.php
Discuss amongst yourselves.....
Tuesday, February 13
Martial Law Declared
Guinea's military enforce martial law to end unrest
By Mohamed Camara CONAKRY, Feb 13 (Reuters)
Guinea's military clamped a security lock on the capital Conakry and other towns on Tuesday after President Lansana Conte declared martial law in the West African state to stamp out violent protests against his rule.
Heavily armed soldiers and police patrolled the largely deserted streets of the dilapidated seaside capital, enforcing a strict curfew that will only allow people out of their homes for four hours, between 4 p.m. and 8 p.m. Residents said they saw truckloads of helmeted troops in camouflage fatigues heading out of the city. Other major towns, such as Kankan and Nzerekore in the east, were also reported to be under tight military control.
"There is heavy deployment of soldiers at crossroads, controls have been stepped up," said one Conakry resident, who asked not to be named. Conte went on state TV and radio on Monday night to announce the military crackdown, which will last until Feb. 23. It was aimed at quelling a wave of riots and looting across the country that accompanied the relaunch by unions on Monday of a general strike opposing the president's 23-year rule.
Union leaders say Conte, a reclusive, chain-smoking diabetic in his 70s, is no longer fit to rule Guinea, the world's No. 1 exporter of bauxite. Foreign-run bauxite mining operations have been disrupted by the strike and protests. At least nine people were killed in clashes between protesters and security forces on Monday.
This brought to more than 110 the number of people killed since early January in union-led protests against Conte. The martial law decree gives sweeping powers to the military, which has backed Conte since he took over in a 1984 coup, to arrest anyone suspected of threatening state security.
The measures also forbid all public meetings and empower the military to censor newspapers and all radio and television broadcasts. The army can also monitor private communications, such as telephone calls, faxes and emails.
PERSECUTION FEARS
Union and opposition leaders said they were being watched and feared persecution. "There's no mediation right now. We're on the look-out because in a state of siege, the only order is military order ... we're all under surveillance at home," said union negotiator Ousmane Souare.
Unions resumed the nationwide stoppage after Conte named a close ally, Eugene Camara, as prime minister on Friday. Union leaders said this violated a power-sharing deal to end an 18-day strike last month which left more than 90 people dead and tested Conte's grip on power. Opposition leaders said they did not believe the declaration of martial law would stifle the popular pressure for change.
"Either Conte leaves or he names someone else. If he names someone and the people accept, things will calm down," said one political opponent, Mamadou Ba. "I don't think he realises that the crisis needs to be resolved through dialogue," he added. State TV and radio played music and repeated excerpts of the martial law decree announced by Conte, who wore a white robe and white cap during his broadcast.
Conakry residents said the sound of heavy gunfire was heard overnight coming from the November 8 highway bridge that leads into the city's administrative centre. It was not clear what caused the shooting.
By Mohamed Camara CONAKRY, Feb 13 (Reuters)
Guinea's military clamped a security lock on the capital Conakry and other towns on Tuesday after President Lansana Conte declared martial law in the West African state to stamp out violent protests against his rule.
Heavily armed soldiers and police patrolled the largely deserted streets of the dilapidated seaside capital, enforcing a strict curfew that will only allow people out of their homes for four hours, between 4 p.m. and 8 p.m. Residents said they saw truckloads of helmeted troops in camouflage fatigues heading out of the city. Other major towns, such as Kankan and Nzerekore in the east, were also reported to be under tight military control.
"There is heavy deployment of soldiers at crossroads, controls have been stepped up," said one Conakry resident, who asked not to be named. Conte went on state TV and radio on Monday night to announce the military crackdown, which will last until Feb. 23. It was aimed at quelling a wave of riots and looting across the country that accompanied the relaunch by unions on Monday of a general strike opposing the president's 23-year rule.
Union leaders say Conte, a reclusive, chain-smoking diabetic in his 70s, is no longer fit to rule Guinea, the world's No. 1 exporter of bauxite. Foreign-run bauxite mining operations have been disrupted by the strike and protests. At least nine people were killed in clashes between protesters and security forces on Monday.
This brought to more than 110 the number of people killed since early January in union-led protests against Conte. The martial law decree gives sweeping powers to the military, which has backed Conte since he took over in a 1984 coup, to arrest anyone suspected of threatening state security.
The measures also forbid all public meetings and empower the military to censor newspapers and all radio and television broadcasts. The army can also monitor private communications, such as telephone calls, faxes and emails.
PERSECUTION FEARS
Union and opposition leaders said they were being watched and feared persecution. "There's no mediation right now. We're on the look-out because in a state of siege, the only order is military order ... we're all under surveillance at home," said union negotiator Ousmane Souare.
Unions resumed the nationwide stoppage after Conte named a close ally, Eugene Camara, as prime minister on Friday. Union leaders said this violated a power-sharing deal to end an 18-day strike last month which left more than 90 people dead and tested Conte's grip on power. Opposition leaders said they did not believe the declaration of martial law would stifle the popular pressure for change.
"Either Conte leaves or he names someone else. If he names someone and the people accept, things will calm down," said one political opponent, Mamadou Ba. "I don't think he realises that the crisis needs to be resolved through dialogue," he added. State TV and radio played music and repeated excerpts of the martial law decree announced by Conte, who wore a white robe and white cap during his broadcast.
Conakry residents said the sound of heavy gunfire was heard overnight coming from the November 8 highway bridge that leads into the city's administrative centre. It was not clear what caused the shooting.
Saturday, February 10
Guinea in Flames
Last night, the president, Lansana Conte, finally named a new prime minister for Guinea. His choice was Eugene Camara, a long-time friend of his who will never question his actions or actually assert any power. This is basically a slap in the face of the Guinean population, and the people are pissed. Apparently, they are out in the streets again, ready to die for change.
Today, the violence has been worse than the bad day two weeks ago. We are hearing reports of people dying all across the country. I have heard that the people of Siguiri have ransacked the house of the Minster of Finance (who is from my town), people burned a soldier alive who had shot four people in Kankan, and the president's entourage killed a young boy on their way to his hometown.
Doesn't look like we're going back....
BBCNews Article from TodayToday, the violence has been worse than the bad day two weeks ago. We are hearing reports of people dying all across the country. I have heard that the people of Siguiri have ransacked the house of the Minster of Finance (who is from my town), people burned a soldier alive who had shot four people in Kankan, and the president's entourage killed a young boy on their way to his hometown.
Doesn't look like we're going back....
Conakry, 2 weeks ago
"We are ready to die for change."
Wednesday, February 7
Mudcropolis
I am not sure if I am happy or not to be back in the simulated village of Tubaniso outside of Bamako.
Our trip to Djenne and Mopti was amazing, tiring, beautiful, annoying, energizing, and everything in between. On Friday morning, we left before dawn to catch a bus up the main paved road in Mali to the junction with the road to Djenne. This was a novelty to me because in Guinea, we don’t have anything but taxis (painful) and mini-buses (more painful). We were so excited to have our own seats in a bus and be on the road by 7:30, we didn’t realize there was absolutely NO VENTILATION. We were seriously trapped in a moving steamer for 10 hours traveling towards the Sahara. I think I would have preferred a camel. But we made it to the junction and got off the bus (the bus almost drove away with Reid still on) and waited for a couple of hours for our taxi to leave for Djenne. I learned that taxis are just as ghetto here as they are in Guinea when Reid and I stuffed in to share the front seat, but halfway to Djenne, the door flew open and Reid almost fell out. Yay, Africa.
We arrived before sundown, found a hotel, ate, and settled in. We woke up early the next morning for our grand 3 hour tour of the desert town. Djenne is a town made completely out of mudstone, lots of mudstone, and when you walk around, you truly feel transported back in time. Their mosque, the largest mudstone structure in the world, was huge and very impressive. Unfortunately, we “couldn’t” go inside (we could have if we paid the right person enough money), but the architecture was astounding. Guinea has nothing like it. In the afternoon, we took a horse cart out to a Peul village and a Bozo village to see more amazing mud structures and be harassed by more annoying children.
The next day, we took a minibus (more painful) to Mopti, a large port town along the Niger River. This is where the salt arrives from Timbuktu, which of course, made me the happiest person ever. I am officially obsessed with the desert and the camel caravans that transport salt and other goods. The salt has been mined from dried lakes in the Sahara for centuries and transported on the camel caravans to Timbuktu and then sent via boat along the Niger to Mopti. And there I stood, watching boats arrive from Timbuktu unloading slabs of salt. I tasted one. It was a huge dirty chunk of pure salt from the Sahara, transported for hundreds of miles via camel caravan and the river. Guess what it tasted like. Salty. But what an amazing trip that piece of salt made!
Our return trip to Bamako was similarly hot, sweaty, but fast. After a loooong trip to see some mud and taste some salt, I was glad to return back to hot baths and good (free) food. But this week, we are starting our In-Service Training, which means I am going to be sitting in 100 degree heat being trained on things that I may never be able to put into practice if we don’t go back to Guinea. Sounds like fun?
We still don’t know anything about returning to Guinea or transferring somewhere else. We are all just waiting some more, which is a bit painful, but I always said Peace Corps was going to teach me patience (and I'm alright as long as I keep getting per diem!). I will keep you guys updated as new information arrives.
Our trip to Djenne and Mopti was amazing, tiring, beautiful, annoying, energizing, and everything in between. On Friday morning, we left before dawn to catch a bus up the main paved road in Mali to the junction with the road to Djenne. This was a novelty to me because in Guinea, we don’t have anything but taxis (painful) and mini-buses (more painful). We were so excited to have our own seats in a bus and be on the road by 7:30, we didn’t realize there was absolutely NO VENTILATION. We were seriously trapped in a moving steamer for 10 hours traveling towards the Sahara. I think I would have preferred a camel. But we made it to the junction and got off the bus (the bus almost drove away with Reid still on) and waited for a couple of hours for our taxi to leave for Djenne. I learned that taxis are just as ghetto here as they are in Guinea when Reid and I stuffed in to share the front seat, but halfway to Djenne, the door flew open and Reid almost fell out. Yay, Africa.
We arrived before sundown, found a hotel, ate, and settled in. We woke up early the next morning for our grand 3 hour tour of the desert town. Djenne is a town made completely out of mudstone, lots of mudstone, and when you walk around, you truly feel transported back in time. Their mosque, the largest mudstone structure in the world, was huge and very impressive. Unfortunately, we “couldn’t” go inside (we could have if we paid the right person enough money), but the architecture was astounding. Guinea has nothing like it. In the afternoon, we took a horse cart out to a Peul village and a Bozo village to see more amazing mud structures and be harassed by more annoying children.
The next day, we took a minibus (more painful) to Mopti, a large port town along the Niger River. This is where the salt arrives from Timbuktu, which of course, made me the happiest person ever. I am officially obsessed with the desert and the camel caravans that transport salt and other goods. The salt has been mined from dried lakes in the Sahara for centuries and transported on the camel caravans to Timbuktu and then sent via boat along the Niger to Mopti. And there I stood, watching boats arrive from Timbuktu unloading slabs of salt. I tasted one. It was a huge dirty chunk of pure salt from the Sahara, transported for hundreds of miles via camel caravan and the river. Guess what it tasted like. Salty. But what an amazing trip that piece of salt made!
Our return trip to Bamako was similarly hot, sweaty, but fast. After a loooong trip to see some mud and taste some salt, I was glad to return back to hot baths and good (free) food. But this week, we are starting our In-Service Training, which means I am going to be sitting in 100 degree heat being trained on things that I may never be able to put into practice if we don’t go back to Guinea. Sounds like fun?
We still don’t know anything about returning to Guinea or transferring somewhere else. We are all just waiting some more, which is a bit painful, but I always said Peace Corps was going to teach me patience (and I'm alright as long as I keep getting per diem!). I will keep you guys updated as new information arrives.
Thursday, February 1
Update from the Sahel
It's hot, sunny, and deathly dry. Oh no! Where's my chapstick and water bottle? Looks like I must still be in the deserts of Mali.
After weeks of hell, my mom flew home out of Bamako on Tuesday morning, returning safely to America, where she can drink the water and not fear for her life. Since then, I have been hanging out at the training center (Tubaniso) where they are housing all of the Guinea refugee volunteers. The training center is a faux Malian village – with huts and latrines, but also running water, good food, and electricity. It’s very confusing – am I in Africa or am I in a simulation of an Africa village at some amusement park? Should I say good morning in English, French, Malinke, or Bambara? How do they get such fresh and delicious vegetables in the desert? I am so confused....
I have resigned to my fate - none of those questions matter. It's weird, but it will work.
Since arriving on Tuesday, we have also been doing a lot of nothing around here, although I have been going into Bamako from here to enjoy good restaurants and shopping. I can’t tell you how nice it is to not worry about anything right now. My mind is clear, and I think I am slowly starting to process all that has happened.
The most popular topic of conversation around these here parts has been "what are we going to do?" "Are we going back to Guinea?" I put my money on not going back ($25 dollars in fact, which ain't no chump change here). In order for us to go back, Peace Corps says they have to feel confident that they can take care of us and not worry about this happening again. But change in Guinea occurs slowly…. this is likely to happen again. "So, what if we don’t go back?" We can either accept the end of our Peace Corps experience with an “Interrupted Service” or we can transfer to a choice of countries for one more year or two (depending on the requirements of the country). “So, what are you thinking about doing?” has truly been the question of the week. There are many who are thinking about going back to the US. There are many that are excited to go somewhere else. I, myself, am not sure about that. Honestly, I am only sure about one thing – I want to go back to Siguiri.
But before we find out, there is a lot of waiting time. We have to see how things fall back into place in Conakry and across the country. I am going to try to make the most of my waiting time by traveling through Mali as much as PC will allow. Tomorrow, I am heading to Djenne for the weekend, where there is the largest mud brick structure in the world. I am so excited to see this country, and I am happy to be doing it without taking vacation time!
After this short trip, I am heading back to the training site for an In Service Training (IST), where we will try to stay on top of our work (whether we return to it or not). Hopefully once IST is done, I will be on the road again seeing the rest of Mali, all the while, waiting to hear that we are cleared to return home to Guinea.
After weeks of hell, my mom flew home out of Bamako on Tuesday morning, returning safely to America, where she can drink the water and not fear for her life. Since then, I have been hanging out at the training center (Tubaniso) where they are housing all of the Guinea refugee volunteers. The training center is a faux Malian village – with huts and latrines, but also running water, good food, and electricity. It’s very confusing – am I in Africa or am I in a simulation of an Africa village at some amusement park? Should I say good morning in English, French, Malinke, or Bambara? How do they get such fresh and delicious vegetables in the desert? I am so confused....
I have resigned to my fate - none of those questions matter. It's weird, but it will work.
Since arriving on Tuesday, we have also been doing a lot of nothing around here, although I have been going into Bamako from here to enjoy good restaurants and shopping. I can’t tell you how nice it is to not worry about anything right now. My mind is clear, and I think I am slowly starting to process all that has happened.
The most popular topic of conversation around these here parts has been "what are we going to do?" "Are we going back to Guinea?" I put my money on not going back ($25 dollars in fact, which ain't no chump change here). In order for us to go back, Peace Corps says they have to feel confident that they can take care of us and not worry about this happening again. But change in Guinea occurs slowly…. this is likely to happen again. "So, what if we don’t go back?" We can either accept the end of our Peace Corps experience with an “Interrupted Service” or we can transfer to a choice of countries for one more year or two (depending on the requirements of the country). “So, what are you thinking about doing?” has truly been the question of the week. There are many who are thinking about going back to the US. There are many that are excited to go somewhere else. I, myself, am not sure about that. Honestly, I am only sure about one thing – I want to go back to Siguiri.
But before we find out, there is a lot of waiting time. We have to see how things fall back into place in Conakry and across the country. I am going to try to make the most of my waiting time by traveling through Mali as much as PC will allow. Tomorrow, I am heading to Djenne for the weekend, where there is the largest mud brick structure in the world. I am so excited to see this country, and I am happy to be doing it without taking vacation time!
After this short trip, I am heading back to the training site for an In Service Training (IST), where we will try to stay on top of our work (whether we return to it or not). Hopefully once IST is done, I will be on the road again seeing the rest of Mali, all the while, waiting to hear that we are cleared to return home to Guinea.
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