Back Home in the US

I was medically separated from the Peace Corps on May 2nd and flew home to Virginia. The next Monday I had skin graft surgery to cover my wound. The nurse gave me the anesthesia documentation and spent a lot of time explaining the risks, etc. It was comical considering I had been put under anesthesia every 1-2 days, when they cleaned and rebandaged my wound, during my hospital stay in Senegal. I was in the hospital for a week, truly appreciating American medical care. The TV actually had something on it besides African dancing and rugby. My hospital stay was extended due to a drop in my heart rate. The average person's heart rate ranges from 50-100 beats per minute. Mine is usually around 60, which is on the lower end. Lance Armstrong, a human machine, has a resting heart rate of 26 beats per minute. My heart rate had dropped to 32 beats per minute, though I felt completely fine. Nurses who came in to check on different things would always remark that I was "so athletic" or some such. I believed that maybe I could have a Lance-like heart rate for about an hour. Then I realized I had been in and out of hospital beds for the last month or so, and hadn't been on a run in a long time... To make a long story short, I had to spend the night awake watching "Endless Summer" on repeat in the hospital, because every time I drifted off to sleep my heart monitor would alert the nurse that my heart rate was dropping below 30. I would nod off and hear the phone ring, the heart monitor station a floor below alerting my nurse. Let's just say that "Endless Summer" isn't the movie to keep you awake through the night. My heart rate jumped back to normal and I was released from the hospital with my leg in a big cast.

I had to keep my leg parallel to the ground at all times, to keep the blood pressure low and allow the skin graft to take to my leg. Therefore I couldn't use crutches or climb stairs, so we rented out a wheelchair and portable commode and I took up residence on a cot over the oriental rug in our living room. I spent the next month or so in the living room and den on the first floor of my house, with 2 excursions to the doctor's office.

Dakar, Senegal

View of Dakar, Senegal

I arrived in Dakar, Senegal at night and was shuttled in a nice ambulance to a Dakar clinic, where I was hospitalized for another week. I cleaned out Dakar of a strong IV antibiotic, and the regional Peace Corps doctor, Dr. Savage, had to pay the Senegalese Army General a visit to track down some more for me. I had the dressings on the wound changed regularly under general anesthesia and some tunnels added on the sides of the wound. After a week I was discharged from the hospital and went to live at Dr. Savage's house with his family. It was amazing living with them. We had burritos and lasagna for dinner; serious treats after a life of rice and oily fish sauce every night during training in Guinea. Another Peace Corps volunteer from Guinea, Sandra, was also in Dakar getting physical therapy for her knee, so she helped me a lot while I was in the hospital. We even went out to dinner with a former volunteer in Guinea who was living and working in Dakar. I spent two weeks with the Savages and planned on getting skin grafts in Senegal and returning back to Guinea. Peace Corps Washington decided it would be wiser for me to return to the US for the skin grafts and recovery.

Back to Conakry

I was supposed to move into my village, but instead I bought out the backseat of a taxi and returned to the capital. The next morning I was checked into the hospital there and put on IV antibiotics. It was a "nice" clinic for wealthy Guineans and expats. That being said, I was definitely still in Guinea. Random male "nurses" would wander into my room at all times to ask me if I was married, and pretend to inspect the air conditioning unit (which clearly did not work). I was pretty used to Guinean male behavior towards white women, but being stuck in a hospital bed with nowhere to retreat to was frustrating. There wasn't a phone or tv in the room, so I would just lay there and if I needed something from a nurse I would have to yell. And I mean yell, multiple times. I only had a few changes of clothes, and couldn't shower so I was just wearing the same sarong stuck to me in sweat. A few days later I had surgery to remove the infected tissue in my leg, with a Peace Corps volunteer in the operating room taking digital pictures. When I woke up the next morning, the Peace Corps Medical Officer warned me that my leg looked like I had been bitten by a shark. Too bad it wasn't really a hot surfing wound :)

After the surgery, redness continued to move up my leg towards my hip. This showed that the infection was still spreading and I needed to get additional care. Peace Corps arranged for an emergency paramedic jet to land in Conakry. It was rush hour by the time I had to get to the airport, and the medical officer was taking the Peace Corps vehicle back to the Conakry house to pick up my passport, etc. from the safe. Therefore they had to transport me in the hospital's ambulance to the airport, where I would meet back up with the Peace Corps. This ambulance was a glorified metal shell of a minivan, with a blaring siren on the top. An eight-month pregnant nurse sat up front and a thin male nurse was in the back with me. Technically he was in the back with me, but he spent most of the ride with as much of his upper body as he could fit shoved out of a small 1 ft x 1ft square hole (window?) in the side of the ambulance, waving to friends in the streets of downtown, suddenly a celebrity. As for me, I was sitting in one chair and had my leg propped up on a tv dinner table. Neither was bolted to the ground, and the tv table had wheels, so I would slide around the inside, trying to keep my leg as still as possible. Other than that, there was nothing else inside the ambulance. Seriously, nothing. I was extremely nauseous from the medications I was taking and asked for a plastic bag. The only thing they could rummage up to give me was a broken ice cube tray, which leaked puke all over me. Eventually we made it to the airport, the siren blaring in my brain long after they had turned it off.

Conakry to Labe

We woke up early to pile up all of our stuff around taxis headed towards the regional capitals. We left a lot of stuff with the Peace Corps to drop off for us on the mail run headed up country a few days later. We fought back tears, knowing we wouldn't see some of our good friends from training for the next three months. We all planned to gather again for In-Service Training in mid-July. Nine hours later, my taxi arrived in the regional capital of the Fouta Djallon, Labe.

Many volunteers in the Fouta gathered to welcome us to our new region. They planned amazing dinners for us and took us to Porto Falls, a great secret swimming hole with waterfalls off of a dirt road north of the city. We did some more shopping in the Labe market before heading to site. The small cut on my left shin that I got in Conakry running on the beach appeared to be infected. I woke up in the early morning with intense pain and swelling in the leg and with a temperature of 103.5F. I took it easy and started on antibiotics after consulting with the Peace Corps Medical Officers (PCMOs). A few days later my temperature had gone down a bit but my leg was still getting worse. I went to see the doctor in Labe and he said I needed to go back to the capital to get some of the infected tissue in my leg taken out.

Market Shopping in Conakry

We went shopping at the big markets in Conakry, bargaining for all sorts of everyday items we would need for site: stoves, pans, spatulas, spices, metal trunks, locks, hammers, watering cans, etc. It was basic insanity. Guineans would come from all corners carrying everything imaginable trying to sell it to us. It wasn't hard for them to figure out that we were there to buy and buy big. A lot of us got really ripped off at Marche Niger our first day; the vendors would start haggling at prices over 5x the correct price. At one point, a vendor acting as a middle man for some of our purchases got frustrated at my friend Molly, and tapped her against the face with a frying pan. We ran away on narrow paths under uneven roofs through the market maze and he followed us. I had to explain to him that it was not acceptable to hit her. Later I heard that some other Peace Corps people in my training group were enjoying a leisurely lunch in the patisserie on the second floor up above the market. They looked out the window and saw me going off at this man in the middle of the street and laughed because it was so out of character for me. We finally ditched him and managed some productive shopping. The next day at Marche Medina (apparently the largest market in West Africa) we found some better deals. I had to haggle with a man in Pular for about an hour to get a great deal on two large metal trunks. I found an awesome duvet cover with stars and the moon on one side and a blue sky and clouds on the other. It was probably sent over to Guinea by Salvation Army- they sell second-hand items at low prices to African market vendors in bulk. I hear that Africa also receives the Superbowl and World Series champions shirts that are pre-printed with the team that actually loses in the end proclaimed as world champions. I already have some requests to keep a look out for some favorite teams winning finals they actually lost...

Farewell Ceremony and Affectation

Agroforestry trainees with homestay families from Yorokogiya

Trainees wearing indigo fabrics popular in the Fouta Djallon region

All of my trainee group dressed up in traditional Guinean outfits and said a formal farewell to our home stay families. I wore an outfit my home stay family had given me for Tabaski, an Islamic holiday that celebrates the sacrifice Abraham offered to make of his son to God. We packed up our things and headed to the capital, Conakry, for our official swearing-in as volunteers. The ceremony was at the American ambassador's house on the ocean. Speeches were delivered in French and each of the three local languages. I gave the speech in Pular. I translated Ralph Waldo Emerson's definition of success as part of the speech, and couldn't help cracking up when I had to say "Ralph Waldo Emerson" after minutes of sing-songy Pular.

To laugh often and much;
To win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children;
To earn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends;
To appreciate beauty, to find the best in others;
To leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch or a redeemed social condition;
To know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived.
This is to have succeeded.

That night some of us went swimming in the ocean by the Peace Corps house. I was running on the beach and tripped over a rock formation in the dark. I ended up with a few scrapes that healed quickly and all appeared well.

Counterpart Workshop and Site Visit

After 6 weeks of training, we traveled to the city of Mamou for our counterpart workshop. Each Peace Corps volunteer is formally linked with a counterpart in his or her program area. Agroforesters are paired with the Forestry Chief for their districts. My counterpart, Mamadou Korka Balde, seemed interested in working with me on reforestation projects and mud stove construction. He also planned on introducing me to the area groupements (organized groups of people with common goals: selling dried mangoes or fruit trees, for example).

We were supposed to travel to our sites from Mamou for a week-long site visit. Unfortunately, there was an assassination attempt on the Guinean President, Lansana Conte, the week before and the police and military had increased their presence on the roads (they stop all cars for bribes at illegal road checkpoints). Peace Corps decided we were not ready to travel across the country on our own with the increased police presence, so site visit was rescheduled and we returned back to the training site.

Two weeks later we traveled to our sites for the first time. A group of us traveling to the Fouta squished into a cab for a 7 hour taxi ride. We met some of the current volunteers serving in the region, ate a yummy dinner they cooked for us, and played a rousing game of "Celebrity." The Labe regional house is a little Peace Corps haven with movies, music tapes, a kitchen with stove and spice rack, and American pop culture magazines on the coffee table. My closest neighbor at site, an education volunteer named Brian, showed my friend Melanie and me around to our sites. Brian's site is a 20 minute bike ride from mine, Melanie's is 1.5 hrs, and Labe is 1.5 hrs. We spent one night at each site and took taxis between them. We donned our traditional Guinean attire each morning as we moved to a new site and met with the village leaders.

We visited my site on market day. I stepped out of the taxi into a sea of color. Women were selling all kinds of fruits and vegetables, peanut butter, plastics, etc. The district president showed me my house. It's concrete with high tin roofs and includes a bedroom, salon, and porch. The house is surrounded by a brick wall and in the wet season corn grows in the front yard. A public latrine is in the front corner by the gate (but hopefully that will disappear when I move in?). There isn't electricity or running water, but there's a solar-powered pump put in by a German non-governmental organization with amazing water pressure in the middle of town.

I met the elders of the village and the leaders of the women's groupement in a formal ceremony in a small room off of the main street. They led me around the village to tour the water pump and schools. The village already uses a sensibilization center (place for community awareness meetings on topics of health and environmental issues) and an adult literacy center. One man I met was encouraging the use of mud stoves and showed me two he had built for women in the center of the village. It was exciting to see a community so motivated for self-improvement.

After a great break from the everyday grind of training, we returned back to the training site outside of the capital for a few short weeks. We practiced giving community sensibilizations on agroforestry topics. My individual presentation was on intercropping possibilities in the Guinean garden.

Pre-Service Training (PST)

My Peace Corps training group (G9) is made up of 34 trainees in the fields of agroforestry, health, and small enterprise development. We arrived in Guinea's coastal capital, Conakry, on January 12th. We departed the next morning for a 3-day orientation in Mamou, a city in the middle of the country. Our first drive up-country from the coast was beautiful. The environment changed from lush palm trees to rolling hills with monkeys. We stayed at a Guinean forestry school, ENATEF, met our training leaders, and had French language placement interviews.

During the 10-week training we lived with home stay families in the villages of Yorokogiya, Gberiyere, and Km5. I lived with the Camara family in the small village of Yorokogiya. I had a mom, dad, grandmother, aunt, and lots of brothers and sisters. Some weren't "real" brothers and sisters in American terms; we would consider them cousins or extended family. But they were so much a part of my immediate home stay family that it took a long time to figure out which kids came from where. I'm still a bit unsure. My beautiful brothers and sisters: Ibrahima, Mariama, Marissa, Aicha, Mamata, Solomon, Sakhou, Ali, Mohammed, and Salematou. I was called Aicha Camara.

My homestay family, the Camaras

Homestay house; my doorway has the pink curtain

Kids in my homestay family; from back: Mariamba, Aicha, Sekou, Salematou, neighbor

My room

I showed up in Yorokogiya with a scratchy voice. I was a bit too excited during my first week in country and had lost my voice. Some of the families at the Adoption Ceremony definitely thought I was possessed. It was a bit awkward.

I was shocked one day to turn and see my tiny brother Ali at the top of a palm tree harvesting a coconut for my mom. My sister Marissa convinced my cousin Fatimata (who lived with us for 2 weeks or so) that I was possessed since I had white skin and blue eyes. Fatimata was terrified of me for the first few days until I convinced her that Marissa was being ridiculous.

Ali getting a coconut for his mom

Mariamba with her new baby, Fatimata, Aicha, Marissa

Each sector (agroforestry, health, and business development) had training classes and exercises based in its village. The 10 agroforestry trainees managed a small organic garden in a space in the lowlands given to us by the village of Yorokogiya. While hoeing the rows with the African dabas (hoes), we discovered huge mean biting ants (and suddenly realized why our village picked such a nice spot for our garden). Our Guinean trainers taught us many agroforestry techniques including basic gardening, mud stove construction to increase wood fuel efficiency, fruit tree grafting, solar drying and cooking, and reforestation.

Agroforestry training in the garden

Agroforestry building a mudstove (mudstoves capture heat, improving efficiency, and reducing wood required for fuel)

Agroforestry trainees after the talent show performance

Some sessions brought the entire training group together to discuss health and safety issues and Guinean culture. We studied French in small groups with Guinean language trainers and after a month of training, we found out where our sites would be and started local language training. My site is in the mountainous region in the middle of Guinea, the Fouta Djallon. I started learning Pular, the melodic language of the Peuhl people spoken by 14 million people in West Africa. 2.5 million people speak Peuhl-Fouta, the dialect they speak in Guinea.

We also had fun times bonding together with our fellow trainees. We all had Peace Corps mountain bikes so we could bike between villages to hang out. We played basketball on a random concrete court on top of a mountain behind Yorokogiya in a palm tree plantation. The court seriously seemed like basketball's version of "Field of Dreams." It's in the middle of nowhere with a lovely mountaintop view just steps from the court.

"Field of Dreams" basketball court above Yorokogiya

Group excursion by boat to islands off the coast of Conakry

Group excursion to Les Voiles de Mariees; (Bridal veil falls) near Kindia

We biked 18km to a Lebanese restaurant at the foot of huge cascades in the wet season. It was the dry season during training so the falls were reduced to a tiny trickle, but we could explore the riverbed above the falls and swim in the "lake." Two friends and I celebrated Easter with brunch there.

What should I put in a package for you?

Oh lovely friends and family, I do love your letters and packages! People have asked me what they should send over, since weight is so precious. So instead of you calling my parents this time, here's a list of things I love. Every single thing you send is so appreciated, on the list or not!

-Luna/Clif bars
-Powdered hummus/vegetarian chili (in the natural foods aisle of the grocery store, made by Fantastic Foods and packaged in small cardboard boxes).
-Cheese (Hickory farms makes unrefrigerated smoked cheese, at Target)
-Sour gummy candy
-Dark chocolate
-Chalula hot sauce
-Spaghetti sauce or soup powdered packets (vegetarian)
-Powdered drink mixes (Crystal light, chai latte, apple cider, hot choc)
-Dried fruit (craisins/cherries/blueberries)
-Nuts (almonds, pistachios, pine nuts)
-Wasabi roasted peas
-Fun shower stuff (lotion, body wash, shamp&cond, etc)
-Candles/incense that smell good

My address:
Ashley Massey, PCV
Corps de la Paix Americain
B.P. 1927
Conakry, Guinea
West Africa

*Mail can take awhile to get to me, so don't be disturbed if you haven't heard back for awhile! Best case: I get your letter or package 2 weeks after you send it! Worst case: It gets lost or arrives 3 months later. Usually it takes a month or so.

*Packages do get "lost" so if you're sending more than just a little, divide into multiple packages. That way, at least some of it might get to me! You can also put little things in envelopes with letters. It's always better to send letters separate from packages, so they have a better chance.