The Guinea Diaries - Day 1

It's long overdue, but I've been meaning to transfer my handwritten notes from the infamous Guinea trip over to the blog. So, I begin with Day 1 of the adventure to the country of Ben's birth.
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Day 1 - May 27, 2009

We arrived in Guinea around 2am Thursday morning. As we deboarded the plane, I was struck by how hot it was so early in the morning. It was a sticky, humid kind of hot that I'd more associate with midday. Ben kept instructing me to cover Layla, so the misquitos wouldn't get her. Unfortunately, all our medication and insect repellant was packed in our checked luggage; I didn't think we'd need it so immediately. Ben's cousin Bashir was standing at the bottom of the plane steps in a red Indianapolis Indians T-shirt waiting for us. The Indianapolis Indians T-shirt, a souvenier from his last trip visiting us just a few months prior, was a nice welcome, yet it was odd to see the handful of people waiting at the bottom of the steps as we exited the plane. Apparently, the security guidelines of a post 9-11 world haven't affected Guinea.

Bashir insisted on guiding us through the arrival process to prevent any unnecessary delays. As a travel agent with frequent dealings at the airport, Bashir's official looking badge was repeatedly flashed and apparently recognized by those who simply nodded and let us through. Bashir filled out the paperwork all new arrivals are required to fill out before claiming their bags. I saw others who weren't so graciously escorted stopped and questioned through what appeared to be a simple matter of arrival. There was no official customs line. It all seemed to be a matter of chance, whether you were stopped, asked any questions, or simply permitted to pass through. There was no order, or flow to the arrival process, just lines, several lines all seemingly leading to the same place. I heard both Fulani and French being spoken, but of course understood neither. But Ben, who speaks both languages fluently, seemed as in need of an escort as I was.

When we finally arrived at to the area to claim our bags, there was no question of which baggage carousel was ours - as.there.was.only.ONE!! Guinea's sole international aiport has only one baggage carousel!! We waited and waited and I began to see the number of bags beginning to dwindle. My fears started to mount. Soon, they were no longer fears, it was reality - NO BAGS! Ben and Bashir went to talk to a man behind a counter who carelessly advised that the next Air France flight would arrive in two days - maybe our bags would be on that flight, he said.

Unbelieveable!! I was LIVID! I could not believe that after everything we'd been through on this journey already, still more???!!! I wanted to scream, fight, yell and demand that something be done. But most of all, I was just tired; and so were the girls who were crying more and being soothed less. We had no choice but to just come back in two days.

Defeated, exausted and now bagless, we started back out into the thick night air. We were followed by at least five or six men pushing carts, who, despite our lack of bags, were still hoping to collect some sort of tip. I had Layla wrapped around me in a sling. I stayed close to Ben, who was holding Safiyah, and begged him to try and fill me in on the conversations to ease my fears of the new unknown world around me. He tried to assure me, but honestly, little could.

As we exited the airport parking lot, I saw countless number of sleeping bodies lying under the lights on the bare concrete. I was shocked by what I thought was my first up-close look at the poverty of Guinea. And while I knew it was here, I was still shocked by the image. "Oh my God" I whispered, "that's so sad." Bashir turned to see what my eyes had seen, and to my surprise, he laughed. I was dumbfounded. Does seeing poverty on a daily basis make everyone this callous, I wondered.

"How can you laugh at the homeless?" I asked.

"Noooooo," he said, "those are students."

In a country without consistent electricity, I didn't realize the sheer value of the light amidst the darkness. Then Bashir explained.

"They come here to study. The airport is one of the only places where the lights don't go off."

It was 3am on a hot, sticky, Thursday morning. It stunned me that people could be so thirsty for knowledge and that it could manifest so simply. If only American students could see how desparate others are for the education we take for granted.

I was speechless.

Even now - there are no words.

"Welcome to Guinea" he said.