The Guinea Diaries - Day 2 (Part I)

Day 2 - May 28, 2009

I am awakened by a rooster crowing - literally. I am quite certain that this is the first time I have ever heard a rooster crow. The sound is far different than "cock-a-doodle-do", but I can't quite find another way to describe the rooster's distinctive call.

I lie awake, yet still, for about five minutes as I try to process exactly where I am and how I got here. I am sticky with sweat and I feel Layla continue to toss and turn in an attempt to escape the sweltering heat, but she cannot, neither can I. I look over and see that Ben and Safiyah are still sleeping. I walk to the barred window and take my first glimpse of the city of Conakry, Guinea's capital.

There is literally so much to take in. I feel like I'm on sensory overload. I want to capture every bit of what I'm seeing, but it seems impossible to describe the a vision that is literally so foreign to me. I wish I could simply pour out the vivid picture that is in my head. (By the way, pictures do no justice.) So, in order to effectively tell this story, without continually getting lost in the details, I must attempt at least, to paint a picture of the backdrop of this experience.

Like much of the third world, I find there are two primary colors here - green and brown. Green is the surrounding nature. By nature, this is a beautiful place. There is so much green. I see so many different kinds of trees, but the only one I know by name is the palm tree. From where I am sitting now, I can also see the ocean in the distance. But it's not blue, or even green. It's more of a grayish white that blends with the sky. It is difficult to see where the water ends and the sky begins. This is the beauty of Guinea.

But then there's the brown, the man made part of this picture that is drenched in poverty. The buildings are an industrial kind of brown, specked with the dirt of age and time. It is the dusty kind of brown that looks as if it can never get clean, or perhaps was never clean to begin with. The airport is this kind of brown. There are also brown, thatched tin roofs that sit atop the square makeshift structures that litter the city. These tin roofs are also green, some rust colored, some white and some black, but mostly brown.

And then there are the sounds. My first sound of the morning, a rooster crowing, followed by the chirping of birds I'd never heard from before. The sounds were so vivid because there were no other sounds competing to be heard. But as the city continued to come alive, other sounds joined this orchestra and soon filled the darkness of the fleeing night. Next, a baby was crying, then a goat and before I knew it, the whole city had awakened.

I look over and see Safiyah beginning to wake. She's always a little unpredictable in the morning and today is no different. She looks over and sees me writing and shoots me an unexpected smile.

"Morning, sweetheart", I whisper.

She smiles. But, in true dramatic fashion, her smile quickly transforms into a look of great concern.

"Mommy, I think I'm scared."

"Why," I ask. I soooo didn't see this coming.

"I think I heard a monster."

"No, Safi; no monsters here."

Then I hear the distinctive 'cockle doodle' that started my morning.

"See Mommy, it's a monster," she exclaimed.

"No Safi - that's a rooster."

"No," she says, looking at me wide-eyed and certain. "I'm pretty sure that was a monster."

I begin to respond and then I catch myself and just accept it - this is going to be a long couple weeks.