My Village Adventure

Some of you have been asking about how my trip to the village went. Below you’ll find the letter I sent to my family (Minus the sentimental parts). I wasn’t going to post this, but I guess you might find it interesting. I wrote it the day after I got back…

I just returned last night from a 4 day excursion into the villages in the northern and most remote part of the country. CES, an NGO here, is doing an impact evaluation of their micro-loan program, which they offer to women in about 21 communities in the district we live in. The goal is that they are empowering women economically and socially in society by giving small increment loans for them to start up businesses. They hired me as a “micro credit consultant”. Sounds fancy-schmancy I know, but really they just wanted someone external to the organization with a non-biased outlook and who would be able to carry out the interviews properly.

I was actually pretty nervous to do this (a lot more than I led on to you mom and dad but I didn’t want you to worry). Mostly for the obvious reasons – bad road conditions, no cell reception or contact to Kabala, sketchy food and bush meat, sketchy sleeping arrangements, lack of communication with locals, getting sick and being alone, etc. You get the picture. However, I decided that this would probably go down as one of the greatest adventures of my life, and what is life about if you don’t take risks and allow yourself to grow?

On Monday, myself and a CES worker (Foray Marah) drove 86 miles on a Honda XL 125 packed with all our drinking water and gear through the back, un-maintained roads to Seria, almost at the border of Guinea. Because we had so much stuff packed on the back of the bike, a lot of my seat space was taken up, not allowing me to sit directing upright. If I did, our helmets would constantly be knocking. I won’t go into detail, but after the 2nd and 3rd hour my knees, groin, and abdominal muscles were so painful I thought I would no longer be able to hold on. Foray is an unbelievably skilled motorcycle driver. So many times we would be crossing a bridge made of thin tree trunks, or going up a steep rocky hill in which I could literally see no clear path, but he somehow always got us through safely.

Thank the Lord we made it to Seria on Monday (the same day we left) just as the sun was going down, and we made it safely to the other two villages. The first thing we had to do when arriving was greet and inform the Town Chief, the Village Development Committee Chair Person (VDCC), and the Mammy Queen (women’s leader) of what we would be doing so they could help organize everyone for the next day.

In Seria and Mongo Bendugu (the first two villages) I slept at the local clinics in the nurses’ lodging (Foray used to be a nurse and knows a lot of people in the Peripheral Health Units) which were actually pretty decent. During the days we worked long hours interviewing beneficiaries and community leaders to see how the micro-loan program is impacting the women’s lives and communities, if at all. We ate two meals a day, both of which consisted of rice, palm-oil and peanut sauce and chicken. In the north water is much more scarce, so the farmers aren’t able to grow crops which require watering like cassava and potato leaf which they make into sauces here in Kabala.

Our last stop was Wednesday at Sinikoro, a tiny village of about 100 huts and mud houses. There is a small, 3 room school which has gr.1-6, but other than that no other resources like a clinic, water well, community center, market, etc. I stayed at the VDCC’s house, along with his three wives and 13 children. This was a mud house with a thatch roof. I actually had a wooden bed, but there was no mattress so I slept on wooden planks with a blanket over them. I was still thankful to be off the ground, especially after Foray warned me to keep my flashlight on all night because he was certain there were rats in the house. The smell in my room was really bad I guess because of lack of ventilation, mud walls, dust, etc. Luckily there was a mosquito net.

As you can imagine the poverty and isolation that these people live in is almost unimaginable. Everyone is Muslim which means every man has 3 or 4 wives and sometimes over 20 children. Usually each wife will get a hut for herself and her own children and the husband will rotate nights with his wives. The girls are usually married off while they are still teenagers and get pregnant shortly after. The children are so mangy looking – dirty, runny noses and coughs, skin infections, swollen bellies, etc. When I would see a fat, healthy looking baby it would make me so happy. I could go on and on but I won’t.

Anyway, one of my worst fears came true here. I ended up getting really sick in this small village, the last one I visited. I’m sure it was from the chicken they fed us. Foray said it was fried, not boiled like it was in the other places. It probably wasn’t cooked thoroughly. The latrine (ant-infested hole in the ground) was at least 50 meters from my room behind the house in the bush. As well, part way through the night a big thunder and lightening storm rolled in (this was the first rainfall in 4 months) and it poured! So, there I was, running back and forth with my flash light and towel over my head to use the latrine in the midst of a huge storm. I remember thinking that when if came to convenience and amenities, this was certainly the lowpoint of my life. Whatever food poisoning I had, it was bad – intense stomach pain, fever, body aches, headache, green shite, etc. The next morning however, it got worse and I starting vomiting. I actually started with the interviews, but wasn’t able to complete them. I have to laugh now at this, because at one point while interviewing, I suddenly had to go so bad, but I didn’t know where the nearest latrine was. So, I ran around in a panic to the nearest houses trying to communicate to the women that I needed to use the toilet. I must have been dehydrated or had low blood sugar because everything turned white and blurry and I almost passed out while talking to them. I’m sure they were thinking, “who is this crazy white woman?” After that, I went and lied down in my room, cried, and fell asleep for a couple of hours.

Foray finished the interviews for me. He felt really bad, kept saying, “Oh! You are so tormented, Edwin.” After I napped, we had to leave to come back to Kabala. So, back on the bike we got for 3 hour ride. I was so weak I could hardly hold on. But I did, and we made it back safely.

I was never so happy to see Joe. He is amazing. Boiled me water to so I could bath, washed my hair for me, picked out my cloths, and made me soup.

So, those are the cold, hard facts minus the sentimental parts but I’m sure you can imagine what that all entailed.

Thanks again for all your prayers and support!

Adrienne