01/15/2024 Bikepacking Guinea Day 160 : Destination Elevation

With everyone asking me daily in Sierra Leone, “What is your Mission?” today, I started taking the question a little more seriously. I had been replying with half-baked answers like “I have no mission,” or “to see Africa.”

Reflecting on the journey thus far, it seems that a mission has kind of evolved. It’s a mission to bring you the voice of people in tiny African villages. The places where they “only see white people on television.” They are people who you probably don’t hear much about in your daily life.

They get to decide what that story will be. If they want their tale to be them saying, “Give me money,” that’s their choice. But if they want their legacy to be an inspirational story of entrepreneurship and struggle for a better life, there’s plenty of space here welcoming that kind of story too.

Today, in an ultra-tiny village, I met Mohammed. He owned one of those “electricity stores” I told you about in previous episodes; a small shack where villagers can come to charge their cell phones.

Mohammed’s little sister was killed in the Sierra Leone civil war that spanned from 1991 until 2002. As a result, his mom fled with him and his other sisters to Guinea. They lived in “The Camp,” during that time, and the rest of his family is still living there.

“The UN stopped supporting us over 15 years ago. Now, no one [of the refugees] has money,” he explained.

“I live here because it is good for my business. I go The Camp every week to bring money and food to my family. I didn’t want to have to ask someone for my food, that is why I started this.”

I told him how impressive his little store was. I liked how well organized each charging station appeared.

I said, “I really admire you for your hard work and perseverance. It looks like you have made a very successful business. This charging station is really cool!”

He beamed with pride.

“I worked little by little. Now I have 6 [large lead acid] batteries and 8 solar panels. The reason I came to this village is because there is no one doing this here. That is why it is good for my business. At the camp, there are others.”

It made sense; this opportunity exits all over Guinea and Sierra Leone; even in a good sized city like Kissidougou, there was no power.

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I want to make it clear that very few children attend school in these parts. In the cities, some kids go; easily identified by their worn out uniforms and backpacks. In the villages, however, the youth live in the dirt road that passes the huts. Invariably, on the edge of the hamlet is a vacant school building, sometimes inhabited by wayward goats. Always, a signpost indicating the name of the humanitarian organization which funded its construction.

Yesterday, I met a man who had attended the university. Now he was selling me bags of water. In the same way that sealed off wells don’t appear (to me) to be the optimal solution for the water problem, I’m not certain school is a universal solution either. I didn’t ask Mohammed if he had attended school, but given his apparent age and his life story, I’ll bet he built his success without the assistance of a classroom.

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It’s kind of ironic that after I complained about the aggressive nature of people in Sierra Leone, I’m now meeting all these refugees who I actually really enjoy talking to. At least I like them better when they’re in Guinea 😆. I’m happy to be back here. The huge smiles have returned, no loud arguments in the streets, less aggressive solicitation of my attention. I forgot how much I liked Guinea - in spite of the censorship, lack of electricity and resources. It’s amazing what juxtaposition can do for your perspective.

This morning, I spent an hour and 45 minutes trying to get money. The one ATM was broken, and none of the 3 banks would change Euro or USD. During this search, I met another Sierra Leone refugee named Jimmy. He also came here with his mother during the war, but she died a couple weeks ago. Now he’s here all by himself. I can see how that war - even having finished so long ago - still tears families apart.

“So, what is your team?” Jimmy asked.

“Huh?”

“Today, Guinea plays against Cameroon… what is your team?”

Jimmy had a stutter and was missing several of his front teeth. Nevertheless, he was actually one of the easier to understand people I’ve met in a while!

There is a series of “football” (American Soccer) games going on right now in the Ivory Coast. Jimmy was holding a Guinea 🇬🇳 to show his support. He said he worked at the bank, but he had some sort of freedom to come and go as he pleased. He said they watch the football games inside the bank.

I said, “I don’t think they let you watch TV at banks in the US. You must have a good boss.”

“Yes, he’s an American!”

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The ride today was again very challenging - like the back side of Bear Mountain in Henry Coe State Park. In fact, just as I was thinking to myself how carefully you need to ride mid-day when the sun is at its apogee, obfuscating the depth of the ruts, the bike went out from under me! I kept it upright as long as possible, but eventually slid along the deep rut that my tire refused to climb out of. Fortunately, nothing was broken, and all I got was a thumbtack size red dot on my hip.

The other bad thing that happened was that I left my headlamp at the hotel. I had brought it into the mosquito net so I’d have light when the electricity went out… but because that was something I don’t normally do, I didn’t think to dig through the fabric this morning to see if there was anything left behind. Doh! I’m feeling the pain of having no light now in my camp. Luckily, it’s a waxing moon. 🌚