The shades of gray

Mi first impressions of Conakry, was of a bunch of people living in a battered city submerged in a humongous mountain of Dirt. I knew beforehand that there are actually 3 distinctive ethnic groups: SouSou, Malinke and Fula (or Peul). To my untrained eyes, they where all the same. I asked Djulde about this. "Can you tell the difference between fulas SouSous and Malinkes ?" He said that absolutely yes. He mentioned something about the subtle difference in the skin colour, the garments, the features of the faces. While we where sitting in the backyard, late at night, we started to talk about life and all of those things you share, that try to explain in your simple words, why the creator chose to give you a life in this time in this world. The electricity in Conakry is very strictly rationed. During the whole day there is none. Then, depending on you rneighbourhood and day of the week, you can get it at 6 in the afternoon or at 12 midnight, until the morining of the other day. When one neighbourhood has electricity, the other one is dark, and the other way round. Apparently, the problem stemms from an inaddequate infrastructure . In recent years, different factors drew more and more people from the villages into the city, increasing the demand. Bad mangament and corruption, washed money away, and the electric network was unable to grow at the same pace as population. The entire economy is then shifted. Non perishable products are more in demand, like those soft cheese triangles that don't need freezing. Dairy., on the other hand, needs special management and you have to be very carefull where you buy, just to make sure that the shop has a fridge that keeps the cold for enough time. Allot of candles are sold, and most houses rely on these for the dark hours of the day. It gives certain evenings a unique feeling. Like eating on the backyard (it's too hot to eat inside), with a dim candle, the light of the stars and a beautifull silence, that is never broken by the TV that I sometimes hate so much. Many people have all sorts of generators, even solar panels on some instances. The "Autoroute" is lit entirely by lights running on batteries charged during the day with solar panels (a donation of a french company). You even have to count on making sure your portable computer's battery is charged during the hours where there is electricity, so you have power when the lights go out.
When it gets dark, the streets in Conakry turn into a different world. It's not a like its a little dark and you can see with the light from the houses, or something else. It's totally dark. One of the first dangers is falling in the ditches next to the street. You can't see them. On the streets, the cars turn into a ghostly and wild river than swooshes next to you. The little shops, grill meat skewers, and the whole atmosphere gets smoked up. All you see are shadows of people reflected on the smoke, and the dim lights of candles and fires.
My firend Tom and my Teacher Mbemba, both got robbed at night by the military. So it is not advisable for westerners to walk alone during these hours.
While we kept talking on the backyard, Djoulde taught me how to say hello in different ethnic languages . In fula you say "Njarama" when it is one person and "On Jarama" when many. Usually you will get a "Tanalaton " as an answer. If you are addressing a SuSu, you would say "Arabaldhi " and you would get "Amurabah a quioki ". And even if you want to ask "Where are you going ?" you would say "Ese fa minde ?" . He then kept teaching me different phrases, and of course how to say "fornication" and "white guy". On the following days, I kept asking Djoulde about people's ethnicity, every time we would walk by a group. I kept shooting "Njarama" and "Arabaldhi", allways to the wrong people, and getting in answer a contemptive "Bon Jour" like saying "yeah we get it, you want to start politely, but you gotta aim well first".
I am now starting to tell the difference between one and the other, by their occupation (Fula's tend to be the business men and have most of the shops in Conakry) , their features and skin, their garments (Fula's also tend to be more devote Muslims and tend to wear traditional muslim garments).
When you walk at certain times of the day and is time for "Salat" (prayer) you see most of the Fulas in their shops come together for the ritual. They wash their hands, their feet, their arms, the head, the face, their nostrils, eyes and ears, several times, allwas with the little plastic teapot. They then lay little prayer mats facing mecha, take off their shoes, and together enter in submition and harmony with god. I am really amazed at this moment, of total embracement and renouncement. 5 times a day, you purify yourself, shed off all layers, and embrace the allmighty in all harmony. The same words, the same rituals, day after day, 5 times a day until you move to other spheres....
Conakry in its very own way is a multicultural metropoli. You see woman completely covered, dressing black all the way down, and women, wearing very light clothing and a traditional african skirt. Threre are some europeands, allot of middle easterners (mostly Lebanese) including some middle eastern restaurants and a few chinese. Everybody seems to get along pretty well, and allot of Guineans are proud of the concept of tolerance and of being different from other afrian NAtions where ethnic tensions brought about civil war. There have been some recent problems with some chinese companies. It has been discovered that some antibiotics that where manufactured in Guinea and sold to the local population, where nothing more than corn starch and flower and allot of people that took the medication, perished of their disease, since it was totally useless.
The military busted with an iron hand allot of these companies, and arrested many people. Allot of Guineans are getting even more concerned about the government, and I grow uneasy. But wisdom tells me to hed fears away, continue with mi lmision and tay focued. After all, in all of these year of travel my one and only enemy was no other than me and my fear.