Conakry, Guinea (Part 1)
After an extended break from programming, it was back on the road to a new country for Around the Worlds: Guinea.
Predominantly a francophone country, I was thankful for my six week sabbatical so I could work on my French. I’ll admit, my French is not good. Let’s say I barely have a working proficiency, but still, I was ever-so-determined to make these programs happen.
After an uneventful two flights from JFK to Casablanca to Conakry, I hailed a taxi and made my way toward my new homebase in Kipe, a simple room with a cold shower and an electric fan to combat the infamous Guinea heat. It was Thursday evening and I wasn’t scheduled to begin sessions until the weekend, but there was still loads of prep to do.
This trip was off to a doozy of a start. I had no wifi in my room and couldn’t obtain a Guinean SIM card. I waited for five hours at the local mall before being turned away by the cell service store.
“Come back tomorrow,” they told me. I couldn’t though! I had programs the next day. But without service, how could I connect with them?
Luckily, I sat down for dinner at a restaurant with wifi and was able to link up with my contacts and loved ones.
“See you guys tomorrow!” I said to my first contact, Madame Laurence, the director of Maison de Bonheur – Hakuna Matata, a children’s home caring for nearly a hundred kids about an hour from Kipe. She was excited, as were the kids.
Contacts like her are gold in this industry too, as she had so kindly prepared two customs documents for the 150+ pieces of equipment I was bringing in from the states. Wary of the (seemingly) simple task of just ordering a cab to go to Maison Bonheur’s campus in Dabompa Mangrove, I swallowed my fears and made the walk two blocks down my street to the main road to hail a taxi.
I did some research before arriving in Conakry, leaving me with two major reservations: my apartment had no wifi and the bigger of the two: Guinea had no reliable ride-sharing platforms. This meant, no Uber or Yango, Move etc. These are all rideshare services I’ve used overseas. I was on my own, left to haggle with taxi drivers in my, arguably, fourth best language. Alas, I was up to the task! In order to make a session happen for the kids, it was worth it. It ALWAYS is.
I was successful on my third attempt and waved down a smiley fella in a rundown yellow cab. “J’ai besoin de aller a Dabompa Mangrove,” I told him, showing him the location on my phone. “C’est un orphelinat.” (I need to go to Dabompa Mangrove. It’s an orphanage.)
An hour of crazy, and I mean, CRAZY, Conakry traffic later, I reached a dirt street with Maison Bonheur nestled at the end of it. Outside, nearly three dozen kids were dressed in jerseys, playing footy with two small portable goals at each end. In typical streetball fashion, play was halted every once in a while to let a motorcycle or car pass by, although ever-so-sporadic.
Our playing grid was situated just outside of one of Maison’s three homes. This one was meant for the older girls, another for the older boys, and the last of all for the youngest of the youngins. I changed into my boots and approached my contact, Madame Laurence, for our much-anticipated face to face meeting.
Pleasantries aside, I detailed a loose agenda for the session. She didn’t speak any English, but we had been communicating over WhatsApp with a translator weeks ahead of my arrival. “Madame Laurence, I have ‘un petit sac’ for every participant and then I’d like to do some games to give away five of the footballs. Is that okay?”
My mind was already set, but I wanted to make sure we were on the same page. The boss’ permission successfully granted, I jumped straight into the session while the sun wasn’t quite yet scorching. First, I drew the group in for a quick chat in French before instructing them to divide themselves into groups of three for our listening drill. The instructions were simple: three people, one cone, one ball between them. Then, of course, you know how the rest goes!
I ran a few rounds, yelling out “poitrine, genoux, les yeux, cou!” among many other body parts I’d drawn from my years of studying French. Then, I called over an older pupil to help run a round before shifting the spotlight over to Madame Laurence to run a few, which she did both graciously and joyfully.
These kids never get enough of that game. It’s such a consistent bringer of joy in our sessions, hence its position as a mainstay in our curriculum after all these years. I mean, no matter what language – Hindu, Arabic, French, Spanish, English, Tagalog – the kids absolutely love it. I was eager to shift from our listening drill over to more specific football-related work, so we broke into some passing lines to work on push passes and one-touch passes.
Some groups had a better grasp than others, so I made my way to our younger participants to walk them properly through it. From there, we kept our same lines and teams in order to work on proper ball control: volleys, half-volleys, and headers. They were smashing it too! I couldn’t have asked for a better group of kids to work with for a first Guinea-based session.
Pausing for a water break, I received a question from my eldest group. “Are you a coach?” asked one of the boys helping run our ball control exercise for his particular team.
He was a proper baller, made known by the shiny new Adidas predators he was sporting.
“Yes my friend!” I said.
“Coach? I want to play professionally,” he said, expressing the same dream many of our beneficiaries have.
“For which team?” I asked.
“Barcelona…,” he said with conviction.
“How old are you?” I asked.
“I was born in 2004,” he answered.
“And what is your name?” I asked.
He smirked. “Lamine,” he answered.
It all made sense now.
“C’est bon! Lamine Yamal!” I said back, his smile widening.
We were 45 minutes into the class and I realized I hadn’t grabbed a single prize winner yet.
“Come here guys!” I yelled out, gesturing the group in.
“Maintenant nous avons un jeu pour gagner un prix. C’est un balón!” (Now we have a game to win a prize. It’s a soccer ball!) I yelled out. The kids’ eyes all lit up, of course they all wanted to leave with a new ball.
I proceeded to guide them through the rules of “Les mains ou la tête” (hands or head) for about five minutes before hitting several practice rounds to make sure they truly understood the game.
We grabbed one winner, and then I broke off into two smaller groups to grab two more. Luckily, I was aided by the kids’ school teacher, just as excited to run the round as the children were to play it. Still though, I had two more footballs to give out! How were we going to get two more victors? The lightbulb came on…Penalty challenge!
I set up the small goal frame about 15 yards away from where the kids were standing. Then, I placed a cone and a ball in front of them. Sure, it seemed a simple task, but with the rocky dirt road the net called home, it could hardly be considered as straightforward as it looked.
One by one, kids lined up, eager to step up to the penalty stripe and perhaps win a new football. I felt like I was running a carnival game! The kids really did create a heck of an atmosphere. They were cheering, jeering, jumping, and screaming. It only took about ten attempts before we had our two winners.
“And both of them are filles!” said Vanessa, one of Maison Bonheur’s volunteers, with a smile.
Ready to call it a day, and a successful one at that, I drew the group in close for a post-program chat and some applause for our five prizewinners. I couldn’t leave, though, without thanking the woman, Madame Laurence, who made it all possible.
“Thank you so much,” I said. “C’était parfait pour moi et j’espère la même pour les enfants,” (it was perfect for me and I hope the same for the kids) I finished, as she graciously called me a motorcycle to bring me back to my home base in Kipe.
One programming day down, and Lord knows how many more to go. Let’s do it!
