Visiting a Malinke Village in the interior of Guinea Mark Nadobny It’s been nearly eight months since I’ve returned from my Fulbright trip to West Africa, and I still regularly reflect upon the many experiences, people, and opportunities I’m fortunate enough to now include in my compilation of travel experiences. As an educator, I routinely try to incorporate my many travel experiences into the classroom. This Fulbright trip to West Africa has proven to be a windfall of knowledge for me, regarding not only the further understanding of underlying and related historical events but also a more profound insight into the livelihood of populations of a different region of the world. In particular, this experience has allowed me to immerse myself in a completely foreign cultural setting of which I normally would never have been able to experience. When charged with the task of selecting one instance or moment from the hundreds that were lived over the course of the five weeks spent in West Africa, I find that the undertaking becomes rather daunting. Naturally, there are several that immediately come to mind; however, when considering the motivation to do justice to so many people and places that we visited, the task suddenly becomes a bit of a challenge. After much deliberation, I’ve chosen to discuss one particular opportunity a visit to a Malinke village in the Fouta Djallon region while in transit from Dabola to Kankan, Guinea. In what seemed to be a spur of the moment decision, the procession of vehicles the Fulbright team was traveling in pulled over to the side of the road as we passed an apparent example of a “typical Malinké village.” The leader of the Fulbright team introduced himself to some of the village members and explained our purpose as educators, where we were from, and that we would like to visit the village and meet with some of the people. Quite graciously, but with some apprehension, we were invited into the village to have what in my opinion would be one of the defining moments of the Fulbright experience. We were first directed into a courtyard area where some informal introductions were made. The Fulbright members then dispersed into smaller groups to explore the village. After traveling through West Africa for nearly four weeks and admiring the many scenes before me, I regularly took interest in the brick huts with thatched roofs that seemed to dominate the rural communities. With this curiosity in mind, I made it a point to study one of these huts, of which the village mainly consisted of, up close. A family invited several of the Fulbright members into their home, and I promptly followed. Once inside, I first realized how comfortable and secure it felt. I had my reservations from impressions made from the outside; however, once inside, I was able to observe the sturdy construction of the roof and inner walls. Though I only spent several minutes in the home, I was overly impressed, as well as convinced of its suitability to the environment and general conditions of West Africa. Before leaving the home for other observations in the village, I noticed a chicken in the doorway and took the picture located below to the left. To me, this image symbolized the simplicity and calmness of the life that surrounded me all this time while in the West African countryside and only at this moment did I fully realize it. The picture located to the right is of me squatting in the doorway of the hut.
After leaving the home I continued on, with other members of the team, to another building that seemed to resemble a storage and/or cooking area. There were several benches situated around two sets of rocks that seemed to hint that it was some type of cooking or work area. The few items that were scattered in and around the sight were rudimentary in appearance but most certainly hand-constructed by a village craftsman. I was even under the slight suspicion that this was a place to bake bread as there existed a smaller door, built into the side of the building and in the locality of the supply of twigs and sticks for burning. Just to the right of the pile of wood I noticed a mortal and pestle arrangement and asked some nearby people about it. They very graciously instructed me on the proper use of it and allowed me to have myself photographed using the tools. I was overly intrigued by the surroundings I was in and eager to see more of the Malinké village. I can recall pondering the fact that in the year 2008, some people still live in a traditional way in West Africa, while in other regions of the world, such as in Charleston, SC, people live quite differently. I concluded that it’s all relevant to one’s culture and surroundings and that varying cultural perspectives need to be considered regarding what is the norm or expected within a living environment. Below left is a picture of the above described setting, and to the right is the mortal and pestle tools I was able to use.
After expressing my gratitude for their hospitality, I realized that the group was starting to assemble in the courtyard where we had initially started. By this point, word had spread throughout the village that foreigners were visiting, and thus a large gathering of children started to congregate in the courtyard area. Once rejoining the group, we took up a small collection of money to offer to the men and women of the village as a token of our appreciation for allowing us to visit and observe their way of life. It is at this point that I felt a connection to the village and its people, and I arranged to have a picture taken with the children. This particular experience was a memorable one for me, as I was able to make a true connection with the people of West Africa. There were many different personal goals of the various individuals of the Fulbright team, and mine was to learn more about the city of Charleston, SC by visiting one of its many but also least understood historical roots. It’s through this experience that I’ve been able to understand further what makes, if you may, a Charlestonian, an acknowledged connection to West Africa. It was early in the trip, while walking the streets of Freetown, Sierra Leone, where I first came to realize that what I had been looking for was literally in the faces of the people around me. Through the physical features of the people of West Africa I was able to “see” my students and realize that they were undoubtedly distant cousins separated by a tragic history. Not until the closing weeks of the trip was I able to finally understand the true connection between West Africa and the Lowcountry region of the United States. This relationship is with the people who are merely separated by distance, time, and culture but connected in spirit.