BABIES!!!

Babies! There are so many babies, toddlers, and children in Guinea. In addition to having one of the highest birth rates in the world, people only spend the time they sleep in the house so everywhere you look, you see cute kids. Word has got around that I love babies, so I always am getting ‘fabé’-d to come hold people’s babies. Fabé means “come here” and is married with the gesture of opening and closing your palm. Sometimes when I wave at people, I accidently make the fabé hand signal and then have people running over to me. This morning, I got offered a baby for 500 GNF- I only think the women was half kidding and if it wasn’t against Peace Corps rules to buy babies…Last night, I went over to play with my neighbor’s baby, Kadijatou. Somehow people feel the need to bundle up their babies since it is so cold here. They had this baby stuffed in 5 layers of clothes and a knit hat like the little brother in “A Christmas Story”. She couldn’t put her arms down. It was adorable.

My favorite baby is my brother Mohmed. He is very considerate. He doesn’t only try to eat my hair, he tries to feed it to me too. Today, he spent 15 minutes collecting rocks for me and one by one delivering them into my hand. He is an absolute muhzle. He also said his first words today- Oooh-O! It means “good bye” in Susu. He said it while waving. Like I said, muhz.

All kids want to pet my skin here, or at the very least give me a high five. Today, one stoked my hair, petted my arm, and then looked down my shirt to see if I was white there too. I think she was shocked to see I was even whiter. Kids here also play with trash and their hands are constantly covered in dirt, snot, trash, ash, or (during this season) mango. I have trained them to fist bump me instead. It’s much more sanitary. I give an average of 30 “Big Ups!” per day. Usually 6 or 7 kids line up for their big up and I go down the line. There is one toddler who really wants to give me a big up, but is also terrified that if she touches me the world will end so she gets about an inch away from bumping my fist and then pulls back and toddles away crying. Kids also  love to scream foté at me. I have been slowly working to get them to yell Salématou instead. Here is a conversation that happened today:

Kid 1: Foté! Foté

Kid 2: A mu xili ne foté, xili ne Salématou! (Her name’s not foté, it’s Salématou!)

Kid 1: Salématou! Salématou!

If Peace Corps has taught me anything, it is to celebrate the little victories, so I’m going to celebrate this one.