Return to the field

Ah, the field. Stepping off the plane into a wall of heat, slapping mosquitoes against your sweaty skin as you wait in line for passport control, running the gauntlet of urchins who lurk expectantly outside the airport, elbowing your way through the boisterous crowd of short-sleeved suits loitering in the hotel lobby, waiting an absurdly long time to receive your hotel key, all the while fantasizing about the shower you will take when you get to your room… It doesn’t seem to matter what country I’ve been sent to: with remarkably few variations, this is the routine. I’m back to light cotton clothing and flip-flops caked in terracotta dust, to the GI-Joe accessories of a Motorola radio, a utility knife, and an ever-present bottle of water.

Guinea-Bissau is instantly familiar. I can account for most of this out of personal experience; it bears a strong resemblance to other West and Central African countries I’ve been to. To the extent that the architecture is different, I can liken it to Panama, a similarity which is explained by the Iberian influence. (In particular, this means a lot of colonial-style balconies and verandas with turned wood posts.) Some of the familiarity, however, is explained by Hollywood – specifically, by Blood Diamond. I’m not sure where that film was made, but the stand-in for Sierra Leone (assuming it was one) looked remarkably similar to what I’m seeing here. Flying in from Dakar, I was struck by the number of rivers that veined the land, leading out to a shattered coastline of jagged edges and tiny islands. Palm trees and thick stands of broccoli-topped hardwoods interrupted vast stretches of dry, rust-coloured scrublands. Bissau itself has the same dust-caked concrete buildings as most cities in this part of the world, but the palm trees and heavy air remind you constantly that you are on a tropical coast.

The poverty is, as always, inescapably visible. Vultures circle over piles of smoking garbage, attracted by the acrid stench. Commerce is largely improvised, selling diverse wares such as used glass bottles, mangoes collected from the ubiquitous trees, and of course cell phone credits. Idleness is everywhere; people lounge aimlessly under trees and against doorframes. But one would expect little else from a country where 18% of children complete primary school. In spite of this, Bissau is reportedly quite safe, with a very low crime rate and no known incidents of attacks against internationals. Presumably this results from the same tolerant spirit that allows Bissau-Guineans to go about their business while their politicians and generals assassinate each other. In a country where coups are common and presidential elections occur every year and a half or so, such a laissez-faire attitude is perhaps understandable.

I haven’t had a chance to see much of the city yet, and I’m not sure when I’ll be able to. The schedule is grueling, as noted yesterday, and shows no signs of letting up. Hopefully I will be able to find some time to peruse the local craft market, which is small but looks promising (based on drive-by reconnaissance.) In any case, this is the first spare minute I’ve had since I arrived, and it’s late here. Time for some much-needed sleep.