The flight from Ouaga to Bamako to Conakry is on a small plane, on an obscure airline called Asky. The small plane has many empty seats. I am one of maybe a dozen passengers. I'm pretty sure I am the only American.
I arrive at the Conakry airport. It's not as run-down as I remember it from last time. Did they remodel? Perhaps. My passport and yellow card are inspected. Yes, everything is in order. My checked bags arrive all in one piece. Whew.
Priscilla and Dioulde greet me at the exit. I'm very happy to see the Peace Corps staff again. The Peace Corps car drives us back to the Conakry house. I absorb the sights and sounds of the city. The ocean.
We arrive at the Conakry house. "What other volunteers are here?" I ask. "Well for now, it's just you," Priscilla responds. Oh. Ok.
We enter the house. It's familiar... but it's not. It's empty. So empty. We go to the office. We chat: about Guinea, the politics, the peace corps program, and about optimism. Optimism especially.
Details emerge, of a possible future. Later today I will be joined by three other education volunteers. We will be two G-18ers and two G-16ers. Together with the two extentionist (non-teacher) volunteers who are already in Dubreka, that makes a total of six volunteers in Guinea. For now. We will all work in Dubreka to help prepare a nice training program to welcome the bulk of the response volunteers who arrive in another week. I leave Conakry for Dubreka tomorrow.
And then I will move to site. Yambering. In the Fouta. On the road between Labe and Maliville. It's small. Smaller than Gueckedou or Koupela. It's mountainous. Green. Cold. Very cold, everyone tells me. Before evacuation, their high school had an English teacher. But now they need a science teacher.
But this future is only a possible future. Today it was announced that elections will be delayed. Again.
One day at a time. And optimism.