Riots, Meat Loaf, and Pistachio Pudding

Last week, we could sense that trouble was brewing. There was a feeling of uneasiness whenever we went out in public. Even the apartment building guards downstairs, usually very discreet in expressing any political view, were telling us that there would be trouble. But then, Bivan, our driver, assured us that there would be no trouble. Turns out, for once, the infallible Bivan was wrong.

I ended up having to close the school down for two days this week due to some civil unrest in certain areas of Conakry. The official government opposition parties (those who lost the Presidential elections last November, therefore, the losers) called for not only a general strike on Tuesday, but also called for a massive ‘peaceful’ walk of all the people who were unhappy with what the government had accomplished, or rather not accomplished, in it’s first nine months in power. After all, this government had all of 9 months to turn things around for this totally bankrupt failing nation state, which just happens to be the number-7-on-the-UN’s-failed-nations-states-list-of-failed-nation-states, and rebuild all the basic infrastructures needed to run a country. Nothing to it, is there?

Anyways, the plan was that people from all parts of the city would peacefully walk to and converge at the city stadium (which just happens to be a few kilometers from our apartment...oh goody, we will be able to hear all the peaceful protest from our balcony) for an ‘organized’ and ‘peaceful’ rally. Hmmm...what’s wrong with this picture? Let me explain.

First of all, I don’t think the word ‘organized’ exists here in Africa. Secondly, the word peaceful is also cause for concern. This may be a rather stupid question on my part, but what are the chances of peace outlasting anarchy when one attempts to assemble 10,000 hungry, thirsty and above all politically disgruntled people in a stadium on a very hot day, yelling at them for a few hours through an annoying broken PA system that their government is not doing its job. Last time that was attempted (September 28, 2009), the military rushed in, lost control, opened fire, and 148 people were slaughtered. Tuesday’s rally would coincide with that particular massacre...not a good omen, I would think.

Last Sunday, the government decreed that there would be no assembling or walking on Tuesday, strongly advising (as in, ordering) people to stay home, and declared Conakry to be a ‘ville morte’ on Tuesday, a term meaning that the whole city would shut down for the day. This is when I decided that our school would also be a 'école morte'; we would shut her down for the day.

Obviously, the government’s official decree put a damper on the people who wanted to protest. Some groups however did go out and attempted to organize some kind of protest. Riots ensued with the usual burning tires, rock throwing, tear gas and heads being bashed in. At the end of the day, the score sheet was not as daunting as it was 2 years ago: a mere 48 injured/mained/intensive care, and 2 dead.

Of course, Madeleine and I stayed hunkered down in our apartment that day. After all, we are Canadians, and Canadians always listen to what the government says. To us it was like a 'snow day' back in Canada, or a 'bomb day' in Saudi Arabia. We caught up on some school stuff, watched a few episodes of LOST, Season 5, learned how to make wontons on the Food channel, slept, and made ourselves comfort food befitting any snow/bomb/riot day: meat loaf and pistachio pudding.

Our neighborhood was quiet. At one point, we even ventured out for awhile for a short walk. There were lots of gendarmes out, friendly and laid back, but with lots of gendarmes paraphernalia very much in evidence, guns and clubs dangling from their shoulders. Impressive. No military in sight though. The government had cloistered them in their cages/barracks for the day. Smart move.

At 10Pm, our third episode of LOST was interrupted by a phone call from one of the teachers from the school. The President had just made another decree : tomorrow was declared a national day of prayer and reconciliation. No businesses, government offices, or schools would be open. Another smart move by the government, keeping people off the streets and give time for tempers to cool down. I had to activate the phone tree to advise parents that the school would not re-open until Thursday.

The following day, Madeleine and I prayed and reconciled at the pool. I decided that I could very well get used to a weekly national day of Prayer and Reconciliation. That evening for dinner, we had the left over remnants of the riots of the day before, meat loaf and pistachio pudding. And that's the kind of week it's been.