01/16/2024 Bikepacking Guinea Day 161 : Diamond Mind

“All these of us work in the diamond mine here.”

“Oh! Diamonds! You must make a lot of money,” I said. That moment, I happened to be looking at the front hub of his motorcycle and noticed that the drum brake wasn’t connected to anything.

“Is your brake ok?” I asked.

“No brake.”

He continued, “There are not many diamonds right now. The work is not good now.”

Next, “Can I have your phone number? I need to work in the United States. There is a lot of money in USA. Here, none.”

I was in a hurry to keep moving. “Do you have a pen?”

“Yes.” He then called to one of the kids, and in the local language, presumably asked them to run to one of the huts to fetch a pen. A few minutes later, the kid returned with a pen.

“What is your number,” he asked.

“Do you have a paper so I can write it for you?”

He called out to the kid again to go fetch a paper. His job interview wasn’t going very well. I didn’t want to wait, so I asked if I could write my phone number on his arm like a high school sweetheart. He obliged.

In case you haven’t heard of “blood diamonds,” here’s a Wikipedia link:

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blood_diamond

West Africa is surprisingly well endowed with resources, making it an interesting topic of discussion why there seems to be so little work here.

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In the same way that I notice things such as disconnected brakes and bald tires, the people here often notice my tiny injury from yesterday. They come to touch the little scab and look at me questioningly. Unfortunately, none of them were related to Jesus or E.T. because it hasn’t healed yet.

Actually, I realized that I have a little more damage than the scrape. I must have bruised a rib because all day, it has hurt to laugh or breathe. It’s just a nuisance pain, though, and not slowing me in any way.

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Today’s ride was difficult by all standards; perhaps the most technical day of the trip. It was also one of the most scenic. The morning was on a dicey rock trail - something like Pauley Creek in Downieville. The afternoon was on a “bug dust” road where you sink a couple inches into a cloud at times.

It is astounding how dry the soil is; last night, everything was soaked again. When the humidity is 100%, it rains inside your sleeping bag. I took a lengthy mid-day stop at a gas station to dry my clothes, bag, and tent. When you can find gas stations, it is a good break; it’s the one place kids don’t seem to be allowed. Instead, it is only adults standing around you and staring. They watch your every move; packing your stuff or drinking your water from a bag. It is as if you were NASA launching the space shuttle for the first time.

Gas stations in Guinea and Sierra Leone seem to function as mini banks. Considering I haven’t gotten any money from an actual bank teller in Africa yet… and only a few of the ATMs on the continent have worked, there is definitely a need for an alternative banking system. In the gas stations, you will often find a big desk scattered with papers. There will be a calculator, and a few men that aren’t lean and muscular like everyone else. Unlike street vendors who use a small bucket or a margarine tub as their cash register for storing all the crumpled and worn bills, the gas station fellas sometimes display thick wads of cash. In some instances, they may even be able to change foreign currency for you.

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Guinea is my kind of place for bikepacking. It has most of what you might look for in a good bike pack route: Challenging terrain, decent camping options, friendly people with big smiles, light traffic. Guinea could be a standalone bikepacking destination by combining the Fouta Djallon highlands I did a few weeks ago along with these highlands here. Today, I also realized another nuisance that is missing from Sierra Leone: Everyone in SL would blare their horn for hundreds of feet before and after they passed you. Guinea seems so peaceful by comparison, with just occasional toots.

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I asked at an electricity store if I could get a replacement headlamp. The teenagers said no, but they told me this 5 year old girl would take me to a place I could get one. I followed her through a circuitous route amongst vendor stalls, detritus, mud, and goats. With the advantage of GPS, I could see that she was taking me back to where we started. Well, not exactly: she took me to the store behind the one where we had started, which could have been reached in 10 seconds from the other side! In the end, they only had a huge battery operated miner headlamp… so I opted for a cheap Chinese solar powered flashlight, which is extraordinarily bright! It’s not the best for stealth camping, but is was only $3.50.

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I took a stealth video of a cookie purchase today. I apologize for the horrific cinematography, but it is the audio that is important. I went to buy 5 packs of cookies and four water bags. I know the prices because I’ve been living on cookies and water the last few days.

The lady said, “19,000” for the whole deal. I knew that was too little, so I asked her to count again. She touched each item: “10,000 plus 10,000 plus 5,000, plus 5,000, plus 5,000, plus 2,000….. that is 19,000”

I’m not great at arithmetic, but I knew that the first two packs of “deluxe” cookies were more than 19,000 by themselves! I kept trying to give her an extra 20,000 bill, and she kept pushing it back! Finally, a girl in the back said, “it’s good, it’s good, it’s good!” The woman was still bewildered as to why I was giving her an extra 21,000. I had to stop recording video to use the French translator on my phone. I told a girl with a sharp mind, “if that is extra, please buy something for the kids.” She understood right away, and they were all cheering and saying “Thank you!!” over and over. In the end, they thought I had given them an extra $2.45 USD… but I think I merely paid the fair price! Hope they don’t play the game of “show me the proof!” Tonight.