I MISS ABIDJAN
Oh boy vacation’s about to end in a few weeks and I was thinking about how my vacation would have been if I went to Abidjan. I told Vida during the past semester that I would love to go to back to Abidjan but I just couldn’t. I guess God had other plans and I can’t say this vacation hasn’t been an experience, it really has. I have met new people, I had new ideas, and I finish reviewing, rewriting and redoing three of my books which I have put off for a while now. Well, well, well I am not talking about that today.
Gosh! Sometimes I just sit back and realize I miss Cote D’Ivoire so much. I miss everything there.
I miss having to wake up knowing that I had to find or conjure all the French words in my head because the first person I will meet at work will rub some French in my face. Everybody spoke French, some partially like some teachers I know there (names withheld), some as bad as myself and probably worse 
so everywhere you would hear French. Whether you were in or out? You’d still get French rubbed in your face. There were times I couldn’t understand what someone probably said, I just had to pretend I did, especially when I first got there but sometimes I was practically impossible to ignore or pretend especially when they needed a response. I used to turn to my French speaking uncle for support which sometimes I got other times he just wasn’t going to help. He’d rather give me clues. Damn! I didn’t neeeeeeeeed clues! I remember when I first got there I didn’t even understand when someone asked me how I was doing or said good morning. Sometimes it sounded gibberish that’s why I couldn’t make it out. I felt they talked too fast. I had an experience with Aunt Cecilia, the assistant headmistress, the first day I went to work. She greeted good morning and oh I pretended like it wasn’t me. I didn’t want to be caught in the web. What if I didn’t hear good morning? Then my unsupportive uncle called out to me and said she greeted and then oh I remember what that was in French. Dude my head was working. The most annoying but funny part was in the canteen on the first few occasions. The workers were mostly Ghanaian which meant they could speak my local language but no!!! All I could hear was gibberish! LOL All I thought was ‘in the canteen too! Gosh can I at least not hear any one word in French whiles I was trying to eat the Ivorian dish. (You heard me I said trying!) How long I’m I going to take this?’ I missed English!
I miss the work. I miss typing those letters, réinscription…something about certificat de scolarité (I don’t quite remember) and some others and transcripts. That was a big one in the job. My uncle Isaac usually tossed that one to me. It was easy if you found all the records of the student early otherwise you had to look through files upon files. I must say it was fun but stressful especially when a teacher probably entered and said he wanted a photocopy of something and only two people were allowed to touch the machine, my uncle Isaac and I. It only meant one thing it was I most of the time that had to see to the teachers. I miss the teachers bugging me with photocopies upon photocopies but I loved the part when my aunt Vivian told me she wanted to view all the documents for photocopy before I went through with them. What can I say? It took a lot of pressure off me because there were specific days for photocopying and I could do all at once and I miss the teachers pleading for their copies to be done but…guess what I just couldn’t help them….lol. The part about that photocopying job is was so tiring and stressful was during examinations. Oh My God! They had to be made right in the school and I had to make sure they were done on time and had several copies of the answer sheets the day before. I miss when I didn’t check the calendar properly and when I got home I realized it and couldn’t wait to get to work early the next day to do it before the time was up. I miss having to feel responsible for the question papers and taking them to the exams hall myself. The stressful part was when the teachers in the exams hall weren’t patient enough especially after canteen time. I had other responsibilities you know… lol 
Oh yes! The photocopying was half the real job the real one was the canteen. I had to go there both at ten and twelve to work. There was a system whereby some children had the canteen already paid for in the office, some didn’t. The workers in the canteen didn’t know who was who so I had to make sure those who had paid already where given their fair ration. Sounds easy but it wasn’t. Why? They were children, from grade 1 to grade 12. They won’t be straight in the queue, some would play till recess was over then they would come for food, some tried to mess around and fight and the noise, oh boy… JEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSS! You know the way kids are. Some would even come to you with all sorts of lies, and say they had paid and whiles you looked on the list you had to be looking at the serving going on otherwise someone would be wrongfully served. I can’t even begin to talk about it. I still miss the work in the canteen. I remember one time I asked a 9th grader how old she thought I was and she said I was 26. OMG! 26!!!!!!!!!!! 
:O Is it just me or she didn’t know a thing about faces and ages? I was just 18 or do I look that old? Nope! I always see myself as having a baby face. Hmmmmm or have I been lying to mi self?
I miss the end of the months. You know why? The money! Who said getting paid is not fulfilling? Not that I was spending the money on myself. I wasn’t! When it was time to go I had gathered some substantial amount of money I came invested with when I came back to Ghana. Uh-ha I remember what my huge expenses really where, long distance calls. I miss making long distance calls and the network I was using, KoZ. It was the cheaper to use in calling. I miss having finished making a call then going back out to buy some more to call. The things I mainly did with my salary and any money I got, tithe and credit. I miss my cousins, Abena and Adom complaining about me only buying call credit. They always talked about me not buying clothes and anything. Well, I eventually did but I don’t think it was to their satisfaction but hey I tried.
I miss Tuesday Home Cell meetings. I can tell you honestly that sometimes I really didn’t want to participate but you had no option. Not that you were forced but you just had to. People from church around the neighbourhood came over on Tuesday for cell meeting where we discussed what we had studied at church the Sunday before. Guess what? When you live in a French country, it’s all in French. The one thing I love to do so much also had to be in French. Uncle Isaac had someone translate in church for me during the first few months till I could actually understand myself but I’m sure the annoying thing for my uncle Isaac was that he had to translate for me and them at the cell meetings whatever I had to say and vice versa. He was just lucky I was tired from work so I didn’t say much…but when I starting speaking French myself, I didn’t say much either. Hey I wanted to keep my words short, don’t blame me! lol I miss the members of the cell…there was this guy who always took us in different directions far from the main topic. He deviated too often. I miss Bienvenue, Eric, Tante Christie, Tonton Jacques, Xavier, there was a woman who always sat by the door (I can’t seem to remember her name), and another fair guy who stammered (damn I can’t remember his name) but I miss them all. I miss the prayer topics segment where everyone raised his own topic himself and we all prayed about it. I miss some pray topics of some people especially the marriage one, as for me, when I started speaking French all I thought when it was prayer topic time was, ‘keep it short and simple!’ I miss when everyone at cell meetings looked to my lil cousin Adom to raise a song. There were times when the other French members didn’t show up. Don’t get too excited yet, we still had it. lol During those times my Aunt will ask me to bring a Ghanaian local song. I miss having to go through my head and not finding a single one. I guess French had gotten the better part of me. It was easier to remember a French song than Ghanaian local one.
I miss the French church we went to, Eglise Baptiste. It was French but the Pastor, Pastor Diato (did I get the name and spelling right?) spoke English and French but mainly preached in French so my uncle had to get a translator for me from the first day. He first stopped this younger lady to translate for me who declined when my uncle pointed to me…maybe she was shy (Later it turned out she didn’t speak good English and Ivorians didn’t like getting laughed at. That’s what they thought would happen when they erred in someone’s language and now she going to translate for a pure English person. I don’t blame her) I didn’t have time to laugh at someone else, I had problem grasping the French myself. The annoying thing was when people told you French is easier to learn than English as if that helped. Bottom line I got a nice young gentleman called Elvis to translate for me. He wasn’t so good but I was impressed he wasn’t shy to say what he knew. If he erred I corrected him. He actually encouraged me to learn the French language because although he wasn’t too good he tried and he was able to communicate. I miss when we laughed about some of our mistakes. I miss when he was dancing to songs and still translating them for me. I miss offertory time when everyone went to the front to put their offering in the bowl and there was a little praises afterwards. I miss dancing up to the front like nobody’s business because no-one knew me that well. Although some said I dance well after the service ended, even my Aunt and Uncle who I lived with were surprised the first time they saw me dancing in front. Usually I would wait till after the offering was collected then I would get up and dance to the front. I miss their French songs most and Ghanaian local songs they tried singing. Church was one part of Abidjan I loved. And the beautiful young ladies that I wanted to befriend and talk to but the barrier in communication. OMG! I hated that then but I miss it, constructing French phrases in my head to make conversations with them but boy oh boy, it would have been easier in Ghana. lol
These other issues I’ll talk about in THROUGH MY IVORIAN DIARY 2.
I miss the food.
I miss the teachers and workers who names I can’t begin to mention.
I miss my uncle Isaac.
I especially miss the family I lived with.
I miss bugging my cousin Adom the most.
I miss Tonton Jean
I miss the French movies and television.
I miss the students.
I miss Saturdays.
I miss the public transport.
Join me later in the second part…
