Dominges Ramos is a very famous man here in Bissau, although I’m still
not 100% clear on why that is. He is my Step dad’s older brother and his
daughter is Ramos’ niece. A couple days ago her husband passed away and had a
funeral ceremony at her home in Gabu. We
drove the 4 hours out to Gabu to attend the ceremony.
We were supposed to leave the house at 9am. Ramos predicted we wouldn't leave till much later and true to Guinean form we left the house at almost 1. The drive was
long, but I slept most of the way there nestled in between my dad’s
heavier set niece and 6 foot 4 nephew.
We arrived in Gabu around 5 and found some chairs to occupy
in the back. I can never tell if people can speak Portuguese or not. Since I don't speak creole, Portuguese is my main form of communication. In Gabu
you have some people who don’t even speak Creole, only Fula. I spoke with Ramos’ nephew, who, like my step-dad, also grew
up in Portugal. He is now living in Bissau and has an export business for rice and other staples from Europe
to Bissau.
There were lots of women cooking and that’s pretty much what
happened the whole night. I watched as they slaughtered a pig, butchered it,
then seasoned and cooked it. I can’t say I’ve
ever seen the process from a whole live animal to a meal on a plate in one sitting. A women I had met days before named Maria brought some fish from Bissau to cook. I helped her out, and by ‘help’ I mean held
her flash light while she gutted and cooked the fish.
The night was incredible. The sky was glittering with stars and
everyone was out side cooking and talking. Some folks brought out some drinks and
Ramos' neice made a rum infused drink with herbs from the yard and some lime.
They also had this crazy coconut infused, sweetened condensed milk drink that
is as thick as condensed milk. It was suuuuuuuper strong, but also really sweet to match.
I slept in a bed with 3 or four other people. I'm not exactly sure about the number
because people just kept coming and going from the bed. The vultures crash landing on the
tin roof woke me up. It was only 7am and the bed was already empty. I got up and joined
one of the guys who was sent to buy some tooth brushes at the market. Along the way he gave me a tour of
part of Gabu. It’s a small town with lots of houses and huts. The biggest market in Bissau
is in Gabu, so we went to check out what all the talk is about.
After breakfast we headed back to Bissau. We stopped at
another market along the way and Ramos’ niece bought milk that looked like
runny cottage cheese. Apparently there are things, like milk, that you can only
get in Gabu. You can get milk in Bissau but it is boxed and imported from Europe. I’m
talking about fresh milk that only lasts a day or two.
Gabu is the home of many cows and thus, cow herders. My dad told me about how growing up in Bissau he was a cow herder. In my mind I created an image of what that might look like. On the drive home we had to pull over 3 separate times to let heards of 40+ cows run by. My mental image was far from what I experienced.
Gabu is the home of many cows and thus, cow herders. My dad told me about how growing up in Bissau he was a cow herder. In my mind I created an image of what that might look like. On the drive home we had to pull over 3 separate times to let heards of 40+ cows run by. My mental image was far from what I experienced.
We also got attacked by women selling food on the road. I was sitting in the middle and I had bags of
potatoes and oranges in my face from everyone trying to make a sale. Competition
is fierce! Ramos’s niece grabbed one bag and paid. We said we were done, but we had to start driving away
before anyone would take their arms out of the car.
To give that some context, on the way to and from Gabu there
are stops where police had us get out and show our passports and identification and ask where we
were going. At these stops lots of people congregate because it’s a chance to sell
food to hungry travelers. You’ll find bananas, oranges, peanuts, drinks, potatoes,
and other tubers. I even saw someone butchering a cow at one of the stops. But stopping and showing our passport was
kind of intimidating. Sitting in a row on the side of the road are men and
women dressed in military uniform carrying guns (not all of them). It felt so informal and simultaneously unpredictable, like anything (good or bad) could have happened. But apparently they are on high alert since the
coup in April. They have cracked down on who is and can traveling with in the county.
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