I lived in Guinea,
West Africa, for two years with my husband, who worked for a mining company in
the village of Kamsar. The ex-patriot ladies (maybe 35 or so) went every year
to this small village to buy pots to use as planters for flowers, etc. And in
my case, to bring back home with me to Canada. Every year as I pull them from
the shed, it reminds me of this incredible time.
West Africa, for two years with my husband, who worked for a mining company in
the village of Kamsar. The ex-patriot ladies (maybe 35 or so) went every year
to this small village to buy pots to use as planters for flowers, etc. And in
my case, to bring back home with me to Canada. Every year as I pull them from
the shed, it reminds me of this incredible time.
Yesterday as I was cleaning them in preparation for re-potting,
I decided I wanted to share some of these photos with you of the day’s fun. As
you can see by the clothes that the villagers are wearing, they consider it a festivity
to have visitors to their small home and they make it into a celebration of
sorts.
I decided I wanted to share some of these photos with you of the day’s fun. As
you can see by the clothes that the villagers are wearing, they consider it a festivity
to have visitors to their small home and they make it into a celebration of
sorts.
The favourite pastime of the day was having me take pictures
of them (with my new digital camera) and then they would rush over to me and
look at the photo in the back lens. They thought this magical and couldn’t
understand how it worked (not surprising, since neither can I??) After the
event, as promised, I made up a bunch of copies and sent them back to the
village so they could each have a memento of the day with the Fotays (white
ladies).
of them (with my new digital camera) and then they would rush over to me and
look at the photo in the back lens. They thought this magical and couldn’t
understand how it worked (not surprising, since neither can I??) After the
event, as promised, I made up a bunch of copies and sent them back to the
village so they could each have a memento of the day with the Fotays (white
ladies).
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| I love children and these are so special! |
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| The young teen boys trying to look “cool!” Typical, eh? |
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| Dinner! Smelled great! Looked yucky! |
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| Mom’s are alike everywhere in the world. Except this one was willing for me to adopt her baby and take her back to my home with me so she would have a better life! I was SO shocked and SO tempted. |
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| Young girls with their mama’s keeping watch. |
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| Working on one of the pots. |
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| She’s either the chief’s wife or a very popular woman of the village…ahem! I never did get that straight. |
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| What we came to buy. The famous pots cooling after being baked. |
It’s an experience I’ll never forget and every spring I’m reminded by my beautiful pots.
Coming Soon!
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| www.freepartay.com |
Great post Mimi. Thanks for sharing such an interesting time in your life. It must be wonderful to touch the pots and remember.
Best
Jo-Ann
Your photos brought back memories of our trip through Africa. I love all their colorful clothes and they always looked spotless.
Thanks for sharing, Mimi!