There's a man who sleeps in front of our door every night. We know him, sort of. His name is Pierre and he is our sentinelle, our guard. I wonder often if we need to have a guard, and everyone assures me we do. Living in Africa as a stranger means you need a guard outside your door. I have had a lot of experiences with sentinelles, from those who stay in a guard house near the gate of the property to those who are further away, guarding the entrance to campus. But this time, we live in a house, without a fence or a gate, and so I guess that is what merits this man sleeping just outside our door.
We have a porch with iron bars around the front. It would be a nice porch for sitting on at night and looking across into the sky. But Pierre's grass mat takes up most of the space. He usually begins by sitting on the ground in front of the porch. It's a comical image, this small thin man sitting on his large square mat with the pink house looming behind him. It doesn't seem possible he could be guarding any part of it.
Most of the guards I have had experience with are often older men who appear somewhat frail. I am always perplexed about the criteria that has propelled them into the position of guard. Pierre came with the house. He is actually a very good guardian. I hear him getting up every few hours, circling the perimeter, shining his light in all the windows, and checking the doors to make sure they're locked.
I am a very light sleeper and all of Pierre's movements wake me with the rhythm of a newborn. Every two hours the metal gate creaks. I hear his radio emissions, his coughing, and all of the other sounds of humans. I am sure he hears ours. Pierre never gets a day off. He sleeps outside in the rain and in the cool crisp air of the dry season. I have been wondering how to find a solution for this. Of course, it is to hire another guard so they can share hours. I wonder also about Pierre's family, who say goodbye to him every evening and his wife, who sleeps alone every night.
We need another guard at work, so those sentinelles can also have a day off. I wanted to suggest Pierre switch over to that job. It pays better than I can pay. But then I would be left with the problem of finding someone to stay at my place, in much closer proximity than I am really comfortable with.
I was pretty convinced for about two weeks that I didn't need a guard. We have metal bars on every window and metal doors with locks and bolts. I thought I could put a padlock on the gate around the porch and call it good. But then I passed a Twitter photo someone had posted after a break in. Their metal window frames had been ripped from the concrete and were hanging loosely like crepe paper after a Halloween raid. Concrete is nowhere near as solid and strong as I had been led to believe. The thing about having no guard is that, if a band of thieves did show up, there is no one to call. There is no emergency 911 or police response team. I would just be here on my own, waiting it out or worse.
I'd been joking with a colleague about the problem of guards and she recalled a conversation she had with her guard- something about "if I have to kill someone..." to which she said, ooooh no, we're not going that far. But he had slashed someone's leg one time. An intruder trying to get at....whatever is there. Which is really the problem. There's nothing here to take, but no one would assume that. We'd all be getting hurt for nothing.
Guards in Mali had the same preoccupation, only it was a bit more severe. Terrorist intrusion is a much more probable event in Bamako than I imagine it is here. Of course, you're only imagining until it is real. Suddenly, the unlikely is happening and either you're prepared or not.
Here I have heard mostly stories of stealing goats or chickens. We don't have either of those. We do have some electronics, and I suppose those are appealing to a potential thief. I am not opposed to Pierre. I do wish he had a place a bit further than the door. On the rare occasion I have to go somewhere at night, he is quick to question me. Am I really explaining my agenda to a strange man on my porch? Yes, at my age, I must still justify why I would be going out in the dark.
While Pierre seems prepared to tackle night invaders, I have noticed he doesn't consider children part of his duties. The boys often come peering at the windows, asking to be let in, or trying to convince Mbalia to come talk to them. Like everything in Gemena, sometimes it is easy to laugh off and sometimes it is just downright annoying.
I've come to accept we will have a person sleeping on our porch every night, at least for now. We can aspire to a guard house, or a fence, or even a new house in an entirely new area with a yard and a wall and guards who keep their distance. But you can never really escape the experience of having people in your space, milling about, noticing things, needing things, shining lights randomly in the night. It's part of life in Africa as a stranger. Even after 15 years, I still fall into that category. Even here in the village, I am still not part of life.
There is one place where we don't have a guard. One place that feels a bit like home. We miss it. Maybe we'll have a chance to get back there soon. For now, we're managing with the man on the porch.
