Seny Haba

I’ve decided that a post devoted to Haba, and Haba alone, is long overdue. Who is Haba? Formally, he is a STEWARD driver. He picked me up at the airport ferry in Freetown, then showed up the next day to help me get a phone, and to assist with my orientation into Freetown. He later drove me and Susan through Sierra Leone, Guinea, and Cote d’Ivoire, and has since returned to drive me and my research team (of Guineans) back through Cote d’Ivoire, Guinea, and Sierra Leone. So he has pretty much been by my side since I’ve been here, except for a week when he left to take Susan back to Freetown so she could catch her flight back to the states.

When Haba left to take Susan back to Freetown, I felt pretty sad (to make a huge understatement). Because Haba is so so so much more than a driver. He is my most trusted cultural adviser. He handles sensitive community introductions for me. He knows where to go. He knows where not to go. He knows things like how much money it is appropriate to give a village that has just lost a beloved leader. He knows whose hand I need to shake. He knows how to talk his way through disgruntled border police who want money. But aside from cultural advice – he also takes care of (just about) my every need. He procures food, as well as people to prepare food. He knows how much rice I need to buy to feed 5 people in the field for a week. When it comes to purchases- Haba bargains down everything I attempt to buy, and he insists on carrying it back to the car. Plus he lovingly feeds and waters the chickens we have been lugging around (for dinners), because he knows that I don’t like to see the chickens stressed out. Haba even knows that the big Lobi chicken (given as a gift by the chief of the Lobi in Bouan Houe) is my favorite chicken. It is his favorite chicken too, because the Lobi keep very fat and beautiful roosters. The Lobi rooster is magnificent. Much more beautiful than the Mossi or the Yacouba or the Senoufou roosters we were given. (The Lobi chicken is so beautiful that we might not eat it. We might just bring it all the way to Freetown, and buy it a lady friend. Haba will then breed his own Lobi birds, and remember me as they hatch.) Haba knows what I am trying to say when I sputter out what may or may not actually be French - and he helps me figure out how to properly say what I mean. But most important of all, Haba has a fabulous laugh, and we spend most of our car rides together laughing. And he is there to give me a great big bear hug me at the end of the day.

Part of our special bond comes from the fact that one afternoon I casually joked that Haba was like my Guinean father, because he is always taking care of me. This opened the door to a very deep and even more meaningful friendship, one that Haba takes very seriously. The African concept of family is liberal, and generous, and never taken lightly. Thus, Haba does not take his role as my Guinean father lightly. He is my protector. He already was my protector, but since assuming the role of my Guinean father, he is like my personal body guard. He gets very very upset when something happens that might disturb me. When it rains, he ensures that I have a hot bucket bath, and he runs to bring me my raincoat. He makes sure that all my favorite foods are always prepared for me. His wives cooked fufu for me in N’Zerekore, because Haba knows that I like Ghanaian food. His children were ecstatic that I was finally coming, because he spent so much time talking about me. When I arrived, they came running enthusiastically across the yard to hug my legs (when most children scream in horror at me, or simply point and yell Fotay or some other version of “white lady”). Coming to Haba’s house was like a true homecoming.

Very recently Haba gave me a Guinean name. He thought about what name he should give me for several days. He eventually settled in on “Seny” -  so now I am introduced as “Seny Haba” - much to the delight of every Guinean I meat. In Gersay (Haba’s native tounge), Seny means gold. I love it. It fits. And it is a big honor. This is one of the finest names you can be given. When people hear that I have been given this name, they are impressed, and they comment what a fine fine name I have. Haba said the name just came to him, and he knew it was the right name. When I told him that I was born in a town with a lot of Gold mining, he was not surprised, it just helped explain why Seny was the right name for me.

I don’t know what I did to deserve Haba, but I feel very lucky. And I don’t know what people do who don’t have Habas to help them navigate Guinea.

Me and Haba in Madina Oula