Courage, Madame Camara, Courage

It sort of amused me and struck me when the old ex-pat french man who owned the hotel where we lived with the Liberian poets and the monkey said, "Courage, Madame Camara, courage." He said this to me as I walked past him offering the usual Bonjour, his hand extended toward me and the gate that led out of his hotel-schoolyard compound. Courage.
"Je trouve mon courage toujour."
But what about? This is a common saying in Guinee. You need to summon up courage to just wake up, or to walk through the monsoon and heat or to survive malaria. People like to talk about limanya, courage.
And now I need my courage to think about my love on the other side the planet, and getting some kind of job.
Sometimes I let myself have daydreams of seeing Manimou, and they are always great as most daydreams are. But I can't let myself go there to often because I don't know when I will see him again. Within the year for sure.
I remember my neighbor in Guinea asking how long it would be and telling her less than a year. Her husband immigrated to Paris and only see's her every 4 or 5 years. Her own daughter, who is 5, lives with her mother in Coyah, an hour and a half from G'bessia city where she lives and she only see's her once a month.
Rosaline, Manimou's five-year-old daughter, keeps asking where I am and when am I coming back. Manimou told her that I went to N'zerekore with his sister and that maybe, if I could, I'll be back in a few months, maybe July. She'll remember and she'll start asking again and she'll wonder why I haven't come. In her sphere of understanding maybe she'll reason that I got sick and had to spend all my money on medicine. None the less, kid's don't like broken promises and she has had enough of those.
Undoubtedly someone will say the word courage to her, she just needs courage.
I suppose that life is fairly simple.