A Rough Guide to Peace Corps The Gambia on a Lonely Shoestring

This next entry is a small compilation of lists meant to help all those preparing to dedicate their hearts, souls, healthy looking skin and lamp-light bedside reading to making a positive difference in the lives of those who may have never even been taught to make sense of the character combinations, much less doing it by the light of an incandescent/fluorescent/light emitting diode bulb.

“How the heck do you fit the next two years of a life that’s unforeseen into two checked bags weighing less than 50lbs each and a carry-on tote?” you may be asking yourself… Well the great thing is that you don’t; you just have to get yourself started and hopefully these little personally suggested lists will help you do just that. They’re not comprehensive by any means and not particularly in any order; just what came to mind at the time.

Don’t Leave Home Without it!
1. MP3 player with gazillions of space for music and movies and a couple of pairs of ear buds (there a couple of ways to exchange music with other volunteers, too)
2. Portable speakers (if you find any that don’t take batteries, get those)
3. Shortwave radio (best way to get that hot scoop, from Burma to beauty store grand openings)
4. A handful of books you’ve always wanted to read (there’s a magnificent book exchange among PCVs to help you out after you plow through those. I’ve found myself reading authors here that were painful to even think about decoding their writing back in the States, so bring ‘em on! Also, I didn’t so much as turn a page during training, but now it’s a tie for #1 pastime only because you can’t run for 3 hours in the afternoon when you lose enough salt to fill a diner shaker by just sitting)
5. Camera (duh), bendy tri-pod
6. Pictures of friends and family
7. Re-chargeable batteries & re-charger (can be charged when you make friends with the dudes who have current near village or always in the Kombos)
8. Your comfort pillow or blanket
9. Handful of good pens and stationary
10. Solio brand mini portable solar charger (good for mobile phones and mp3 players just in case)
11. Ear plugs and a face mask (unless waking up to pray is in your cultural exchange plan)
12. Running shoes
13. Portable hobby you’ve always had or always wanted to take up (yoga mat, ukulele, knitting needles, acrylic paints, etc.)
14. Sandals (whichever design you’d like to impressively display once they are removed to enter a neighbors home)
15. Quickly drying, loose fitting clothes: calf-ankle length skirts, tanks (even spaghetti strap is okay but I prefer to shield my shoulders from the sun with light weight t-shirts) and pants are appropriate in village for women. In the Kombos shorts are more acceptable if you feel comfortable. And make all of us oldies jealous by bringing a couple of cute sun dresses and a swim suit (there’s sure to be an occasion for EVERY form of attire you chose to stuff in the suitcase)
16. The kind of hat you never get sick of wearing, whatever that might be
17. Inexpensive sunglasses (they’re sure to break at some point, but you can get classy Dior knockoffs to replace them, don’t worry)
18. That safe plastic kind of water bottle; personal size thermos (keep your colds colder or your hots hotter, longer)
19. Assortment of camping-like supplies: headlamp, Leatherman-type thingy, sturdy pocket knife, Duct tape (I really wish I’d brought a small tent. Although at times it feels like I’m permanently camping, joining friends at a campout on the beach can’t be beat.)
20. A hefty supply of your favorite non-perishable comfort foods to get you started till the care packages start rollin’ in.
21. A good supply of your must have brand toiletries
22. Battery operated fan
23. Flash drive
24. Day planner
25. Glasses and/or contacts
26. Feminine hygiene products
27. Cell phone to be unlocked once in country
28. WA and UK outlet converters
29. Small umbrella


Leave it at Home!
1. Hiking boots
2. 20 of any one toiletry item
3. Tons of over the counter meds and sunscreen (you’ll get a med-kit you’ll never completely get through, as well as replenished items that you do after you swear in)
4. Random give away things for kids and really anyone else (this just sort of becomes a big mess for everyone involved, so we bleeding heart-type need to plan these things carefully)
5. West Africa/ Gambia guide books (a plethora of copies of these are floating around or can be borrowed from other PCVs)

Frivolous Buying in Country Just Might Break the Bank (But sometimes you just need a gallon of ice cream)
1. Batteries
2. Western grocery store items
3. Booze
4. Solar setups
5. Most electronic devices (i.e. cell phone, camera, TV, shortwave radio, microwave…)


Affordable for Your Pocketbook and Conscience and Available in Country
1. Replenishing toiletries (soap, shampoo, toothbrush, toothpaste, razors…sparingly)
2. Cooking supplies and utensils for village
3. Linens
4. Hut furnishings (i.e. bed, mattress, wardrobe, kitchen counter, side tables, chairs; you’ll either accumulate some from previous PCVs or be able to slowly buy them in order to create a home out of your house)
5. Random replenishables (flip flops, sunglasses, second hand clothes, super glue)

You’ll Find Comfort if You Find Space
1. A snazzy pair of shoes
2. Cute earrings/jewelry
3. Pretty shirts/dresses
4. More hobby equipment (Frisbee, etc.)
5. More food
6. Binoculars
7. Map/blow up globe
8. Wall decorations
9. Address book
10. French press/ reusable coffee filter and delicious coffee/ tea strainer and tasty tea

Some volunteers brought their laptops, but I’ve gotten along just fine without one, so it’s up to you on that one. There are obviously many variables that go into this one, too.

Okie dokie, well I miss you guys and would love to hear from you soon soon!

Love,
Court

Winter’s A Go-Go under an Eternal Summer’s Sun

Cool. Calm. Collective. Okay, so two out of three aint so bad. It’s blazin hot and every time I happen to glance over at my little battery operated all-in-one digital clock/calendar/thermometer I find an exponential increase of numbers in all respective categories. I still shouldn’t complain too much about the heat A) because I’m not all the way up country where a flame is not the only thing that makes a candle drip wax and B) I found myself cast in the “poor college student” role in those Oklahoma August days and limited the AC as much as was tolerable, so I should be somewhat more acclimated than my fellow PCVs who spent most of their days in more temperate climates, right? Well, all of that logical thinking gets thrown out the Gele window like the empty 1 Dalasi bags of what once contained 45 flavorful seconds of enjoyment in the form of frozen Baobab juice, known locally as “icees”. All of that gets left behind like the school child trying to learn math in a language that is rarely spoken back at the compound. All of that gets trumped when you get ill. I was working on a record of 5 months clean of parasites, fever, dysentery, skin irritants, etc., but the winds are blowing and it’s hot and sand and dirt and bacteria and viruses find themselves into every part of your world, including your cells. It’s strange, too, because you can feel it coming on, but you can’t quite exactly tell how under the said weather you are. You start second guessing yourself: maybe it’s just the heat; I can still manage that bucket of water on my head so it can’t be that bad. I’d be sweating this much anyway, right? So you continue overexerting yourself until someone rational suggests recuperating in more familiar comfort (but still not THAT comfortable) like that of the PC hostel and then you realize you’d be silly to compromise the overexertion back home and take those small, but important steps to convalescence… And then it’s still hot.

Gambia seems to exude this “way” (some might call it playful if wishing to anthropomorphise the country- I’ll just call it special) of deciding things for you. Let’s take, for example, the time of day conducive to blog-writing mood: 1:30am. Of course, I went to bed for the first time hours ago, but thanks to Africell, the nocturnally noisy compound dog who takes it upon himself to protect us from even the crickets in Bafuloto, I soon became wide awake. I should note, though, that I was laying on my outside bed, writing under a sky that might cause Van Gough to emerge from the grave with canvas and paint brush in hand to create what would make his original one obsolete. I’ll refer you to the previous paragraph of temperature for the explanation of this semi-permanent camping decision. Ironically, this too, turns out to be one of those romantic inconveniences as soon as the sky opens its taps, automatically creating the only occasion in which all of Gambia has running water, as the rainy season is once again upon us.

A typical conversation opener among fellow H&CD PCV friends:
“Is that ringworm on your lower leg?” my endearing friend, Chris asks. Naw, I explain, I just got a tattoo in the form of a Rorschach ink-blot gratis from a jellyfish a few weeks ago (a few days after this conversation, someone really did ask if I’d gotten a tattoo gone badly). “Did it hurt?” Yeah, it stung for like 2 ½ hours. “Did you pee on it?” Considered it, but decided to go with a soap and water approach instead (which made it clean, but did nothing for the pain). You think I should get this fungus on my toes checked out; or is it maybe just a blood blister under the skin…?

Lately I’ve been spending more of my time on the cultural aspect of service. The Roots homecoming festival took place a couple of weeks ago and I managed to catch the part towards the end of the week where it was held at the President’s home village of Kanalia. I arrived by Gele, meeting another volunteer who came on bike, just as one of the first major rains ensued. The festival began and continued full speed ahead with Guinean dancing and marches with masks, then the man himself arrived and the focus shifted until past our bedtime, so we adventurously made our way to our sleeping arrangements at another volunteer’s home a few villages away. I’m sure we were deep in Larium induced dreams by the time the supposed fire dancing and knife ingesting activities commenced.

In Bafuloto, my focus has been on appreciating the ability to try to make things grow. Thus far I’ve been pretty successful with my leg hair. Haha, just kidding (sort of). My host brother helped me fence in a small area behind my backyard bathroom, as well as dig a compost pit, so the last month has been dedicated to getting bacteria to grow and break down the cow poop, grass and food particles I went around collecting on my head, in order to trick that arid sand into thinking it was living in northern California. I went ahead and sowed a few cashew, pigeon pea and Indian jujube trees (that dried fruit seed I fell in love with called Tomburongo), as well as some herbs, in polypots when I started the compost, so those are just about ready for out planting. Then, last week, I finally made my beds, with clean, fitted sheets of compost hopefully enticing enough for those romantic little veggie seeds to sprout. And no matter how long it’s been since I’ve seen it, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get over the beauty of the growing, little eyes on the man on the moon; its gradual illuminating presence exudes a sense of peace and purpose over my dynamic and often vulnerable world.

Speaking of growing, ever since I began Peace Corps, I drew this strange comparison of likening the 27 months of service to someone potentially carrying to three full terms. Don’t even ask me where I came up with that thought, but now I can’t help but think that so far, somewhere, my service has coincided with two full terms which presumably resulted in new lives, leaving but one more term to be carried through to the end. Two thirds of one, 9 months of another; no matter how you slice it, there’s never enough to go around. How do you begin to explain the concept of buying enough of the government’s subsidized rice (until September, that is) to save and store when A) the compound is on a bag to bag budget and mindset, B) rice is considered a status food that even the most vulnerable aren’t willing to compromise, C) bio-fuel supply side economics is about as foreign as is equally detrimental as that donation of 25 REALLY ancient computers to a school with a generator with fuel only half the time and no IT instructor hired along with the donation in order to show the students how to use these archaic machines.

Alrighty, enough straining your peepers on this computer screen! Go outside and enjoy some fresh June air with a four legged friend who is itching run after something. Then come back and write me a letter and mail it. I miss seeing you guys; it’s already been too long.

Love, Court

BTW, I just finished reading The Sex Lives of Cannibals by J. Maarten Troost and found it a little too easy to relate to his travelogue. I’m recommending it because it’s another perspective of some things similar to my way of life, it’s pretty entertaining, and if you read it you’ll find yourself sending me random questions (anything to keep the communication going across continents!)


And I've uploaded more pictures.

So it’s officially official (as obviously most of the blog postings represent, otherwise it probably wouldn’t be worth writing about): we’re 2nd year H&CD PCVs! I’d like to comfort myself and everyone else with the “It’s all down hill from here” mantra, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that it’s better to be pleasantly surprised with lower expectations than to get disappointed about challenges out of my control, so I know my “decent” will probably still be somewhat of a bumpy ride, like peregrinating down the pot-holed south bank road, packed like sardines in the gele with a few goats sprinkled on top. And although I haven’t been climbing since the States, I’m not naïve to the fact that the path to the summit is only half way there and that most accidents occur on the way down and personally, that part of climbing scares those sticky rubber shoes right off my feet. Speaking of climbing, one of the staff subscribes to Urban Climbing (it only took me a year to discover this) and lo and behold, it was laden with Norman’s own! What an amazing unexpected connection to make and show to my friends; the articles written by and pictures taken of friends from my climbing community back home. Props especially to all the people involved with Rocktown. The hard work appears to be making a positive impact and word is certainly getting around in more media ways than one!

Anyway, a lot has been going on like I mentioned in the previous post, so I’ll take a little time to catch you all up. First of all, I’m no longer “Brikamankoolu” (people from Brikama), but now a resident of the smaller and more rural, yet familiar village of Bafuloto. It’s about 5k north of Brikama and actually fairly close to some mangroves on the river. My friend Rachel and one of the generous PC drivers helped me complete the move and another one of my new sitemates helped me get started with settling into the 2 room mud house in Juff Kunda, where bucket baths under the starts and dinner by candle light offer that strange combination of romance and slight inconvenience/discomfort. The compound consists of a stylish and vivacious matriarch who can’t be too far from the century mark. My host mother sells veggies at the “market” which consists of 2 vendors (herself and another old woman) on the main street of what I picture could be an old, dusty western ghost town except that the presence of one of the world’s largest and oldest trees, the Baobab, puts things back in perspective. Two of her sons stay in the compound across the way: one with his wife and 3 girls (twins about the age of 3 and my 6 month old namesake) and the other with his 2 young boys. There’s another young woman with a girl about 3 and a boy a little over a year that fits into the combination somehow, as well. They’re all super sweet and welcoming thus far, even offering assistance on starting my garden the way I’d like, when I’m ready. The dog in the compound is called Africell, one of the mobile operators, so I suggested naming the two nameless cats after the other two operators, Gamcell and Comium, which they really got a kick out of.

The World Wide Peace Corps Director ended a three country tour of West Africa with Gambia at the end of the H&CD swearing in. The day after swearing in was dedicated to 2nd & COSing H&CD PCVs (by the way, PC is hiring acronymists if you know any). ASK was honorably asked to be on the schedule, so the whole entourage came to see the Center and all its renovations. After a brief explanation of projects and clinical questions, we caravaned to the village of Busura with PC The Gambia staff, PC Washington, and ASK beekeeping professionals. They all got an up close observation of a traditional village, as well as some hives, which presumably stoked the fire for his attendance for the succeeding first day of the Agro-Forestry sector’s In-Service Training (IST), which began with an intensive three-day beekeeping session. After the beekeeping sessions, I decided to join in on some continuing education with a few of my fellow 2nd year H&CD volunteers who like to pretend we’re Ag-Fo’s who just happen to be knowledgeable in health stuff, too. We participated in a lot of hands on sessions that included tree-identification, tree grafting (I feel like a tree surgeon now) tree nursery and garden bed know-how as well as improved compost techniques and organizations existing in Gambia trying to improve small scale farming businesses and introducing alternative water withdrawal methods. It was all very useful, even if what was learned was that some of the organizations sustainability approaches were better and more respectful than others.

“Why are there armed soldiers driving through the farm right behind us?” Everyone got pretty distracted, not to mention nervous when we saw the security car during one of our training sessions at the commercial farm. Turned out, the president of the Gambia, himself, decided to drop by for a surprise tour of the farm. CRAZY!!! His attendances at even the most prestigious events seem to be sporadic, so we all had our doubts we’d actually see him in person, but sure enough, a small parade of his staff and aids as well as media figures began strolling down one of the lanes right behind where we were talking about poop for composting. Wait, wait, it gets better. One of the media guys came over and told us he thought we should meet him, and ended up waving us over after he saw another garden bed. We introduced ourselves as Peace Corps and he began shaking our hands while we greeted him in local languages!!!! Needless to say, I’ve made it on the nightly news in the presence of not one, but two of probably the most important individuals that represent my Peace Corps experience in less than one week. Like I said, CRAZY!

These next few weeks will be spent continuing introducing myself to Bafuloto, as well as helping the PCV who took my place at Allatentu with her transition. I’ve got a wealth of information and inspiration for getting my garden started as well as a small tree nursery before the rains come in a few months.

I just wanted to say thank you for the continued support in the form of letters, emails, prayers, thoughts, packages, phone calls, etc. I do have one constructive critique, though, if sending a package. Since it’s pretty difficult to properly dispose of large amounts of waste, it helps to be mindful of packaging of products. If possible, look for goods that have minimal packaging, especially plastic. If not, try to remove as much prior to boxing it up. Toss it in your recycling bin and save on the grams of weight that mysteriously add up to extra money. That way you're saving the green stuff in the environment, as well as in your pocket book! Ha!

Roscoe's favorite season

Naa ye meng je a laata wo le la: Seeing is believing.

This seemed like an appropriate Mandinka proverb to begin this entry with, with regard to some of the events scheduled to take place in the near future, as well as some that already have.

March 16th was a day what will go down in history in my book. It was the day I had all but given up hope on, only to be humbled by its arrival and elated by its ending. When Jalibah Kuhateh decides to come to play in Brikama, he really comes to play. After a year of planning and re-scheduling, the ASK Benefit Concert featuring the Kora player himself, became the 3rd concert he performed that week in Brikama. I wasn’t even convinced it would actually happen, even though chairs were set up and equipment was on stage, until the man showed up and started singing. I’m not exactly sure how much was raised, but watching the support members, each dressed as if they were accepting their own Oscar, dance, laugh and throw themselves whole-heartedly into the gala, was one of those MasterCard moments. After singing along and dancing to Jalibah for a while, the Support Band CD was played in memory of Fatou Ceesay, a beloved member of the group and singer in the band whose passing last summer was unfortunate and untimely.

Here are a few other events that have pre-occupied my Gambian world during the past month:

* Visiting Tendaba Bird Camp, the ol’ training stomping ground, for the first time again in a year. We (a co-worker from HOC, a member of ASK and I) went there to attend a counterpart workshop for the new health trainees who will be swearing in, in about 3 weeks. My site-change request was very well received by Admin, even to the extent that HOC and ASK will benefit from yet another passionate and qualified PCV, which is why we went to the workshop at Tendaba in the first place.

*Preparing to move to Bafuloto, a small village about 5k away from Brikama, towards the river. Bafuloto is like that pesky neighborhood boy you grow up with, only to find yourself crushing on him hard core after you both come back from college, which eventually ends in a blissful marriage. I’ve been passing the village on my evening runs for about 6 months now, and encountered the normal kiddo toubab harassment, but still managed to greet the villagers in a friendly way from time to time. Without even realizing it, the superficial relationships I’ve built under ephemeral circumstances have proven so far to be a comforting cushion after months of rocky indecisiveness. In a few weeks, I’ll begin the slow transition of easing out of my traditional routine of a semi-structured program officer role with ASK and HOC, while introducing the new PCV to the scene. At the same time, building new and valuable relationships with my host family and other residents of Bafuloto, as well as integrating into the community much like what took place in that original “3 month challenge”, will once again commence. I finally feel confident with this decision and am pretty excited to get a chance to assume some traditional PCV projects that extend oneself as simply another member of the community. Besides creating a sanctuary-like safe space out of my new two-room, electricity and plumbing-free house, some plans for the next few months include the following: increase proficiency in my language skills, set up a veggie and flower garden and compost pit before the rains come in June, spend time cooking with my sweet-natured host sister, Nday, so as to learn how to cook Gambian dishes while introducing additional local nutrients, visiting the women’s gardens, creating a list of ideas about simple health projects through general observation and introduction to the community. The list of possibilities of interests and opportunities goes on and on in my mind and I get pretty stoked when thinking about implementing them over the next year.

*Attending an annual culture festival in the village of Kartong over the Easter weekend, as well as visiting friends who live amongst one of the few Christian communities in Gambia. Some fellow PCVs and I found ourselves in a hidden, rustic jewel of a “tourist” lodge a few weekends ago, where beach time consumed the day and snake charmers and fire breathers dazzled us during the night. The next day, when I approached the ferry in Banjul to get to my Easter destination, I found the terminal to be eerily unoccupied. Instead of the giant ferry that usually carried individuals and vehicles across the river, there were a series of mid-sized fishing boats crowded with people. I didn’t think twice about boarding to get across, until about mid way through the sloshing waters, I wondered why my friend had failed to mention this alternative way of crossing. I’d assumed this was the standard way since I’d heard the ferry had been intermittent lately. Then, as we approached our destination and the method of disembarkation became clear (mounting on the shoulders of a boat boy wading in water up to his waist, while another took your baggage), I realized I was one of those few, lucky PCVs who had “come over on the boat”. Makes for a good story, anyway… Over the course of the weekend, I attended an Easter service given in Mandinka and Balanta (the Christian tribe in that area) and ate more protein in the form of meat than I probably had in the past 3 months.


The next few weeks will continue to be filled with activity, with the new trainee’s site visit to her new site (my current house) in Brikama and my move to Bafuloto. Before we know it, it will be time for their swearing in, at which time the director of the US Peace Corps program and African Regional director will tour The Gambia for the first time since PC The Gambia. I feel honored to report that one of ASK’s programs of beekeeping and the cashew orchard, will be on the program of their tour. Then after that, I’m hoping to attend the Agro-forestry In-Service Training to enhance my skills at fruit tree grafting, composting and garden maintenance as well as solar fruit drying! Woo-hoo!

I still miss you guys, though and need your support through letters and emails. You should really still think about visiting, but care packages may have a similar affect on my well being for the time.

The following sent would absolutely ensure more than malaria for your gift from The Gambia:

*Letters and pictures
*DVDs of The Office from season 3-on (come on people, PLEASE help me out here)
*DVDs of Greys Anatomy from season 3-on
*MP3 CDs of music and books on tape
*Candy like Starbursts, Tootsie Rolls, Laffy Taffy, Skittles, really just about anything
*Dried fruit, nuts (not peanuts)
*Magazines like Jane and Marie Claire
*AAA, AA & 9V batteries (re-chargeable with charger if you feel generous)
*Cooking herb seeds, flower seeds and veggie seeds
*Herbal teas like that Celestial Seasonings variety pack with the chamomile with lemon

Okay, stop procrastinating and go do your taxes!

I love you!! Courtney

Link for Info for Visiting Added

It's the "golden ticket" one, just in case you couldn't tell. That should get you started, anyway. Write me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Can a telepathist telepathically telepath their own future? Answer me that one, yo!

Wow, I logged on to this thing the other day to realize it’s already almost been a full month since the last substantial entry. Further proof to myself that the time here must have a larger wing span (or more feathers) than it does in the States. It’s been about 2 weeks since the Dakar adventure. It was the general consensus upon returning to greet my Gambian friends and co-workers that, along with many tall buildings, lots of people and a variety of types of bread, Dakar also attracts a large number of thieves. At least, that’s what they conveyed by sharing their equally upsetting incidence of a beloved possession taken directly from their bodies, when I brought up the detail that my camera was stolen in the busy, tree-lined sidewalk city. I’d also just like to take a second to point out the irony of the lost camera dream here and that if you refer to the picture and description on Flickr about the "marathon march", one may find it interesting that it was not the first time a dream projected a slightly altered reality. All and all, though, the trip was fun. Transport is always a harried experience and I know for sure the thief is not nearly enjoying the picture of the set plaus (station wagon) we rode 7 hours in from the border to our final destination as much as you guys would, but such is the case. Both our softball teams (competitive and social) got more praise for the “Bumster” meshed-shirt uniforms than our playing skills, and at one point during the tournament I felt as if I’d been teleported back to a little league game when I exchanged a paper ticket for a bag of Tropical Skittles a the concession stand.

Catching a glimpse of a more urbanized developing African country’s capital, still obviously in need of multiple urban planner’s 21st century opinions, but one that definitely has a head start on Banjul, made me extremely curious to see how cities like, say, Nairobi, Kampala or even Addis Ababa and ultimately Cape Town were constructed and how they’re currently laid out and what some of the factors are that led to their current state of development. Even at the outskirts of Dakar, the obviously utilized train tracks conveyed that we were about to enter a whole new world. Any second, I was expecting a genie to escape from the gas tank or for our car to take flight aboard a plastic prayer mat or something. (That station wagon was such a piece of work, that nothing would have surprised me; I’m so bummed you can’t see it now!) But instead, we motored on, over overpasses, along side establishments strategically constructed into the sides of the cliffs along the Atlantic, like the layers of a multi-tiered wedding cake. One of my favorite parts of the whole business? Riding one of the city bus lines that picked us up practically right outside our home stay’s door and dropped us off at the softball fields for about 1/5 of the taxi price.

On my way back, I made a detour to a fellow health volunteer’s site in Albreda/ Juffure to catch up a little and observe some of the historical remnants of the 17th century. I got my hands on a copy of Roots a while ago from a neighbor in my compound, but was only able to get through about 1/3 of it before he requested it back. I can’t remember if I wrote about some of the comparisons in the blog and I can’t decide if it’s a positive or negative acknowledgement that the opening paragraph described the sounds and smells I wake up to, such as the women pounding millet in big, wooden mortars, still on a daily basis.

Well, I think I’ve clued a few of you in on a current struggle I’ve been having about my place and plans for the next year and there after, and since right now I feel like I need all the support I can get, I might as well fill the rest of you in on it, too. After several whole weeks of balancing on the proverbial fence (even when I was so sure of the decision during my visit over Christmas), I realized I’m just not ready to move on from this experience. I know I can always leave, but when I do, that’s it for this one. It’s over. And I’m just not ready for it to be over quite yet. That said, there are changes I’d like to make in order to have a more “traditional” next year and am working closely with admin to help make that happen. The new Health and Community Development trainees swear in late April, so that is the projected time frame for my alterations for service (which I’ll describe later once they become more concrete).

I also know that right about now, all of you are secretly doing a jig at your desks after reading this because you’ve always wanted to travel to West Africa and now you have the perfect excuse: to see and support a good friends, niece, daughter, sister, co-worker, fellow climber (whatever our relation) and maybe experience some of what you’ve been reading this past year. Don’t let the thought of airfare weigh you down; since once you get here you could have a free place to stay, and depending on your degree of needs, your total daily expenditure here could be comparable to achieving your single, daily caffeine habit back home. I’ll only make you eat with your hands once, then after that, you can lounge on a hammock on a beach and look at pretty birds if you want. Really, though, what I’m reaching out for from my Stateside cheerleaders, is support through communication because even though I’m generally happy and integrated here, I know there is a possibility of rockier times ahead. Letters are still the most amazing pick-u-up, but I’ll never turn down a bag of Starburst. (Or now that it’s Easter season, Cadbury Mini-Eggs, the mini candy coated chocolate eggs in the purple bag, and Jelly Beans, please!!!!!!!)

So, I’ve officially seen this place come full circle. Still, the most notable marker, besides the weather and increasingly unbearably hot afternoons, is the contents of the market (which, I guess logically thinking, go hand in hand). I was teased a few weeks ago when my neighbor, Awa, gave me my first mango of the season. Her tree must be taking its vitamins or something because all the other trees in the area still have fruits hanging like tiny Christmas tree ornaments, a blatant sign that no one else will be getting their own does of vitamin C for at least another month and a half. I was pleasantly surprised to see tomburango (Chinese Dates) back in abundance upon returning from Dakar, which literally brings back sweet memories, but figuratively leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, thinking about the vulnerable and difficult period I had entered after swearing in. On the nuttier side of things, the cashew fruit, my favorite whole food in country, is about to make a booming come back. It amazes me to look back and realize that I’d never really questioned where most of my nourishment came from before I came here; but I was pleasantly satisfied to discover that the tasty cashew nut’s fruit of its labor is actually a freakin delicious fruit. My goal is to consume so many of them by the end of their season that if I even catch a whiff of their pungent smell, I’ll be physically repulsed. After all, I have no idea when I’ll be back in a place with a climate conducive to its growing conditions.

Well, I guess I’ll end this one now. I hope everyone is doing well and in good health and that ya’ll are enjoying the cool, spring season transitional weather and arboreal scene. I miss all you as much as I always do and am looking forward to hearing plans about seeing you before all this is over. (I’m serious though, if I don’t hear from some of you more often, I’m only bringing back a little malaria for ya and nothing else).

Love,
Courtney

updated smells

I forgot two:

Good- Brewing attaya (the green tea). I think it's just the combination of the tea leaves and sugar burning together. I always think I'm smelling roasted marshmellows.

Bad- Gele exaust. Emission standards? Yeah right. These cars are the European rejects. That's why I waited 2 hours on the side of the road for a squeaky wheel.