So, all this time, I've been pining away for a piece of Norman's fall foliage and autumn awesomeness when it turns out a bit of the Sooner State had been under my nose (well more like under my feet and actually up my nose, and distastefully in my mouth) all along! Turns out Native America is not the only place on this green earth that minerals red dirt. But more on this later...
Dry season is once again official upon us. The last time we saw the rains was about a month ago, at the end of Ramadan. Although I don't anticipate my little corner of this little country AKA, Western Region, especially Brikama, to bear the brunt of what has been termed by aid workers and the like as the "hungry season", I do believe we'll be observing changes in food bowls and probably even behaviors after the holiday of Tobaski, (where the bank is all but broke on sacrificing the holiest affordable 4 legged animal, from ram, sheep, male goat, female goat, camel or up to 7 people can go in on purchasing a steer or cow) which takes place on Dec 20th or 21st this year. From about the end of may through just about a month a go mangoes hung like monkeys from the trees and you couldn't walk around a corner without passing a kiddo with mango juice dripping from her mango stuffed mouth, filling the belly in between meals and secretly satisfying her daily requirements of vitamins A & C. It's exciting to witness the seasonal crops and anticipate what will come next, while holding back tears when your mango turned avocado market lady is now your corn lady only one ephemeral month later!! Excitingly and surprisingly convenient, watermelon season is still going strong which allowed some create, Halloween obsessed PCVs to fulfill their carving craving and goal 2 of Peace Corps in one go. Oranges are making their debut again as well as some fancy looking tomatoes and potatoes. Bananas heed a pretty steady supply year round, but you can really tell the hard times are about to be unveiled when Gambia’s staple crop, the groundnut, is ready for harvest. One of my first memories present of this 2 seasoned country is of the women sitting around punching the shells with their thumbs on their floor mats, so systematically, yet with a carelessness that illustrated a commencement of this daily dry season task probably just as they were weaned to feed themselves.
I can’t believe this Thursday is Thanksgiving. The 90 degree heat won’t allow my brain to lend to that fact. PC Gambia has a pretty good sense of the potential upheaval the loneliness of celebrating holidays in village and has conveniently scheduled a mandatory all volunteer meeting as well as the 40th anniversary of PC existing in Gambia with an optional Thanksgiving celebration. My health group upped the notch in this weekend excitement by declaring a regional “asobee” competition, where volunteers from the 5 regions pick out a fabric they feel represents their region, with which a tailor will make an outfit out of this, so everyone from that region will be dressed in the same fabric for the 40th anniversary meal. After a little contemplating and purusing of the market, we found this blue fabric with spoons and forks all over.
Since WR is by far the coolest (figuratively and literally) region in the country- represented with the blue background and definitely cooks the best food bowls- represented by the spoons and forks, we couldn't’t pass it up. Well, that and the fabric guy gave us a pretty good deal and there was a lot of the pattern to go around. So the slogan is something like this: “Staying cool and well fed in the WR”. Pictures and results to come.
But back to what I was stating before. Even though a lot of families in WR eat better than those in the provinces, hunger and malnutrition, especially among pregnant women and children under 5, is still present and I wouldn't be surprised if that saying “always 2 weeks away from a famine” could be applicable to this West African country during the dry season, as well. I don’t know; I’m just speculating, but it might be possible. I know of some volunteers who feel so guilty about buying food to supplement their diets that they hide the “grocery bags” in their backpacks before they head back to their families. Every sliver of food parcel present in a group is precisely split to distribute to anyone present. I definitely rethink even buying a ½ loaf of bread at the bitik and walking in to my host family’s evening TV watching hour if I don’t plan to tear off enough for those sitting around.
What I’m getting at is this: Thanksgiving is a wonderful day to look forward to. It represents many traditions, including the gathering of friends and family to partake in the horn of plenty. I hope this Thanksgiving is filled with lots of love, changing colored leaves, little ones acting like yard apes, big ones showing them up in the same department, and Mom’s broccoli rice casserole. But keep in mind that not everyone gets a piece of that plenty. Maybe even that guy you seem to pass almost weekly walking his dog down the street. Take care and prepare your dishes with love, but only as much as you and your guests can consume (with the appropriate left over days accounted for of course!). If you've made too much, look up your local shelter’s # in the phone book and drop off a doggie bag on the way to Aunt Carol’s place. If you’ve got a few hours to kill, then stay and lend a hand. You might just be thankful you did it.
Alright, alright, red dirt, green earth; Gambia, Oklahoma. No rain = lots of dust and I went running yesterday down my new favorite path, part of which consists of the exact color of red clay found in OK, which mad me a little teary-eyed. Wait, no, that was the gele-gele stirring it up as it puttered past, after which redness hovers in the air long enough for me to run through about 100 meters, getting it in my eyes, giving my skin the appearance of a salon-fresh self-tanning mist, and yep, you guessed it, I ate that gele’s dust. Oh well, guess it’s all just a little more food for thought…
Happy Thanksgiving!
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Monday, October 29, 2007
Did it rain sand last night? You could have fooled me Mr. November.
Have I told you about Awa Touray? Meet my favorite Wolof woman in Brikama. She sells me sweet groundnut treats and homemade coconut balls. She disappeared for a few months about 4 months ago, but now she's back. I greet her in Wolof, then order in Mandinka. We have that same system as my other tiyo-futo woman where, when I bring my own bag, she loads me up on extra goodies. Her stand is far away from the market, almost to the junction that splits the South Bank road with the market road (also known as "Jalibah Junction" for the Mandinka Kora player who lives around there). It's a win-win-win(win) situation all around, because no matter what kind of day I'm having, it always gets a little better if I pass her stand. It also give me an excuse to take a different path home, and sometimes life just calls for taking that different path. I get my sweet fix for the day, she gets her business and saves on a bag, and most of my site mates are now satisfied-Awa Touray-customers as well. My last stop, after saying goodbyes to host family and neighbors before catching my plane to Greece was Mrs. Touray's Savory and Sweet stand. I think I bought about D30 (each piece is D1) worth to take for people in Greece to try the stuff. I told her I was taking them for my friends in Europe and she insisted on stuffing a few more in the bag. Lucky for Erica, my layover wasn't any longer, but still she was the only other person to enjoy them since pretty much only the crumbs were left upon arriving and settling into camping on the river. Entrepreneur, innovator, mother and friend; Awa Touray is one inspirational Gambian woman you'll want to befriend in an instant and will have no problem remembering for a life time.
Well dang! It's amazing what a difference a little funding does for the development for a small little support group. Glad I paid attention in that grant writing class! So what we've got here is funding from UNAIDS to carry out designated programs for a 5 month period which started September 07 and will go through January 08. As the "program officer" of Allatentu, it's looking like I've got my work cut out for me these days. It took a little adjusting at first from the more leisure life I was leading pre-Greece, but I realized I'm an American creature of productivity, so bring it on! What exactly am I doing these days? Well, being computer literate pretty much automatically brings a whole slew of responsibilities. It means, as the PO, I'm responsible for creating any computer generated documents such as meeting agendas, meeting minutes, executive members salary contracts, monthly reports to UNAIDS, the "5 month grant Action Plan", etc. I serve as the liaison between ASK and the country rep of UNAIDS, as well as Hands on Care, which helps govern the progress and the flow of the dough. I'm present at both executive and board meetings for ASK, as well as bi-weekly staff meetings with HOC to report the group's progress. I'm involved in cash $$$$ FLOW! requests but make sure to involve the groups designated accounts clerk and secretary to distribute responsibility.
Besides the consuming activity of working towards helping Allatentu run effectively as its own business-like entity, complete with a daily opened and staffed center where members should feel welcome and ideally tea and coffee should never run dry, ASK members continually intrigue me with their desire to involve themselves with innovative projects. When I first visited ASK about 7 months ago, they were being trained in soap making. But why stop there? In a two-part four day training, members will learn the exotic art of tie & dye, a unique Gambian trade for income generating. Last week they produced these vibrant colored bed sheets and curtains. This weekend they are learning "Batik" which is another form used more for clothes, in which the ties and dyes are more concentrated. At the next general monthly meeting, they will showcase and sell their work at the Center for people such as HOC staff, family and friends.
Remember that land designated for the cashew orchard? (They are germinating nicely, but have yet to be transplanted). Apparently fruit trees and bee keeping goes hand and hand, thus ASK is now a member of the National Bee Keepers Association- Gambia and in the preliminary stages of figuring out its training logistics involving our members as well as Busura (the name of the village where the land is) community members.
But as the locals say, it's not easy here in Gambia, so when our Jalibah concert Action Committee learned of his traveling, thus once again delaying our RIDICULOUSLY drawn out plan for a memorial/ fundraising concert, this time just days prior to sending out invitations, I was put back in my place. I remembered exactly where I was, in a primarily Muslim country where another popular phrase is "in Sh Allah- God's will" and it just seems as if that dang concert in not in that will! At any rate, since several deposits have been paid, it would be a shame for a concert not to take place, so the idea will not disseminate, just once again, be postponed...
The weeks continue to accumulate at haste. A few weekends ago, I found myself prepared to run a 10K in Banjul, organized by the African Union Commission for Human Rights, only to realize that such organization still operates on the more leisure time schedule. Not up for waking up at the crack of dawn for a race? Then the AU 10K is for you because after standing around for 2 hours, at 10am and only about 15 runners strong, there was little sign of it beginning any time soon. After all, the parade said to be heading off the race hadn't even begun!! That said, the sun wasn't getting any cooler and the runners with whom I came decided to have our own "I'm an impatient toubab with other things to do on this Sunday" 10K. I still don't even know what came of that race.
I can't remember if I mentioned this in a previous blog, so forgive me if this is old news, but it's pretty cute so worth writing about again anyway. One evening, before I left for Greece, I was sitting around chatting with the peeps in the compound. Keep in mind, chatting for me, still means a lot of observing, or conversing with the young school aged girls that frequent Camara Kunda. They were trying to tell me something that I didn't quite get until my host sister was able to repeat it enough that I finally realized they were telling me they wanted me to be their kafoo mother. Kafoo, just like in Allatentu Support Kafoo (ASK), is the Mandinka word for group. It's often referred to as a group within the same age range or common interest, such as a women's group involved in soap making or, my example, these young neighborhood girls. So anyway, after that little announcement on their behalf, I was on cloud nine for the rest of the day. I hadn't realized that my presence and minimal participation in the evening bouts of rope games had made that much of an impact on them. I told them they needed to come up with a group name, so the next day they informed me that I was now the mother of "Ten Sisters". Fast forward to getting back from Greece and trying to settle back in to Allatentu's routine. They'd asked a few times what days I didn't have to go to work because they wanted come over and chat. We agreed on last Sunday at 4pm just inside the compound. They said they'd bring the lai (the condensed milk and sugar version of brewing attaya-the green tea that the guys brew) and we'd sing and dance. I'd had in my mind for several weeks that they'd be the perfect group to show how to make this mosquito cream repellent out of local ingredients, so I mentioned that we'd do that too. It was surprisingly successful, from the gathering of Neem tree leaves, to the grating of the soap, to the dividing up the cream and explaining how and when to use it. As the sun went down and the girls went home to pray, it was understood that this would become a fairly routine event.
Other ways I seem to be spending my all-of-a-sudden-coveted free time:
*Grasping on to the familiar past time of karaoke. One of the few things I will thank the tourist industry for.
*Cleaning my house. It tends to be a lengthy process, but the end product makes the sun shine brighter.
*Doing laundry. I dread it at the beginning of the process, start enjoying the mindless work mid way through and am completely elated to be hanging them up on the line by the time I'm finished.
*Catching up on my world news via month old "Newsweeks".
*Perusing the market for stylish accessories such as bangles, earrings, hip hair bands and Christmas presents.
*Thinking about weeding the flowerbed that is overgrown with fruitless tomato plants.
*Getting in that evening exercise.
*Hosting dinner parties. As much work as they are, the company's great and it just plain sucks cooking for one.
*Reading. What happened to my summer book club book supply?
*Day dreaming about what it will be like to visit with you guys in a few months!
Can't wait to hear about your Halloween stories (mine was non-existent :(, rock gym grand openings, birthday parties and other good times.
Check out the Flickr site when you get a chance, too...
Well dang! It's amazing what a difference a little funding does for the development for a small little support group. Glad I paid attention in that grant writing class! So what we've got here is funding from UNAIDS to carry out designated programs for a 5 month period which started September 07 and will go through January 08. As the "program officer" of Allatentu, it's looking like I've got my work cut out for me these days. It took a little adjusting at first from the more leisure life I was leading pre-Greece, but I realized I'm an American creature of productivity, so bring it on! What exactly am I doing these days? Well, being computer literate pretty much automatically brings a whole slew of responsibilities. It means, as the PO, I'm responsible for creating any computer generated documents such as meeting agendas, meeting minutes, executive members salary contracts, monthly reports to UNAIDS, the "5 month grant Action Plan", etc. I serve as the liaison between ASK and the country rep of UNAIDS, as well as Hands on Care, which helps govern the progress and the flow of the dough. I'm present at both executive and board meetings for ASK, as well as bi-weekly staff meetings with HOC to report the group's progress. I'm involved in cash $$$$ FLOW! requests but make sure to involve the groups designated accounts clerk and secretary to distribute responsibility.
Besides the consuming activity of working towards helping Allatentu run effectively as its own business-like entity, complete with a daily opened and staffed center where members should feel welcome and ideally tea and coffee should never run dry, ASK members continually intrigue me with their desire to involve themselves with innovative projects. When I first visited ASK about 7 months ago, they were being trained in soap making. But why stop there? In a two-part four day training, members will learn the exotic art of tie & dye, a unique Gambian trade for income generating. Last week they produced these vibrant colored bed sheets and curtains. This weekend they are learning "Batik" which is another form used more for clothes, in which the ties and dyes are more concentrated. At the next general monthly meeting, they will showcase and sell their work at the Center for people such as HOC staff, family and friends.
Remember that land designated for the cashew orchard? (They are germinating nicely, but have yet to be transplanted). Apparently fruit trees and bee keeping goes hand and hand, thus ASK is now a member of the National Bee Keepers Association- Gambia and in the preliminary stages of figuring out its training logistics involving our members as well as Busura (the name of the village where the land is) community members.
But as the locals say, it's not easy here in Gambia, so when our Jalibah concert Action Committee learned of his traveling, thus once again delaying our RIDICULOUSLY drawn out plan for a memorial/ fundraising concert, this time just days prior to sending out invitations, I was put back in my place. I remembered exactly where I was, in a primarily Muslim country where another popular phrase is "in Sh Allah- God's will" and it just seems as if that dang concert in not in that will! At any rate, since several deposits have been paid, it would be a shame for a concert not to take place, so the idea will not disseminate, just once again, be postponed...
The weeks continue to accumulate at haste. A few weekends ago, I found myself prepared to run a 10K in Banjul, organized by the African Union Commission for Human Rights, only to realize that such organization still operates on the more leisure time schedule. Not up for waking up at the crack of dawn for a race? Then the AU 10K is for you because after standing around for 2 hours, at 10am and only about 15 runners strong, there was little sign of it beginning any time soon. After all, the parade said to be heading off the race hadn't even begun!! That said, the sun wasn't getting any cooler and the runners with whom I came decided to have our own "I'm an impatient toubab with other things to do on this Sunday" 10K. I still don't even know what came of that race.
I can't remember if I mentioned this in a previous blog, so forgive me if this is old news, but it's pretty cute so worth writing about again anyway. One evening, before I left for Greece, I was sitting around chatting with the peeps in the compound. Keep in mind, chatting for me, still means a lot of observing, or conversing with the young school aged girls that frequent Camara Kunda. They were trying to tell me something that I didn't quite get until my host sister was able to repeat it enough that I finally realized they were telling me they wanted me to be their kafoo mother. Kafoo, just like in Allatentu Support Kafoo (ASK), is the Mandinka word for group. It's often referred to as a group within the same age range or common interest, such as a women's group involved in soap making or, my example, these young neighborhood girls. So anyway, after that little announcement on their behalf, I was on cloud nine for the rest of the day. I hadn't realized that my presence and minimal participation in the evening bouts of rope games had made that much of an impact on them. I told them they needed to come up with a group name, so the next day they informed me that I was now the mother of "Ten Sisters". Fast forward to getting back from Greece and trying to settle back in to Allatentu's routine. They'd asked a few times what days I didn't have to go to work because they wanted come over and chat. We agreed on last Sunday at 4pm just inside the compound. They said they'd bring the lai (the condensed milk and sugar version of brewing attaya-the green tea that the guys brew) and we'd sing and dance. I'd had in my mind for several weeks that they'd be the perfect group to show how to make this mosquito cream repellent out of local ingredients, so I mentioned that we'd do that too. It was surprisingly successful, from the gathering of Neem tree leaves, to the grating of the soap, to the dividing up the cream and explaining how and when to use it. As the sun went down and the girls went home to pray, it was understood that this would become a fairly routine event.
Other ways I seem to be spending my all-of-a-sudden-coveted free time:
*Grasping on to the familiar past time of karaoke. One of the few things I will thank the tourist industry for.
*Cleaning my house. It tends to be a lengthy process, but the end product makes the sun shine brighter.
*Doing laundry. I dread it at the beginning of the process, start enjoying the mindless work mid way through and am completely elated to be hanging them up on the line by the time I'm finished.
*Catching up on my world news via month old "Newsweeks".
*Perusing the market for stylish accessories such as bangles, earrings, hip hair bands and Christmas presents.
*Thinking about weeding the flowerbed that is overgrown with fruitless tomato plants.
*Getting in that evening exercise.
*Hosting dinner parties. As much work as they are, the company's great and it just plain sucks cooking for one.
*Reading. What happened to my summer book club book supply?
*Day dreaming about what it will be like to visit with you guys in a few months!
Can't wait to hear about your Halloween stories (mine was non-existent :(, rock gym grand openings, birthday parties and other good times.
Check out the Flickr site when you get a chance, too...
Monday, October 8, 2007
Hey, hey, hey, back in The Republic of The Gambia. Did you guys miss me? Have you ever been to Greece or Crete, specifically? Add it to the list you've made of things to do or places to visit before you leave this world. Scratch that, put it the top of the list. Maybe it had something to do with the immediate anonymity as soon as I stepped off the plane, but probably it was the amazing food and the most beautiful landscape I've ever laid eyes on that makes Greece one of my favorite places on this earth. It was very refreshing for my emotional well being to spend time with a friend from back home and practicing Ashtanga some, too during my stay sure didn't hurt. Erica and I spend a few days in Athens doing the whole Acropolis thing, which was more magnificent than I'd imagined. Then we took a 9 hour overnight ferry ride to Crete and after several bus rides, made it to the town of Plakias, a small touristy town along the coast where we stayed at a rad youth hostel before heading down to camp along the river about 12K away from Plakias. it was a relaxing few weeks of practicing Ashtanga, talking and cooking with locals, river hikes, a visit to the bluest oceans waters I'v
e ever seen and even a little music playing. I was also even able to continue my role as PCV by sharing the Moringa seed with residents along the river. I gave the appropriate literature about the highly nutritional plant and planted a few on my own but gave the rest to plant at their leisure. The tiny gift evoked such a beg response and as if I didn't already have reasons to return, the prospect of seeing the progress of the Moringa growth would be the feta cheese on the toast! it was one of those trips where I didn't feel like I needed a vacation from my vacation upon returning to Gambia. 
But of course it couldn't be ALL paradise. It sort of came crashing down about the time where, on the metro back to the airport, the ticket lady checked my ticket that kept being accepted by the electronic meter and told me I was being fined 80 Euro for using the same ticket ore than once. I must had been holding all my nervous energy about coming back to Gambia (my foreign country of a home), and not back to friends and family, which I've never done before, plus my excited feelings about the spectacular time I'd had in Greece because as soon as the told about the fine, I began crying pretty much uncontrollably. After she escorted me to the ATM machine and hovered over me as I drained the money in my account, she and her colleague finished their conversation that politely ended apparently in a funny joke and abandoned me to orient myself with my new terminal surroundings. So I sobbed some more on a mesh bench, eventually recognizing the surrounding as the same train terminal where Erica and I began our journey just 3 weeks prior. Finally I composed myself enough to get in the check-in line only to get to the front to be told I had to purchase my new ticket and pay the difference at that other counter, then get back in line that now consisted of everyone on SN Brussels flight 3250 to Brussels. That's okay, I still had like 5 hours to kill at the airport. The flight arrived in Brussels just in time for me to may my 12 hour layover that became 15 when I woke up from my refreshing night's sleep on concourse A's floor and checked in for my flight. But it began to look up a little from there. Since there are only 2 flights a week coming into Gambia from Brussels, there was a good chance I'd know someone on the flight. Walking back and forth down the terminal corridor looking for a place to answer my page I had heard over the intercom, I ran into a fellow health group volunteer returning from a vacation to the States. And at that, one of my favorite to run into and sit next to (coincidentally for the 2nd time flying from Brussels to Banjul) on the flight. I think we helped prepare each other for one transition that we knew was about to take place up on returning to our developing world we call home from the only type of home we've ever known.
That said, we also returning to 15 other bright and shiny familiar health group faces for our required 6 month In-Service Training. This past week as flown by with a series of daily sessions that evaluate how we thing work is going, how it should be going, new ideas of where it could be going and going going going until we couldn't go anymore! I'm going back to Brikama tomorrow, where I think there will be plenty to pick back up with. So much so, that I feel like if I blink, Christmas time will be here and I'll be on another flight to Dallas! That's right pretty people, we will once again meet face to face over a 3 week period from Dec 21st through Jan 11th. Can't wait. I'm already feeling the vibes of love, thanks.
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
toubabgimmetoothbrush
So it's official- One of my favorite places here in Gambia is the town of Kartong. I visited the coastal town for the first time when I first moved to Brikama with one of my site mates. It takes me about an hour and a half on bike and we spend the morning on a "bumster"-free beach. This past weekend I biked my way there again with plans to camp on the beach with the agro-forestry PCV placed in Kartong. She tells me to call her when I get to a particular resort sign because she'll be at a friend's near there. Turns out her friend's place is this awesome little vacation home tucked neatly away in the bush just on the outskirts of the Kartong village. Somebody liked me that day because shortly after settling into conversation on the veranda, we found ourselves in the company of one of the mesmerizing down pours that frequent the rainy season. The rain let up just enough for us to go into the village to spend some time greeting her family, buy some dinner and identify the looming clouds that confirmed we would not be camping that evening. We decided we'd rather stay dry and get a good night's sleep rather than get swept out to the ocean in a flash flood. I never really understood the concept of a vacation home, but after only one night of what felt like an entirely different environment that left me feeling calm and refreshed, I would argue that it's almost necessary to have a sanctuary such as a vacation home to escape to for the sake of your own personal well being.
On my way home the next day, I stopped by another site mates's compound to give what turned out to be another successful "mouth washing" demo. Only problem was my little song drew a crowd from outside the compound that resulted in too much demand with too little supply. but in other brush business, I was washing dishes early the other morning and was joined my my sister and her new tooth brush at the tap. The more I think about it, the more I feel like the toothbrush (with its demonstration in the local language) is probably single handedly the best gift for people in developing countries. I mean, I struggle with the idea of giving things away, especially here where the line children shout "toubabgimmemintee" sounds more like a really long word rather than a sentence. But when I think about the brush, it fills the role of a health objective, is actually somewhat sustainable due to the learned skill that can be passed on as well the multiple uses out of the tool, and has the hipness factor of a tangible object the kids like to be seen in public with. Guess I can't really get mad when I hear the "Mariamagimmetoothbrush" line these days.
Among some of the things missed back home like company of good friends and family, access to fruity candy, the movie theater experience and pets is practicing my hobbies. A few of them like climbing, taking dance classes and searching fro new music will simply have to be put on hold for a while. However, I'm discovering that I'm still able to fulfill several of the hobbies I practiced in the States such as running, yoga, reading, photography and even cooking and occasionally painting. As of last week, I discovered that I may have the option of adding one more to the mix. One of my site mates accompanied me in following the signs on the road by his house of "Saine Pottery" to see where it lead. Turns out Mr. Saine is a potter by trade who has a whole set up, including a foot wheel and 2 kilns in his compound and has been throwing for about 30 years, training in Europe and traveling Africa. His main market these days is the hotel strip flooded with European tourists where his wife displays his products. What made the experience seem like it was even more meant to be was the fact that the compound dog just had a litter of 8 pups (I think I've found my 4-legged foster family), Mr. Saine actually knew his birthday was that day and we left with our very own pots and business cards in our hands. Needless to say, this other "hobby" I may able to fulfill happens be able to take the form of a community development project. After I return from the vacation that happens to take the form of Greece...
I'll report back in about a month. Peace out yokles!
Check out the new photos on Flickr.
On my way home the next day, I stopped by another site mates's compound to give what turned out to be another successful "mouth washing" demo. Only problem was my little song drew a crowd from outside the compound that resulted in too much demand with too little supply. but in other brush business, I was washing dishes early the other morning and was joined my my sister and her new tooth brush at the tap. The more I think about it, the more I feel like the toothbrush (with its demonstration in the local language) is probably single handedly the best gift for people in developing countries. I mean, I struggle with the idea of giving things away, especially here where the line children shout "toubabgimmemintee" sounds more like a really long word rather than a sentence. But when I think about the brush, it fills the role of a health objective, is actually somewhat sustainable due to the learned skill that can be passed on as well the multiple uses out of the tool, and has the hipness factor of a tangible object the kids like to be seen in public with. Guess I can't really get mad when I hear the "Mariamagimmetoothbrush" line these days.
Among some of the things missed back home like company of good friends and family, access to fruity candy, the movie theater experience and pets is practicing my hobbies. A few of them like climbing, taking dance classes and searching fro new music will simply have to be put on hold for a while. However, I'm discovering that I'm still able to fulfill several of the hobbies I practiced in the States such as running, yoga, reading, photography and even cooking and occasionally painting. As of last week, I discovered that I may have the option of adding one more to the mix. One of my site mates accompanied me in following the signs on the road by his house of "Saine Pottery" to see where it lead. Turns out Mr. Saine is a potter by trade who has a whole set up, including a foot wheel and 2 kilns in his compound and has been throwing for about 30 years, training in Europe and traveling Africa. His main market these days is the hotel strip flooded with European tourists where his wife displays his products. What made the experience seem like it was even more meant to be was the fact that the compound dog just had a litter of 8 pups (I think I've found my 4-legged foster family), Mr. Saine actually knew his birthday was that day and we left with our very own pots and business cards in our hands. Needless to say, this other "hobby" I may able to fulfill happens be able to take the form of a community development project. After I return from the vacation that happens to take the form of Greece...
I'll report back in about a month. Peace out yokles!
Check out the new photos on Flickr.
Thursday, August 23, 2007
Birthdays and Brushes
Can you tell I'm a big fan of alliteration?
Well, the big ol' b-day came and went. Still not exactly sure about the whole "quarter of a century" thing, but the celebration around it was at least entertaining. As I had envisioned in my head, I baked myself a spice cake with cream cheese frosting (don't worry, I wanted to bake it myself- I miss baking). Also on the menu for the party was a homemade snack mix full of oaty cereal stuff and caramelized pretzels (thanks Erica!), oatmeal cookies, pasta with veggies and homemade sangria with fruit (well, made with box red wine, box fruit juice, and ginger ale "lime drink"). It was a good spread. Kind of difficult to transport back on a gele-gele, but with my really awesome and helpful friend's help, we made it happen. They even decorated my house and it really felt like an American b-day party. A lot of my site mates came to help celebrate, as well as some up country friends from my health group. My host family came over for a few minutes to taste the goods. I've noticed a lot of the time when we share "American" food with our host families, they Gambianize it by adding mayonnaise, Jimbo aka MSG, or put the contents on bread, but this time they gobbled up the snacks. Guess it's hard to flavor up oatmeal cookies. Thanks again for all the birthday cards and care packages. It really meant a lot to be able to open them on the day.
Speaking of care packages, my aunt from Dallas really followed through with the toothbrush and toothpaste request from last time. I opened her package to find, amongst the Mike and Ikes and Burts Bees (of which I can officially say I have enough of now to last the next two years), about 200 individually wrapped and pre-dipped in toothpaste, toothbrushes. After running into one of my site mates and discussing with her my new toothbrush distribution dilemma, we decided a demo was in store. So that night, during the regular gathering of neighborhood kids at my host family's TV, I brought one of the toothbrushes, asked what it was called in Mandinka and told the crowd my aunt sent me a lot and that I wanted to show them how to brush their teeth. Some of the guys said they already knew how, but I shot back with the "but if you come, I will give you one" line and the next morning kids I hadn't even seen were telling me they were coming to my class. To prepare for the demo, I wrote a little song to the tune of "This is the way you..." and took it to work to get help translating a few words I didn't know. By 5:30, there was a swarm of kids outside my compound where, fairly quickly tooth brushing became the coolest thing on the street. I did my little demo, then handed the swarm their own toothbrushes and told them that I was going to sing my little song while they brushed their own teeth. It went a little something like this:
I ka da josi, tenne tenne
I da ku, I da ku
I ka da josi, tenne tenne
Ni kunun ta
I made sure to emphasize the importance of returning the toothbrush to the package it came in, because I could just see 100 plastic bags blowing about around the compounds. Since no trash system is installed, littering becomes first habit. It was all over in about 30 minutes, but the next day I asked a girl how many times she'd brushed her teeth and even though I'd said it should be done at least twice a day, she answered 4! Marilina, you would be so proud! I have enough left to do another demo and plan on breaking out in the song every now and then to keep the spirit of teeth brushing alive.
The next evening, I went to go hang out with the kids again and found only my mother, Tida lying on the couch, fanning herself from mosquitoes. I asked where everyone was and she said they were at the wedding that was happening a few compounds away. I was all ready for a quiet evening of writing letters, but decided to throw on a skirt and wander to the "knot tying". I immediately recognized a bunch of my neighbors, who were all dressed in the same fabric for the event (this is called an asobe) and was taken in and welcomed. It had been going on for a while already, but the bride was still washing and getting ready so there was a bunch of sitting around to be had. Then all of a sudden, a taxi pulled up outside the compound wall and a huge crowd migrated from the house to the taxi and I later realized that the bride was in the middle of the crowd. Then the taxi started off and people started shouting "manno bito! manno bito!" which translates to the knot tying and began following the taxi, where the destination turned out to be her husband's compound. It was already pretty late, and I didn't know where we were heading, but my neighbor, Awa, was with me, so I decided to see what all the fuss was about. When we got there, the girls started shouting "Mariama came!!!" and pulled me into the dance circle where I busted out a few moves and took this picture of my friend, Kaddy and her son, Alhagie-Modou. Still not sure who or where the bride was (the grooms rarely come to these events), I asked and they pointed out this figure completely covered with a white cloth laying on a mat, surrounded by sitting family members. Next to her was a calabash, gourd bowl where dancing attendants can throw money. I tossed some money in, took note of the covered bride, said my goodbyes and was accompanied back home by Awa.
Work with the support group is fairly slow at the moment. We rescheduled a board meeting, only to have no one but myself show up for the rescheduled one. A few of us are still working on getting the cashew orchard started and plan to re-plant the polypots of germinated cashews next week sometime. I also had this idea of promoting the "Teryiaa" CD on one of my favorite radio stations to listen to online, KEXP. One DJ has a show called Best Ambiance on Monday evenings where he play music from Africa. I finally got the literature together they suggested one sends when trying to get airplay, and sent him the info through email and a CD through the mail. He responded the next day by saying he was really looking forward to receiving the package and that he'd visited Gambia twice and studied with a kora player here. I can only hope that this will lead to good things! (like you guys tuning into Best Ambiance on Monday evenings from 6-9 and hearing a song from Allatentu Support Band and saying "Hey! that's the group my really awesome (insert relationship to me), Courtney, works with! Wow, that music is kick'n. I must buy that CD!") By the way, a link to KEXP is on the link list to the left of the page as "Good Music".
I'm taking my first vacation in a few weeks. I'm headed to Greece with a good friend from the States and we are going to spend a few weeks in Crete, practicing Ashtanga with a great man my Norman yoga teacher studied with. Yeah, I'm pretty stoked. Over the next two weeks, I'll be working on getting stuff together to bring, as well as helping out on clinic days, singing about brushing teeth, transplanting cashew trees, helping my new education volunteer site mates feel welcome (congrats to swearing in guys!) as well as giving tips to new urban volunteers (Yes it's normal to want to punch that boy who just cursed you out in the face. No you don't have to greet everyone you pass like they ingrained into our heads in training- you'd never make it to work!)
I still miss you guys a tons and look forward to mail day and keeping in contact with all as much as when I first left, so keep em coming!
Well, the big ol' b-day came and went. Still not exactly sure about the whole "quarter of a century" thing, but the celebration around it was at least entertaining. As I had envisioned in my head, I baked myself a spice cake with cream cheese frosting (don't worry, I wanted to bake it myself- I miss baking). Also on the menu for the party was a homemade snack mix full of oaty cereal stuff and caramelized pretzels (thanks Erica!), oatmeal cookies, pasta with veggies and homemade sangria with fruit (well, made with box red wine, box fruit juice, and ginger ale "lime drink"). It was a good spread. Kind of difficult to transport back on a gele-gele, but with my really awesome and helpful friend's help, we made it happen. They even decorated my house and it really felt like an American b-day party. A lot of my site mates came to help celebrate, as well as some up country friends from my health group. My host family came over for a few minutes to taste the goods. I've noticed a lot of the time when we share "American" food with our host families, they Gambianize it by adding mayonnaise, Jimbo aka MSG, or put the contents on bread, but this time they gobbled up the snacks. Guess it's hard to flavor up oatmeal cookies. Thanks again for all the birthday cards and care packages. It really meant a lot to be able to open them on the day.Speaking of care packages, my aunt from Dallas really followed through with the toothbrush and toothpaste request from last time. I opened her package to find, amongst the Mike and Ikes and Burts Bees (of which I can officially say I have enough of now to last the next two years), about 200 individually wrapped and pre-dipped in toothpaste, toothbrushes. After running into one of my site mates and discussing with her my new toothbrush distribution dilemma, we decided a demo was in store. So that night, during the regular gathering of neighborhood kids at my host family's TV, I brought one of the toothbrushes, asked what it was called in Mandinka and told the crowd my aunt sent me a lot and that I wanted to show them how to brush their teeth. Some of the guys said they already knew how, but I shot back with the "but if you come, I will give you one" line and the next morning kids I hadn't even seen were telling me they were coming to my class. To prepare for the demo, I wrote a little song to the tune of "This is the way you..." and took it to work to get help translating a few words I didn't know. By 5:30, there was a swarm of kids outside my compound where, fairly quickly tooth brushing became the coolest thing on the street. I did my little demo, then handed the swarm their own toothbrushes and told them that I was going to sing my little song while they brushed their own teeth. It went a little something like this:
I ka da josi, tenne tenne
I da ku, I da ku
I ka da josi, tenne tenne
Ni kunun ta
I made sure to emphasize the importance of returning the toothbrush to the package it came in, because I could just see 100 plastic bags blowing about around the compounds. Since no trash system is installed, littering becomes first habit. It was all over in about 30 minutes, but the next day I asked a girl how many times she'd brushed her teeth and even though I'd said it should be done at least twice a day, she answered 4! Marilina, you would be so proud! I have enough left to do another demo and plan on breaking out in the song every now and then to keep the spirit of teeth brushing alive.
The next evening, I went to go hang out with the kids again and found only my mother, Tida lying on the couch, fanning herself from mosquitoes. I asked where everyone was and she said they were at the wedding that was happening a few compounds away. I was all ready for a quiet evening of writing letters, but decided to throw on a skirt and wander to the "knot tying". I immediately recognized a bunch of my neighbors, who were all dressed in the same fabric for the event (this is called an asobe) and was taken in and welcomed. It had been going on for a while already, but the bride was still washing and getting ready so there was a bunch of sitting around to be had. Then all of a sudden, a taxi pulled up outside the compound wall and a huge crowd migrated from the house to the taxi and I later realized that the bride was in the middle of the crowd. Then the taxi started off and people started shouting "manno bito! manno bito!" which translates to the knot tying and began following the taxi, where the destination turned out to be her husband's compound. It was already pretty late, and I didn't know where we were heading, but my neighbor, Awa, was with me, so I decided to see what all the fuss was about. When we got there, the girls started shouting "Mariama came!!!" and pulled me into the dance circle where I busted out a few moves and took this picture of my friend, Kaddy and her son, Alhagie-Modou. Still not sure who or where the bride was (the grooms rarely come to these events), I asked and they pointed out this figure completely covered with a white cloth laying on a mat, surrounded by sitting family members. Next to her was a calabash, gourd bowl where dancing attendants can throw money. I tossed some money in, took note of the covered bride, said my goodbyes and was accompanied back home by Awa.
Work with the support group is fairly slow at the moment. We rescheduled a board meeting, only to have no one but myself show up for the rescheduled one. A few of us are still working on getting the cashew orchard started and plan to re-plant the polypots of germinated cashews next week sometime. I also had this idea of promoting the "Teryiaa" CD on one of my favorite radio stations to listen to online, KEXP. One DJ has a show called Best Ambiance on Monday evenings where he play music from Africa. I finally got the literature together they suggested one sends when trying to get airplay, and sent him the info through email and a CD through the mail. He responded the next day by saying he was really looking forward to receiving the package and that he'd visited Gambia twice and studied with a kora player here. I can only hope that this will lead to good things! (like you guys tuning into Best Ambiance on Monday evenings from 6-9 and hearing a song from Allatentu Support Band and saying "Hey! that's the group my really awesome (insert relationship to me), Courtney, works with! Wow, that music is kick'n. I must buy that CD!") By the way, a link to KEXP is on the link list to the left of the page as "Good Music".
I'm taking my first vacation in a few weeks. I'm headed to Greece with a good friend from the States and we are going to spend a few weeks in Crete, practicing Ashtanga with a great man my Norman yoga teacher studied with. Yeah, I'm pretty stoked. Over the next two weeks, I'll be working on getting stuff together to bring, as well as helping out on clinic days, singing about brushing teeth, transplanting cashew trees, helping my new education volunteer site mates feel welcome (congrats to swearing in guys!) as well as giving tips to new urban volunteers (Yes it's normal to want to punch that boy who just cursed you out in the face. No you don't have to greet everyone you pass like they ingrained into our heads in training- you'd never make it to work!)
I still miss you guys a tons and look forward to mail day and keeping in contact with all as much as when I first left, so keep em coming!
Monday, August 13, 2007
E Ning Barra
So there's sort of a running joke in PC Gambia that it's difficult to live as an urban volunteer based on the current PC living allowance. Supposedly we get supplemented accordingly and I definitely get help with my rend from the office, but I also definitely spend most, if not all of my monthly stipend of the equivalent of about $170. Those of you who knew me fairly well in the States may remember that I was pretty thrifty or at least prioritized my spending. I am also a big fan of "saving for the future/rainy day," but when the rainy season lasts half the year, I get a little jealous of those volunteers who boast saving 1/2 their salaries for spending money on vacations, while I'm setting aside money for my electricity and water bills. Don't get me wrong, I definitely purchase my fair share of cookies on a regular basis and access to a fresh market to supplement my diet with nutrients most can't obtain in their villages certainly outweigh the 30 Euros I might save for that vacation to Europe. And in the end, even though we are doing volunteer work, PCVs still earn more per month than most professions in Gambia such as teachers, farmers, gele drivers and even business professionals, allowing us to partake in our vices. While some enjoy over indulging in fabric purchase or helping keep the Jewlbrew Brewery in business, I prefer to support my local market by buying things that use "current", things that people donated to that developing country clothes drive (I swear half the stuff I've seen would probably sell for what it costs to feed a family for a month at one of those vintage boutiques back in the States. Tracksuits anyone? *Oh! The irony!*) and of course cookies and fake Nutella.
But I digress... Anyway, last week, one of my up country friends came up with the idea that maybe urban PCVs should think about taking a side job, such as a Gele Aparantae (the young boys who aggressively pursue you in the car parks, assuring that there is always one seat left just for you and that the car is leaving now NOW!, only to find it half empty and leaving now later), to supplement our income a little (but I know we really aren't allowed to take on extra income). The slightly unnerving part of it is that I actually pictured myself shouting out one of the destinations while hanging half way out of a gele for a good 30 seconds. Then I started thinking of other odd jobs that one might wish to pursue for a little extra pocket $. So here is a short list/description of work we probably see on a daily basis, but fail to recognize and appreciate for its contribution to the Gambian economy.
Sooooooooooooo, E Ning Barra, Baake! Thanks for the work guys!
1. Gele Aparantae- Most could probably receive a legitimate ADD diagnosis, and as much as they strike my last nerve on some days, these young men most certainly cannot be labeled lazy or falling down on the job. Thanks for insuring I get dropped at the next junction!
2. Personal Assistant aka Small Boy- These guys have been known to preform errands across the gamete, from an Attaya (green tea) run to the bitik to calming their younger sibling by slinging them on the hip, these kids would go to the ends of the earth of told to. Thanks for the water!
3. Attaya Brewer- I probably would get fired for not putting enough sugar in. Thanks for keeping the young guys who are out of work content and contained for the afternoon!
4. Bean Sandwich Lady- They sit at their stands people watching and talking to their fellow stand mates until their product is finished. they must have an incredible amount of patience to remain there throughout the day. Some bring their knitting, but I think there could be a PC literacy project for the education volunteers hidden within the Bean Sandwich Lady population. Thanks for helping me obtain an adequate amount of protein in my diet at an affordable price!
5. Hair Plater- These girls have got hair braiding down to a science, not to mention an art. Even though I've unofficially taken on the role as hair cutter among our health group, the pig tail style-inverted french braid is about as fancy as I get. Thanks for making every one's hair look beautiful for every occasion, especially weddings and naming ceremonies!
6. Construction Man- From creating blocks out of mud from the solid ground to build houses, to constructing wells, thanks for putting a roof over our heads and water at our disposal!
7. Farmers and Herdsman- Their working hours coordinate with the sun, which makes for extremely long and exhausting days during rainy season. their harvest nourish our bodies and give us energy to carry on our daily tasks. Thanks for putting in so much effort to keeping life's cycle moving!
8. Prayer Caller- I'm pretty sure you have to be male and a Muslim, but the more I think about it, the more it seems it could be the prefect supplemental job. Who wouldn't like to sing out in Arabic over an intercom system 5 times a day, having the rest of the day to pursue other engagements? Only down side I can think of is that when I looked at the clock this morning when I hear the first prayer call, it read 4:45am. do you get to go back to bed after you've praised Allah? Thanks for helping all the practicing Muslims stay on schedule with their prayer times (and those not-practicing Muslims without watches stay on time for their 2 or 5pm meetings).
But I digress... Anyway, last week, one of my up country friends came up with the idea that maybe urban PCVs should think about taking a side job, such as a Gele Aparantae (the young boys who aggressively pursue you in the car parks, assuring that there is always one seat left just for you and that the car is leaving now NOW!, only to find it half empty and leaving now later), to supplement our income a little (but I know we really aren't allowed to take on extra income). The slightly unnerving part of it is that I actually pictured myself shouting out one of the destinations while hanging half way out of a gele for a good 30 seconds. Then I started thinking of other odd jobs that one might wish to pursue for a little extra pocket $. So here is a short list/description of work we probably see on a daily basis, but fail to recognize and appreciate for its contribution to the Gambian economy.
Sooooooooooooo, E Ning Barra, Baake! Thanks for the work guys!
1. Gele Aparantae- Most could probably receive a legitimate ADD diagnosis, and as much as they strike my last nerve on some days, these young men most certainly cannot be labeled lazy or falling down on the job. Thanks for insuring I get dropped at the next junction!
2. Personal Assistant aka Small Boy- These guys have been known to preform errands across the gamete, from an Attaya (green tea) run to the bitik to calming their younger sibling by slinging them on the hip, these kids would go to the ends of the earth of told to. Thanks for the water!
3. Attaya Brewer- I probably would get fired for not putting enough sugar in. Thanks for keeping the young guys who are out of work content and contained for the afternoon!
4. Bean Sandwich Lady- They sit at their stands people watching and talking to their fellow stand mates until their product is finished. they must have an incredible amount of patience to remain there throughout the day. Some bring their knitting, but I think there could be a PC literacy project for the education volunteers hidden within the Bean Sandwich Lady population. Thanks for helping me obtain an adequate amount of protein in my diet at an affordable price!
5. Hair Plater- These girls have got hair braiding down to a science, not to mention an art. Even though I've unofficially taken on the role as hair cutter among our health group, the pig tail style-inverted french braid is about as fancy as I get. Thanks for making every one's hair look beautiful for every occasion, especially weddings and naming ceremonies!
6. Construction Man- From creating blocks out of mud from the solid ground to build houses, to constructing wells, thanks for putting a roof over our heads and water at our disposal!
7. Farmers and Herdsman- Their working hours coordinate with the sun, which makes for extremely long and exhausting days during rainy season. their harvest nourish our bodies and give us energy to carry on our daily tasks. Thanks for putting in so much effort to keeping life's cycle moving!
8. Prayer Caller- I'm pretty sure you have to be male and a Muslim, but the more I think about it, the more it seems it could be the prefect supplemental job. Who wouldn't like to sing out in Arabic over an intercom system 5 times a day, having the rest of the day to pursue other engagements? Only down side I can think of is that when I looked at the clock this morning when I hear the first prayer call, it read 4:45am. do you get to go back to bed after you've praised Allah? Thanks for helping all the practicing Muslims stay on schedule with their prayer times (and those not-practicing Muslims without watches stay on time for their 2 or 5pm meetings).
Tuesday, August 7, 2007
Sparkles, Saints and Soda
This key chain was given to me by a family friend before I left for Gambia. It is one of my favorite things I brought and was decided by other friends on the Basse trip that the ideals that the key chain may represent to people of Mexican heritage are pretty much encompassed in this tiny trinket; thus the title of Sparkles, Saints and Soda.
First off, per request of a friend, here are the coordinates to my house and work in Brikama, Gambia on Google Earth:
13 16'54.09N
16 38'53.19W Home
13 16'25.85N
16 38'54.31W Work
I put in the link to upload the program on the left side of the blog.
*****************************************************************
Question: (That one's for all you Office fans out there)
Why has it taken me a little longer this time to want to create my next post?
Answer: I have a few theories that most likely reflect my current point in service. Theory A: Things no longer appear "news worthy", thus reflecting on my excellent integration to my Gambia PC experience. Theory 2: I am in a "trough" period in the service according to a PC paper entitled to something of the effect of "Peaks and Valleys: a PCVs Guide to the Emotional Time Line of Service", where it is normal to spend the entire day in my house reading, where possibly the only thing I may accomplish is making my bed, only to get right back in it to spend the rest of the day with my book. Theory Z: There are too many exciting things going on in my life and it's too hard to keep up with them and transfer them to a hard copy such as a blog. Hopefully it's a small combination of all three, but I'd love to get input from you guys back home.
Now on with all the exciting things that are going on in my life... The Basse trip last week was an adventure for sure. It was really nice to get to see the countryside during the rainy season from the comfort of a crowded gele. Thanks to the pot-holed-excuse for the south-bank road and zero bridges, the most popular route to get to the largest town at he end of the country is to take the north bank road, along with a series of crowded ferry crossings. I traveled with my urban town buddy, Allison and our first stop was to visit and stay the night with a friend in our group who lives in a small Fula village, several K from the main road. It was neat to see where and how she was spending her time in service, but I have to admit, it was a little overwhelming not to be able to speak to the people in her village and after the morning of traveling, cordially "greeting" most of the compounds in the village (she knows most of their names- it's that small) was pretty tiring, not to mention it took us about 45 minutes to walk to the pump to fetch water maybe 300m away. The next morning, at which we were 5 in number, we took a horse cart to the main road to catch a gele, a series of ferries and small taxi rides, eventually arriving at our destination of the PC Basse transit house. The town of Basses reminded me of a small-one horse town in middle America; one street lined with a few restaurants, corner shops, a bank , and a barbershop, but accompanied by the iconic bean sandwich ladies, a small fresh market and fabric shops, all of which are pretty standard in urban Gambian towns. Most of my health group gathered in Basse that weekend, recreating a mini reunion. We ate soft served ice cream and visited Chris's (one of my Kaif village training mates) banana plantation in his village near Basse. After an unsuccessful attempt at contacting Kaddy, I've decided that the low-harassment and almost toubab-free shouting definitely merits another visit and possibly even finding a reason to take my work up there for a few months.
On the return trip, we decided to take the south bank road (something I will consider very long and hard about doing next time I'm thinking about traveling- you will have to be a VERY special person to convince me to take that path again) to stay with a friend in Bansang, then with a friend who was about to return to the States whose site was near the town of Soma, a common destination point for my training group in the CRR (Central River Region). **Flashback sequence begins** Ahh, Soma, a town I loathed the first time I visited 5 months back...on foot- only to discover a false claim of cold drinks and what we thought at the time was a hiked up toubab price of a gele ride back to Kaif. No Sir-ee, we weren't going to cough up the D15, reduced from D20 because we were told by our LCH that the fair was D10! So we returned by foot, walking in total about 22K in the mid-day sun, as empty handed and more sadly, empty hearted as we had started. **Flashback ends**
Our gele ride from Bansang to Soma was "there only" as the locals say and we are now too familiar with further false claims of a gele straight to Soma, where the only 2 people in car going that far were two female toubabs while the rest of the gele was boarded by Mandinka women traveling to a naming ceremony in a town about 40K short of Soma. That said, we were basically bribed to pay a unsettling additional amount of fair simply to to be taken as far as the place where maybe, if we were lucky, we could catch the last gele to Soma. Fortunately, we were lucky, even luckier were we to sit in front of the only publicly intoxicated Muslim in the CRR. Last straw for me, or at least I thought. For when we finally arrived shortly after dusk, our only choice was to pay D75 for a town trip (a taxis usually about D5) to our friends village about 3K away. It was around that moment that we decided since PC would be picking her up soon, we would keep her company and avoid any more public transport with the hopes of getting a ride the rest of the way home with PC. Thankfully it worked out, so we probably ended up spending the equivalent, bribes and all, to what we would have spent going north bank, of course without all the excitement.
This week I've been settling back into the work routine. Last weekend, I hosted a little dinner party for some site mates. Complete with fresh ingredients like ginger and green peppers from the market, a street-roasted chicken and a couple of boxes of white wine. With the support group, we traveled to the village of Busura, where our farm land is, to poly-pot about 100 cashew seeds, later to be transplanted to start the cashew orchard. This week I also partook in the clinic OVC scene again, as well as participated in an ARV education workshop put on by the HBC program. I'm always pleasantly surprised to see the turn out of participants who come to further their education on living a healthier life-style, whether affected by HIV, TB or other ailments, despite the "per diem and lunch provided" mentality. At least people are getting the information through some capacity. I was also proud to see that several of my support group members are actively participating in anti-retro viral therapy. One of the criteria for Hands on Care to provide ARVs to patients is disclosure. Soon I am planning to talk to one of the sisters to see about taking on a patient in the HBC program. My role would be a volunteer to check up on a patient to make sure they and their care takers are adhering to their medical plan assigned to them by HOC.
I've received some really nice birthday cards in the mail from a handful of people. Of course I've already opened them even though it's not till next week. Thank you for all the kind thoughts and words. It appears the birthday party scheduled for next Friday is going to be a little more than a small gathering of site mates with cake and ice cream. Some friends from my health group are coming down from up country, so I'm really looking forward to that. Then the following weekend, the new education group swears in and officially, officially, we'll be in the rotation of non-new volunteers. I think the new agro-forestry group comes late September.
I think I've posted some new photos since the last time I posted a blog, so look at those if you get a chance. I miss you guys!
First off, per request of a friend, here are the coordinates to my house and work in Brikama, Gambia on Google Earth:
13 16'54.09N
16 38'53.19W Home
13 16'25.85N
16 38'54.31W Work
I put in the link to upload the program on the left side of the blog.
*****************************************************************
Question: (That one's for all you Office fans out there)
Why has it taken me a little longer this time to want to create my next post?
Answer: I have a few theories that most likely reflect my current point in service. Theory A: Things no longer appear "news worthy", thus reflecting on my excellent integration to my Gambia PC experience. Theory 2: I am in a "trough" period in the service according to a PC paper entitled to something of the effect of "Peaks and Valleys: a PCVs Guide to the Emotional Time Line of Service", where it is normal to spend the entire day in my house reading, where possibly the only thing I may accomplish is making my bed, only to get right back in it to spend the rest of the day with my book. Theory Z: There are too many exciting things going on in my life and it's too hard to keep up with them and transfer them to a hard copy such as a blog. Hopefully it's a small combination of all three, but I'd love to get input from you guys back home.
Now on with all the exciting things that are going on in my life... The Basse trip last week was an adventure for sure. It was really nice to get to see the countryside during the rainy season from the comfort of a crowded gele. Thanks to the pot-holed-excuse for the south-bank road and zero bridges, the most popular route to get to the largest town at he end of the country is to take the north bank road, along with a series of crowded ferry crossings. I traveled with my urban town buddy, Allison and our first stop was to visit and stay the night with a friend in our group who lives in a small Fula village, several K from the main road. It was neat to see where and how she was spending her time in service, but I have to admit, it was a little overwhelming not to be able to speak to the people in her village and after the morning of traveling, cordially "greeting" most of the compounds in the village (she knows most of their names- it's that small) was pretty tiring, not to mention it took us about 45 minutes to walk to the pump to fetch water maybe 300m away. The next morning, at which we were 5 in number, we took a horse cart to the main road to catch a gele, a series of ferries and small taxi rides, eventually arriving at our destination of the PC Basse transit house. The town of Basses reminded me of a small-one horse town in middle America; one street lined with a few restaurants, corner shops, a bank , and a barbershop, but accompanied by the iconic bean sandwich ladies, a small fresh market and fabric shops, all of which are pretty standard in urban Gambian towns. Most of my health group gathered in Basse that weekend, recreating a mini reunion. We ate soft served ice cream and visited Chris's (one of my Kaif village training mates) banana plantation in his village near Basse. After an unsuccessful attempt at contacting Kaddy, I've decided that the low-harassment and almost toubab-free shouting definitely merits another visit and possibly even finding a reason to take my work up there for a few months.
On the return trip, we decided to take the south bank road (something I will consider very long and hard about doing next time I'm thinking about traveling- you will have to be a VERY special person to convince me to take that path again) to stay with a friend in Bansang, then with a friend who was about to return to the States whose site was near the town of Soma, a common destination point for my training group in the CRR (Central River Region). **Flashback sequence begins** Ahh, Soma, a town I loathed the first time I visited 5 months back...on foot- only to discover a false claim of cold drinks and what we thought at the time was a hiked up toubab price of a gele ride back to Kaif. No Sir-ee, we weren't going to cough up the D15, reduced from D20 because we were told by our LCH that the fair was D10! So we returned by foot, walking in total about 22K in the mid-day sun, as empty handed and more sadly, empty hearted as we had started. **Flashback ends**
Our gele ride from Bansang to Soma was "there only" as the locals say and we are now too familiar with further false claims of a gele straight to Soma, where the only 2 people in car going that far were two female toubabs while the rest of the gele was boarded by Mandinka women traveling to a naming ceremony in a town about 40K short of Soma. That said, we were basically bribed to pay a unsettling additional amount of fair simply to to be taken as far as the place where maybe, if we were lucky, we could catch the last gele to Soma. Fortunately, we were lucky, even luckier were we to sit in front of the only publicly intoxicated Muslim in the CRR. Last straw for me, or at least I thought. For when we finally arrived shortly after dusk, our only choice was to pay D75 for a town trip (a taxis usually about D5) to our friends village about 3K away. It was around that moment that we decided since PC would be picking her up soon, we would keep her company and avoid any more public transport with the hopes of getting a ride the rest of the way home with PC. Thankfully it worked out, so we probably ended up spending the equivalent, bribes and all, to what we would have spent going north bank, of course without all the excitement.
This week I've been settling back into the work routine. Last weekend, I hosted a little dinner party for some site mates. Complete with fresh ingredients like ginger and green peppers from the market, a street-roasted chicken and a couple of boxes of white wine. With the support group, we traveled to the village of Busura, where our farm land is, to poly-pot about 100 cashew seeds, later to be transplanted to start the cashew orchard. This week I also partook in the clinic OVC scene again, as well as participated in an ARV education workshop put on by the HBC program. I'm always pleasantly surprised to see the turn out of participants who come to further their education on living a healthier life-style, whether affected by HIV, TB or other ailments, despite the "per diem and lunch provided" mentality. At least people are getting the information through some capacity. I was also proud to see that several of my support group members are actively participating in anti-retro viral therapy. One of the criteria for Hands on Care to provide ARVs to patients is disclosure. Soon I am planning to talk to one of the sisters to see about taking on a patient in the HBC program. My role would be a volunteer to check up on a patient to make sure they and their care takers are adhering to their medical plan assigned to them by HOC.
I've received some really nice birthday cards in the mail from a handful of people. Of course I've already opened them even though it's not till next week. Thank you for all the kind thoughts and words. It appears the birthday party scheduled for next Friday is going to be a little more than a small gathering of site mates with cake and ice cream. Some friends from my health group are coming down from up country, so I'm really looking forward to that. Then the following weekend, the new education group swears in and officially, officially, we'll be in the rotation of non-new volunteers. I think the new agro-forestry group comes late September.
I think I've posted some new photos since the last time I posted a blog, so look at those if you get a chance. I miss you guys!
Monday, July 23, 2007
Brikama, Sweet Brikama
There's nothing like a trip to a foreign land to make you appreciate your home of annoying children asking for pens and minties, funny old women asking you to take them back to "America" and smart-alec young men asking for your hand in marriage by hissing at you to get your attention first. But alas, that is my home for the next two years and I was never happier to turn the corner of my neighborhood that is Suburban Gambia, to be greeted by my neighborhood children playing their neighborhood rope games, than upon returning from our security consolidation point in Senegal. My site mate and I were appointed security wardens for our area and we went on a trial run just to scope it out last week
Don't get me wrong, I was in good company with one of my site mates and even met some hospitable Senegalese PCVs, but it was quite a little adventure for just two days and I guess that's all it took for me to appreciate my little slice of home known to tourists as "the smiling coast" and to the rest of us PCVs as something that's not appropriate to post publicly.
So, you know how I was glamorizing the rainy season? That was before I got stuck in a flash flood, without my little red umbrella that I thought would weigh me down, at 6am walking from my friend's house to the PC office to meet my travel companion. Completely drenched, we waded through the flooded streets to catch a gele to Banjul, where we would catch a ferry to Barra, later crossing the border to Senegal, then a Set+ to our final destination, but I'm getting ahead of myself. After a few minutes of standing out in the rain waiting for a decent priced ride to the ferry, a sleek black Mercedes pulls up, dropping off a school girl and asking where we were going. We looked at each other, shrugged and thought, eh, there's two of us and it's raining, so we got in the back. The driver was pretty silent even though he had a passenger in the front, and the familiar sounding Arabic tune of the Koran played over the stereo. We asked to be dropped at the ferry (if he was going that far), but as we neared the gate, also a flooded sea of geles, cars and people, the sleek Mercedes parted through them, addressing multiple employees by their first names. So I asked the humble driver if he worked for Gambia Port Authority and he ever so tactfully responded with “I’m a recently retired Captain”. And with that joy ride, our adventure officially began.
Still pretty drenched, we boarded the ferry and for the first time since arriving in Gambia, I was actually cold.
Border towns. I always forget what they’re like. Maybe it’s because my mind doesn't want me to remember the stress and pain associated with them. Do you guys like cashews? I do. But not enough for the hassle it takes to fight off the extremely pushy cashew sales girls. I made the mistake of asking how much to one of the girls. Next thing I knew, I kid you not, about 15 young girls were shoving cashew bags in my face, putting them in my purse, balancing them on my head and even in the space between my sunglasses and face. Now, I really can’t blame them. Decades of tourism and lack of food on the table has made this street vendor market a game for these children. And now, here I was, a white “madam” (French is the official language), speaking a few words of Mandinka in Wolof land and bringing even more attention to myself and my friend over a bag of cashews! We finally exchanged money, got our exit and entry stamps and hopped on a Set+ (just a station wagon from probably the 70s or so), where, just in case we still had a craving for cashews, we were still granted the option of buying because at this point a new group of girls flooded our windows until we gained speed to about 15k/h.
A few hours later, after a pleasant car ride (despite a very large tree branch being cut loose and falling only meters from our passing vehicle) and good conversations, we arrived to our destination town. It made Brikama look like (insert any town you’d rather be in) because the moment I realized I would not be communicating with anyone, I longed for Brikama. We found our consolidation point and spent the rest of the evening visiting with a group of Senegalese PCVs. The dinner was homemade and the conversations, in between episodes of Grey’s Anatomy that I hadn’t even seen before, were intellectually stimulating.
The ride back was relieving-ly uneventful. Anyway, even though I had a pretty good time, it’s nice to be back and to sleep in my own bed.
Stay tuned for the Basse-bound birthday weekend… Yeah, I still work.
Great to hear from so many of you! I knew you guys were still out there and the support helps more than you may ever realize.
******************************************************
Check out some new pictures and the YouTube link I put up. It has some scenes from Gambia.
Don't get me wrong, I was in good company with one of my site mates and even met some hospitable Senegalese PCVs, but it was quite a little adventure for just two days and I guess that's all it took for me to appreciate my little slice of home known to tourists as "the smiling coast" and to the rest of us PCVs as something that's not appropriate to post publicly.
So, you know how I was glamorizing the rainy season? That was before I got stuck in a flash flood, without my little red umbrella that I thought would weigh me down, at 6am walking from my friend's house to the PC office to meet my travel companion. Completely drenched, we waded through the flooded streets to catch a gele to Banjul, where we would catch a ferry to Barra, later crossing the border to Senegal, then a Set+ to our final destination, but I'm getting ahead of myself. After a few minutes of standing out in the rain waiting for a decent priced ride to the ferry, a sleek black Mercedes pulls up, dropping off a school girl and asking where we were going. We looked at each other, shrugged and thought, eh, there's two of us and it's raining, so we got in the back. The driver was pretty silent even though he had a passenger in the front, and the familiar sounding Arabic tune of the Koran played over the stereo. We asked to be dropped at the ferry (if he was going that far), but as we neared the gate, also a flooded sea of geles, cars and people, the sleek Mercedes parted through them, addressing multiple employees by their first names. So I asked the humble driver if he worked for Gambia Port Authority and he ever so tactfully responded with “I’m a recently retired Captain”. And with that joy ride, our adventure officially began.
Still pretty drenched, we boarded the ferry and for the first time since arriving in Gambia, I was actually cold.
Border towns. I always forget what they’re like. Maybe it’s because my mind doesn't want me to remember the stress and pain associated with them. Do you guys like cashews? I do. But not enough for the hassle it takes to fight off the extremely pushy cashew sales girls. I made the mistake of asking how much to one of the girls. Next thing I knew, I kid you not, about 15 young girls were shoving cashew bags in my face, putting them in my purse, balancing them on my head and even in the space between my sunglasses and face. Now, I really can’t blame them. Decades of tourism and lack of food on the table has made this street vendor market a game for these children. And now, here I was, a white “madam” (French is the official language), speaking a few words of Mandinka in Wolof land and bringing even more attention to myself and my friend over a bag of cashews! We finally exchanged money, got our exit and entry stamps and hopped on a Set+ (just a station wagon from probably the 70s or so), where, just in case we still had a craving for cashews, we were still granted the option of buying because at this point a new group of girls flooded our windows until we gained speed to about 15k/h.
A few hours later, after a pleasant car ride (despite a very large tree branch being cut loose and falling only meters from our passing vehicle) and good conversations, we arrived to our destination town. It made Brikama look like (insert any town you’d rather be in) because the moment I realized I would not be communicating with anyone, I longed for Brikama. We found our consolidation point and spent the rest of the evening visiting with a group of Senegalese PCVs. The dinner was homemade and the conversations, in between episodes of Grey’s Anatomy that I hadn’t even seen before, were intellectually stimulating.
The ride back was relieving-ly uneventful. Anyway, even though I had a pretty good time, it’s nice to be back and to sleep in my own bed.
Stay tuned for the Basse-bound birthday weekend… Yeah, I still work.
Great to hear from so many of you! I knew you guys were still out there and the support helps more than you may ever realize.
******************************************************
Check out some new pictures and the YouTube link I put up. It has some scenes from Gambia.
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Right. Does anyone still read this?
6 months. You guys were doing pretty good at first, but now I just feel like I'm writing to outer space! Of course writing all this is completely therapeutic for me, so I guess it doesn't matter if I'm writing it all for myself. But when it really comes down to it, I just need a little comment. Just an insy-winsy, tiny little "hi" to give me instant gratification. I mean, I have internet access, so there really is no excuse not to hear from you guys. And if you aren't tech-savy, take a lesson from Nana, and write me a letter! I think about you guys every day.
This week I'm planning on taking a trip to our safety consolidation point in Senegal. The point of the trip is to see where the people of my division (Western Divsion) would go in the case of an evacuation in Gambia. I was identified as the alternate warden so me and my site mate, who is is the warden of WD are making a 2 day trip out of it. I'll let you know how Senegal is.
Late next week those of us down country are heading up country for some birthday celebrating. I'm really looking forward to the long weekend we will make out of it, staying with friends from my health group along the way, and possibly the chance to see Kaddy, Momadu, Ebrima and Adama again.
Work is good. We had a board meeting last Sunday for Allatentu and decided to hold off on the Jaliba fundraising concert until after the 40 day charity for Fatou. I think it's now scheduled for Oct. 26th. We are getting funding from UNAIDS for the proposal I helped write for the rest of the calendar year. I'm excited about that news, but not really sure how to handle so much money. We don't have an accountant right now and I could see all this allocation of funds lying heavily on me, the white woman. Yikes. I'm not sure if I'm ready to help confirm the stereotype for the country where toubabs are the source of wealth, pens and of course, minties.
It's been raining more frequently, which has brought that smell in the air, which triggers memories of the States. I'm enjoying the way things look at the start of the rainy season, the sounds the rains make on the roofs and the care-free attitudes of my neighborhood children on the streets after the sands flood. I've never lived anywhere that only has two seasons, and I didn't realize how day after day of hot, hot sun- sunny days ALL THE TIME could actually have a negative impact on me. So, so far, I'm enjoying the 'other' season of Gambia. I went on a run for the first time in a week or so because my stomach has still been bothering me some and an afternoon storm had just finished and was still sprinkling like it does after a heavy storm and it was really nice.
Now it's time to pick on some of you...
Liddy B: Have you found a new apartment yet?
Marilina: How was the end of your semester and are you ready for year 2?
Erica: Send me a pic of Apache!
Mary: Will you get to meet up with Jim this summer?
Lisa: How's the Renegade Picture Show coming along? (Tell me something new that Summit has done this week)
Sarah: What was the last thing you did to train for the triathlon?
Chris: What do you look like these days? Can you send me your mom's email address again?
Joe and Andrea: Don't you have an anniversary coming up/ How was your anniversary?
Mom and Dad: Really not sure what I would do with out you guys right now. So glad you too are healthy. Thanks for being who you are, which has helped me become who I am.
Sherwin: Did you ever get the present I bought for you over 6 months ago? It was pretty much one of those ends of the earth and back trip to get it in Kathleen's hands, so I really hope it is in your hands now.
Todd: Megan is trying to get a hold of you to give you money for the tree TV ad.
Jeanne and Jeff: Congrats again on the wedding!
Roscoe: Where's your ball?
Susie: Stop trying to eat chippies. They're way smaller than you and can't defend themselves.
Victoria's Pasta Shop: Please save a heaping portion of the make your own pasta: whole wheat linguine with spinach, sun-dried tomatoes and kalamata olives for a dedicated customer.
Dr. Phil: Did you send my "Self-Esteem Boost" program to the insurance companies yet?
I know I'm missing a lot of people, but this should get the ball rolling, eh? Don't worry, your time will come.
This week I'm planning on taking a trip to our safety consolidation point in Senegal. The point of the trip is to see where the people of my division (Western Divsion) would go in the case of an evacuation in Gambia. I was identified as the alternate warden so me and my site mate, who is is the warden of WD are making a 2 day trip out of it. I'll let you know how Senegal is.
Late next week those of us down country are heading up country for some birthday celebrating. I'm really looking forward to the long weekend we will make out of it, staying with friends from my health group along the way, and possibly the chance to see Kaddy, Momadu, Ebrima and Adama again.
Work is good. We had a board meeting last Sunday for Allatentu and decided to hold off on the Jaliba fundraising concert until after the 40 day charity for Fatou. I think it's now scheduled for Oct. 26th. We are getting funding from UNAIDS for the proposal I helped write for the rest of the calendar year. I'm excited about that news, but not really sure how to handle so much money. We don't have an accountant right now and I could see all this allocation of funds lying heavily on me, the white woman. Yikes. I'm not sure if I'm ready to help confirm the stereotype for the country where toubabs are the source of wealth, pens and of course, minties.
It's been raining more frequently, which has brought that smell in the air, which triggers memories of the States. I'm enjoying the way things look at the start of the rainy season, the sounds the rains make on the roofs and the care-free attitudes of my neighborhood children on the streets after the sands flood. I've never lived anywhere that only has two seasons, and I didn't realize how day after day of hot, hot sun- sunny days ALL THE TIME could actually have a negative impact on me. So, so far, I'm enjoying the 'other' season of Gambia. I went on a run for the first time in a week or so because my stomach has still been bothering me some and an afternoon storm had just finished and was still sprinkling like it does after a heavy storm and it was really nice.
Now it's time to pick on some of you...
Liddy B: Have you found a new apartment yet?
Marilina: How was the end of your semester and are you ready for year 2?
Erica: Send me a pic of Apache!
Mary: Will you get to meet up with Jim this summer?
Lisa: How's the Renegade Picture Show coming along? (Tell me something new that Summit has done this week)
Kathleen: I need the book after Ender's Game, STAT!
Sarah: What was the last thing you did to train for the triathlon?
Chris: What do you look like these days? Can you send me your mom's email address again?
Joe and Andrea: Don't you have an anniversary coming up/ How was your anniversary?
Mom and Dad: Really not sure what I would do with out you guys right now. So glad you too are healthy. Thanks for being who you are, which has helped me become who I am.
Sherwin: Did you ever get the present I bought for you over 6 months ago? It was pretty much one of those ends of the earth and back trip to get it in Kathleen's hands, so I really hope it is in your hands now.
Todd: Megan is trying to get a hold of you to give you money for the tree TV ad.
Jeanne and Jeff: Congrats again on the wedding!
Roscoe: Where's your ball?
Susie: Stop trying to eat chippies. They're way smaller than you and can't defend themselves.
Victoria's Pasta Shop: Please save a heaping portion of the make your own pasta: whole wheat linguine with spinach, sun-dried tomatoes and kalamata olives for a dedicated customer.
Dr. Phil: Did you send my "Self-Esteem Boost" program to the insurance companies yet?
I know I'm missing a lot of people, but this should get the ball rolling, eh? Don't worry, your time will come.
Thursday, July 12, 2007
The grass is always greener...
when on the other side is sand. This proverb seemed only appropriate when, during the all vol weekend, we PCVs went to a BBQ dinner hosted by the Agro-forestry. Now, I must admit that I'm getting more used to walking into the occasional westernized compound and perhaps coming face to face with a small refrigerator. However, this time, it all but felt like we'd been transported into the set of that Big Brother TV show, when, after walking through a house set up like you'd find in the States (which look completely sterile to me at this point), I stepped off the back porch to a yard full of green grass. Now, you have to understand, the Gambia is to sand and concrete as the ocean is to water and waves.
The week is pretty much a blur now, but it was spent in great company with my training group friends who I used to see at least every week but haven't seen in 3 months. It was nice to see how everyone is adjusting, compare struggles and triumphs and just act like Americans in the company of other Americans for a few days. Now I know what PC all-volunteer and section meetings are like and feel like I've met the majority of the volunteers serving in Gambia. It was also interesting to be around those volunteers who were closing service; partly envying their finished duties, partly enjoying not having to look for a job for another 2 years. At the same time though, just as I anticipated, there was an unnecessary amount of stress that went with the disruption of my settling simplistic Brikama lifestyle. Having visitors stay with you in a developing country is not like entertaining in the States (though I do ultimately enjoy both, it's just more difficult at Camera Kunda). Instead of fretting over whether the roast and potatoes will be finished at the same time and which year of wine will taste best, you have to be concerned about whether everyone will have enough drinking water, especially when the sun light decides when the tap will be flowing. Then there's always the unwanted attention factor of not just one toubab walking through the car park, but a group of 3 or 4, which ultimately encourages the same response as what I would imagine it might be like for "Brangelina" to walk down any street in rural America. *SIDE NOTE: The other day I was riding in a Gele, dressed in a hat and sunglasses, when the boy next to me told me I "looked like this one PC named Mariama who lives in Brikama." I played along until he said he was my neighbor's brother, then I realized I'd most likey be seeing him again and gave in and introduced myself as Mariama as I exited the Gele. Living in this environment makes me re-think the glamorized idea that famous-ness presents to the layman.
But the strange part was I didn't realize how settled I've become until I returned to site and felt even more uprooted than if I had been moving to site for the very first time. It didn't help that soon after, I came down with what I realize now was Giardia for a good 4 days, thus was not able to get back into my work routine, which really does provide a good sense of purpose, hospitality and fulfillment. Furthermore, during the Giardia bout, I learned of the untimely death of one of our support group members. This amazingly strong-willed, compassionate and talented woman was the lead singer in our Allatentu Support Band. Her passing represents a lot and she will sincerely be missed.
In ways that I am not able to describe through words, the meaning of the work now seems somewhat different. Maybe it is because I was already feeling out of sorts before I was informed of her death, but all of a sudden, I feel burdened personally with issues that affect me morally and with issues that affect this country and the nature of the work, ethically. Fortunately and a little ironically, I have a pretty good support system and I realize the impotent thing is to keep physically and emotionally healthy because no one will benefit if those areas fail.
On that note, birthday parties are a great way to relieve stress, especially when they involve hunting for cake bakeries and only finding "topalopa" bakeries in Brikama, as was the way one of my site mates celebrated his.
********READ ME***********
And speaking of birthdays, my newest request is just an old fashioned birthday card with the old fashioned cold, hard cash. The reason being, $25 (which is what you get for turning 25 in my book) goes as far as buying the spice cake cake mix and cream cheese frosting they now sell at Kairaba super market!!!! and at least 4 boxes of primly aged wine- the "red" kind.
Friday, June 29, 2007
Birthday Wish List/ Pictures Posted
So what do you get the birthday girl who seems to have everything? Well, considering the closest Walgreens is probably an entire continent away, you've got quite a few options. Just in time for the 25th birthday coming up mid-August, I'm putting together a little wish list. Nothing would make me happier than opening birthday cards and eating Cripsy M&Ms (in the light blue package) on that day (or give or take a few weeks).
*Buying one of the Allatentu Support Band CDs from my mom
*Birthday cards and letters and photos
*Crispy M&Ms
*Mike and Ikes
*Extra Chewing Gum (in the blue package)
*Cliff Bars
*Dried Fruit
*Jane and Marie Claire magazines
*A package of pens
*Dry M&M cookie mix/ box Spice Cake mix with Cream Cheese frosting
*A chin-up bar for a door frame
I'll probably think of more later, so I'll let you know.
Also, I just wanted to give a shout out to my friends Lisa, Aaron and little Mr. Man. Did you guys used to live in the Gambia? Because you sure do know how to put together a care package!
Yesterday, a few of us Brikama-surrounding site mates got together for an afternoon of chatting and cold drinks at a "restaurant" in Brikama. It was really nice to feel apart of my surrounding (not so much how I feel when I go to Kombo and eat at a restaurant there). A few of my hospital co-workers passed by and gave the casual wave, then on my way home, I carried a gourd bowl on my head (the left one in the picture) and hit up a neighbor's Kuliyo (naming ceremony) where, even before I dropped some money in the pot, I was served Wanjo and called to eat SooSoo (the traditional Kuliyo feast).
Finishing up the UNAIDS proposal this week and preparing for guests before the All-Vol next week...more to come!
Thursday, June 21, 2007
Choose Your Own Adventure
Sometimes I feel like I'm living the life of a character in one of those "choose your own adventure" books. It's like this is what happens when a 15 year old is bored of "The Babysitter Club." I say all this not because I think I'm living a fictional life, but because I REALLY have no idea what will happen during the span of my days, and I can just picture some young reader thinking "hmm, let's have her go greet the new Education Trainees because she hasn't been in the company of fellow Americans for some time now-THAT should be interesting". But what if the young reader had decided that I'd stay in Brikama for the weekend, instead? Well, I'll fill you in on both (because you know no one ever just reads option A).
As of last Tuesday, my health group is no longer the "new group" in town. The eduction guys arrived and as is tradition, a celebration at the local "Come In" was in store. Basically, it's a chance for volunteers to meet the trainees, for trainees to ask volunteer questions and for volunteers to think quietly to themselves "man, am I glad I'm not in training anymore" (even though I haven't been out of training that long, I'm still glad it's over with). And that's exactly what we did. It was like a little piece of the States; having a drink with some friends and ending by satisfying the sweet tooth at the local crepe place (except that everyone was commenting that it was at least 4 hours past their bedtimes). We even watched a movie at the PC hostel and I made an egg, cheese and vegetable toasted sandwich that was the envy my company. The whole event left me feeling pretty refreshed when I made the Gele ride back to Brikama, but when I rounded the corner to my compound, I noticed that the place was unusually quiet. I greeted my host mom, Tida and went through the normal cycle of asking where everyone was and was momentarily breathless when the answer to "where is Kaddy?" was "she went to Basse". Now, I have to admit that I was not completely surprised since she was waiting for someone to take her by a private car, but something inside dropped to the pit of my stomach and I felt floaty as I made the short walk, but long entry (I couldn't get the door unlocked fast enough) into my little bungalow of a house. I hadn't planned on shedding tears, but my heart had other plans and as I went about unpacking my things from the Fajara trip and preparing for company that was bound to arrive any second, the flood gates opened. So many thoughts raced through my mind: you knew they were leaving anyway, she knew I wanted to go!, wasn't it normal for site mates you'd only hung out with 2 times to show up at PCV's houses only to find them uncontrollably sobbing?, where am I going to find my source of hugs now?- and it really wouldn't have been that big of a deal, except that it turns out Kaddy and her kids were not just going to Basse for work during the rainy season, but actually moving back home for good. That's right- all that "22 more months means a chance to teach Kaddy and her kids some English and read a little" business is going to have to be re-directed somewhere, somehow.
Anyway, I gathered some composure and waited for my site mate to show up. We were, after all, going to hang out, catch up and spill some travel tips about Ghana (where I'm planning to visit late August or so). The afternoon was exactly what I needed to get my mind off my sudden onset of separation anxiety. Her boyfriend had just gotten back from serving for the African Union (AU) with Gambia in Darfur. As we ate our lunch of jambo and manno (leaf sauce and rice) on the front porch, he shared intimate first hand details of what he had experienced and the current status in Darfur. Since the time Ruth Messenger came to OU in Nov 2005 to shed light and raise awareness about the situation, I have found myself interested. Now, to be sitting on the soil, across from an active member of the AU, listening to his account of the refugee camps, human violations, not to mention rapes and even personal stonings, is something that I really can't explain. I just sat there like a sponge, soaking up every detail, surprised at facts like the AU is comprised of only 5 African countries: Gambia (who sends 197 of the 7,000 members), South Africa, Senegal, Rawanda and Nigeria, while letting him know how proud I was to know him and thank you for your service. Why haven't I ever gotten that same feeling about my own country? Then, as abruptly as the rains seem to stop, we found ourselves chatting light-heartily about Mandinka proverbs; one in particular where you can say 2 words to one person in a whole group and you are suddenly excused from the mess you were about to be in.
Maybe she hasn't experienced enough in the past 24 hours", the young reader thought. "I think I'll 'flip to page 168' this time and see what it's like to spend a day at home in the compound."
Well, since I'd felt sort of mopey and in a funk since Kaddy left, I decided to lounge around the compound, with the intention of stopping by the center later in the afternoon. I'd made it as far as walking to the bitik (tiny neighborhood shop where even if you asked me what they sold, I couldn't tell you-except that is, chocolate sandwiches) to buy a chocolate sandwich, when en-route, I was passed by a mother of a patient in our HBC program. I'd visited her and her 2 year old daughter who was on TB treatment (and was prob HIV positive as well) a few times with one of the sisters and had been pleasantly surprised to see them both at the clinic one afternoon, the child looking not as malnourished as I'd last seen her. This time the mother was alone, on her way home and through the usual greetings, I found out that her daughter had died just the day before. Hadn't sister Christine told me?, the mother wanted to know. No, she hadn't (but I had only seen her in the morning and maybe she passed in the afternoon). Then, I was struggling to remember my Mandinka Muslim prayer to say when you find out someone had passed. Of course I couldn't remember because I'd never had to say it to someone before, so I just stood there for what seemed like minutes, then we closed and she asked when I would come to her compound again.
But despite all the depressing turn of events, work is looking pretty good. Last week, the country director of UNAIDS Gambia came to the ASK office and basically declared that they were doing a needs assessment of support groups around the country, there were funds to be allocated and that if we wrote a short proposal explaining ASK's activities, needs and challenges, that there was a good chance that some things would be funded (which is great since our rent is only paid through Oct and it's sneaking up on us). I was quite surprised that someone just waltzed in with the impression that they would be our funding source. Will it really be that easy? So we called a board meeting (had a GREAT turn out of 8 board members) to discuss what to put in the proposal that will be submitted by the end of the week. We also talked about our Jelibah fundraiser that will take place on July 20th for the Allatentu Support Band (and cassette selling strategies) and devised an action committee to start putting that, well, into "action". I left feeling that the meeting ran somewhat similarly to a meeting in the States, and that was an amazing feeling. We'll see now how much talk is followed through.
Next week PC is holding an All-Volunteer meeting, which means the end of our "3 month challenge". I'm looking forward to seeing everyone from our group again, but can only imagine how hectic it will be to have more than 100 toubabs in one concentrated place at one time. Some of my friends are coming in early this weekend to stay with me and I'm heavily considering going up country with them after the All-Vol to re-connect with my sister and her kids and see the rest of the country.
CDs For Sale: My mom now has 15 more CDs that she would LOVE for you to take off her hands. The asking donation price is $10, but it's up to you if you'd like to contribute beyond that.
I sure do miss you guys sometimes! Did I mention that letters are pretty much the highlight of my entire week? Mail run was supposed to come last Wednesday for me and when they didn't show in the midst of my emotionally unstable week, it just got worse. Turns out, the car accidentally turned over on its side (thanks to the pot-hole-filled south bank road). No one was hurt badly, but everyone was a little shaken up. Needless to say, mail still hasn't made its way here. I'm just glad to find out everyone was okay. But seriously, please take the 5 minutes and 91 cents to write and address me a letter. I promise I will write one back to you.
As of last Tuesday, my health group is no longer the "new group" in town. The eduction guys arrived and as is tradition, a celebration at the local "Come In" was in store. Basically, it's a chance for volunteers to meet the trainees, for trainees to ask volunteer questions and for volunteers to think quietly to themselves "man, am I glad I'm not in training anymore" (even though I haven't been out of training that long, I'm still glad it's over with). And that's exactly what we did. It was like a little piece of the States; having a drink with some friends and ending by satisfying the sweet tooth at the local crepe place (except that everyone was commenting that it was at least 4 hours past their bedtimes). We even watched a movie at the PC hostel and I made an egg, cheese and vegetable toasted sandwich that was the envy my company. The whole event left me feeling pretty refreshed when I made the Gele ride back to Brikama, but when I rounded the corner to my compound, I noticed that the place was unusually quiet. I greeted my host mom, Tida and went through the normal cycle of asking where everyone was and was momentarily breathless when the answer to "where is Kaddy?" was "she went to Basse". Now, I have to admit that I was not completely surprised since she was waiting for someone to take her by a private car, but something inside dropped to the pit of my stomach and I felt floaty as I made the short walk, but long entry (I couldn't get the door unlocked fast enough) into my little bungalow of a house. I hadn't planned on shedding tears, but my heart had other plans and as I went about unpacking my things from the Fajara trip and preparing for company that was bound to arrive any second, the flood gates opened. So many thoughts raced through my mind: you knew they were leaving anyway, she knew I wanted to go!, wasn't it normal for site mates you'd only hung out with 2 times to show up at PCV's houses only to find them uncontrollably sobbing?, where am I going to find my source of hugs now?- and it really wouldn't have been that big of a deal, except that it turns out Kaddy and her kids were not just going to Basse for work during the rainy season, but actually moving back home for good. That's right- all that "22 more months means a chance to teach Kaddy and her kids some English and read a little" business is going to have to be re-directed somewhere, somehow.
Anyway, I gathered some composure and waited for my site mate to show up. We were, after all, going to hang out, catch up and spill some travel tips about Ghana (where I'm planning to visit late August or so). The afternoon was exactly what I needed to get my mind off my sudden onset of separation anxiety. Her boyfriend had just gotten back from serving for the African Union (AU) with Gambia in Darfur. As we ate our lunch of jambo and manno (leaf sauce and rice) on the front porch, he shared intimate first hand details of what he had experienced and the current status in Darfur. Since the time Ruth Messenger came to OU in Nov 2005 to shed light and raise awareness about the situation, I have found myself interested. Now, to be sitting on the soil, across from an active member of the AU, listening to his account of the refugee camps, human violations, not to mention rapes and even personal stonings, is something that I really can't explain. I just sat there like a sponge, soaking up every detail, surprised at facts like the AU is comprised of only 5 African countries: Gambia (who sends 197 of the 7,000 members), South Africa, Senegal, Rawanda and Nigeria, while letting him know how proud I was to know him and thank you for your service. Why haven't I ever gotten that same feeling about my own country? Then, as abruptly as the rains seem to stop, we found ourselves chatting light-heartily about Mandinka proverbs; one in particular where you can say 2 words to one person in a whole group and you are suddenly excused from the mess you were about to be in.
Maybe she hasn't experienced enough in the past 24 hours", the young reader thought. "I think I'll 'flip to page 168' this time and see what it's like to spend a day at home in the compound."
Well, since I'd felt sort of mopey and in a funk since Kaddy left, I decided to lounge around the compound, with the intention of stopping by the center later in the afternoon. I'd made it as far as walking to the bitik (tiny neighborhood shop where even if you asked me what they sold, I couldn't tell you-except that is, chocolate sandwiches) to buy a chocolate sandwich, when en-route, I was passed by a mother of a patient in our HBC program. I'd visited her and her 2 year old daughter who was on TB treatment (and was prob HIV positive as well) a few times with one of the sisters and had been pleasantly surprised to see them both at the clinic one afternoon, the child looking not as malnourished as I'd last seen her. This time the mother was alone, on her way home and through the usual greetings, I found out that her daughter had died just the day before. Hadn't sister Christine told me?, the mother wanted to know. No, she hadn't (but I had only seen her in the morning and maybe she passed in the afternoon). Then, I was struggling to remember my Mandinka Muslim prayer to say when you find out someone had passed. Of course I couldn't remember because I'd never had to say it to someone before, so I just stood there for what seemed like minutes, then we closed and she asked when I would come to her compound again.
But despite all the depressing turn of events, work is looking pretty good. Last week, the country director of UNAIDS Gambia came to the ASK office and basically declared that they were doing a needs assessment of support groups around the country, there were funds to be allocated and that if we wrote a short proposal explaining ASK's activities, needs and challenges, that there was a good chance that some things would be funded (which is great since our rent is only paid through Oct and it's sneaking up on us). I was quite surprised that someone just waltzed in with the impression that they would be our funding source. Will it really be that easy? So we called a board meeting (had a GREAT turn out of 8 board members) to discuss what to put in the proposal that will be submitted by the end of the week. We also talked about our Jelibah fundraiser that will take place on July 20th for the Allatentu Support Band (and cassette selling strategies) and devised an action committee to start putting that, well, into "action". I left feeling that the meeting ran somewhat similarly to a meeting in the States, and that was an amazing feeling. We'll see now how much talk is followed through.
Next week PC is holding an All-Volunteer meeting, which means the end of our "3 month challenge". I'm looking forward to seeing everyone from our group again, but can only imagine how hectic it will be to have more than 100 toubabs in one concentrated place at one time. Some of my friends are coming in early this weekend to stay with me and I'm heavily considering going up country with them after the All-Vol to re-connect with my sister and her kids and see the rest of the country.
CDs For Sale: My mom now has 15 more CDs that she would LOVE for you to take off her hands. The asking donation price is $10, but it's up to you if you'd like to contribute beyond that.
I sure do miss you guys sometimes! Did I mention that letters are pretty much the highlight of my entire week? Mail run was supposed to come last Wednesday for me and when they didn't show in the midst of my emotionally unstable week, it just got worse. Turns out, the car accidentally turned over on its side (thanks to the pot-hole-filled south bank road). No one was hurt badly, but everyone was a little shaken up. Needless to say, mail still hasn't made its way here. I'm just glad to find out everyone was okay. But seriously, please take the 5 minutes and 91 cents to write and address me a letter. I promise I will write one back to you.
Friday, June 15, 2007
Culture Dictionary
So, I realized recently that there are quite a few things about the Gambian culutre that I want to share but may have neglected. This is a very concise "dictionary" of my opinion of things, to help explain some stuff I see on pretty much a daily basis. (Not in alphabetical order, though- some dictionary, huh?, and some of this I borrowed from fellow PCVs) Also, obviously I haven't gone to Basse, yet (see, TIME).
1. Pounding: What the women start doing with rice and millet and any other food we eat, in a large morter with a larger pestal, even before the roosters start crowing to prepare their food days in advance.
2. Gele-Gele: Bush taxi that could take hours to catch, which is ALWAYS full of people, and breaks down as often as Micheal Jackson does in his "Thriller" video.
3. Toubab: The word that I've learned to ignore, but use when describing my fellow PCV friends to others (if you call me this back in the States, I will ignore you, too.)
4. Small Boy: This is one of my favoirtes (to witness, not participate in). This is where you get someone younger than you to do your work for you. As one of the PCVs explained, this is used as a verb, such as "I wonder what Fatou is doing right now? Geez, it's hot out and I don't want to walk all the way to her compound, so I think I'll small boy her to see what she's doing."
5. Attaya: The name of the highly cafinated tea that is added their cup of sugar. You can see young boys brewing their sugar additive at all hours of the day, even in the 100 degree heat. Which brings me to the next word...
6. Hot: And I thought I knew what it was, growing up in Texas and all. This is a constant topic of conversation. I'm closer to the coast, so I really can't complain all that much, but let's just say that people don't go inside their houses to sleep until around 4am. Pass me the steaming, hot attaya, please!
7. Time: In training, we learned that is called "polychronic" here. In training village, we coined the phrase "they took too much polychronic this morning". This basically means when someone tells you to be at the car park at 8am, they won't be there until 10. It means when my sister thinks she's leaving with her kids to travel across the country, on someone else's schedule, she really has absolutely no idea when that could be. It means practicing patience and wondering if I'll bring the polychronic back with me to the States (I'm guessing not, since I probably won't pass customs with it in tow).
8. Trip Gift aka Sila Fando: Something given to the people you are going to visit, or in my case, live with for the next two years. It ususally consists of Kola nuts, attaya and sugar (caffine, caffine, and caffine affects).
9. Namesake aka Toma: The person of whom you are named after. I think I've only heard about 30 names. When I hear one I've never heard before, I'm a little surprised. When I introduce myself to another Mariama, it's like Christmas and if I introduce myself to another Mariama Camera, it's like Christmas and New Years, only if they were even more close on the calander. The other day I asked Sr. how many Tomas she thinks she has running around Gambia. People are so grateful to her, that I've seen at least 3 "Christine's" duing the short time I've been here.
10. Kulliyo: The naming ceremony where the baby is named after someone. People really don't celebrate their birthdays and if you ask when they were born, many will say things like "The year that the first Peace Corps came to stay with us". With that said, the Kulliyo is almost like all the person's birthday parties for their entire life rolled into one, huge, naming ceremony. Typically, some kind of live stock is killed, sheep being the most prized, and they can last up to a week with endless food, dancing and music. The ceremony usually won't happen for a while, as infant mortality is a concern. Also, can you imagine how much it would cost to have all your birthday celebrations at once?!
11. Tiya Futo: My new favorite sweet. Basically, it tastes like peanut butter cookie dough. It's made of ground peanuts, ground millet and sugar, pounded together and smashed into little balls. I like it because I can afford it on a daily basis in somewhat satiating quantities, it's sort of healthy (grain and protein) and the woman who sells it to me already knows me so well that one day I forgot my wallet and she gave me D5 worth on "credit". We have a little deal going on, too. I've noticed that if I bring my own zip lock bag, she puts a few extra balls in.
Also, polygomy is practiced. It is not practiced by everyone, but quite a few families consist of the one, male, head of household and multiple wives, and thus multiple children. If a man dies, his brothers may also chose to marry his wives and inherit his children.
Now, a few stories:
I am now the proud owner of a second hand, stained glass and wood, cat lamp, purchased by using Mandinka! I spotted it the first time when we were on our way to a home vist, passing by car, through the edge of the market. It sat on a stand with a bunch of appliances and I felt as if I were passing a garage sale back in the States every time. So, finally, one Friday afternoon around prayer time, I set out on foot to see if it was still there and even better, to see if it actually worked. There was also the "Toubab price" factor, so I had researched how much a typical lamp cost at one of the other appliance stands and found that they went for about D50. When I got there, I asked who was selling the cat lamp. A woman came around the corner and announced she was selling it. After a sucessful greeting session, she asked my name and we relized we were Tomas (her name was Janke Camera- a nickname of Mariama). Suddenly, it was like Christmas and New Years, and I knew at that instant, the cat lamp would be mine at a fair price! After chatting about where I was staying what I was doing here, I asked the price. When she told me D140, I told her that the price was too high, I'd seen lamps for much less and that, come on, now, we were Toma's afterall! After bargaining a little, we agreed on D60, then checked to make sure it actually worked. The moment I saw 4 cats, shining yellow, green, blue and red, I began to smile a smile that would stay with me all the way back to Camera Kunda.
Okay, now I want you to think of the last time you stepped fresh out of your steaming hot, running water, shower. Think of the lush, clean and newly washed-detergent smelling, thick towl that you wrapped your sopping wet body with and how it worked so well to soak up all that water. Yeah, so I brought one of those towls with me, thinking that at the very least, I would have that luxery of a fresh, thick towl to dry off with after taking my evening bucket bath. I even went so far as to ask my mom to buy me a new one before I left. I remember picking it out at Target, running my hands down the towl isle, feeling for the softest one and finally settling on one in a dark color (so the dirt wouldn't show as much). I later learned why those towls feel so good when drying off with them. Unfortunately I never got to use it the way it was inteneded. I had some people spend the night in training and the towl was used several times as a blanket and pillow. After those uses, I decided it was time to wash it. After I washed it (by hand, like everything else is washed), I immediately gave it to my host family. It was that moment of great stuggle while washing my plush, cotton, water soaking towl-the towl that I thought would be my friend for the next 2 years- that I realized I was going to lose. I've never felt the weight of so much water on one material article, as I did when I submurged my towl in the suds. I was simply not meant to wash, much less, own, a plush towl in Gambia. Thankfully, a few friends gave me the quick-dry towels before I left. They are truly amazing inventions and truly amazing friends. Now if I can only come to enjoy washing those double-bed sheets I bought...
1. Pounding: What the women start doing with rice and millet and any other food we eat, in a large morter with a larger pestal, even before the roosters start crowing to prepare their food days in advance.
2. Gele-Gele: Bush taxi that could take hours to catch, which is ALWAYS full of people, and breaks down as often as Micheal Jackson does in his "Thriller" video.
3. Toubab: The word that I've learned to ignore, but use when describing my fellow PCV friends to others (if you call me this back in the States, I will ignore you, too.)
4. Small Boy: This is one of my favoirtes (to witness, not participate in). This is where you get someone younger than you to do your work for you. As one of the PCVs explained, this is used as a verb, such as "I wonder what Fatou is doing right now? Geez, it's hot out and I don't want to walk all the way to her compound, so I think I'll small boy her to see what she's doing."
5. Attaya: The name of the highly cafinated tea that is added their cup of sugar. You can see young boys brewing their sugar additive at all hours of the day, even in the 100 degree heat. Which brings me to the next word...
6. Hot: And I thought I knew what it was, growing up in Texas and all. This is a constant topic of conversation. I'm closer to the coast, so I really can't complain all that much, but let's just say that people don't go inside their houses to sleep until around 4am. Pass me the steaming, hot attaya, please!
7. Time: In training, we learned that is called "polychronic" here. In training village, we coined the phrase "they took too much polychronic this morning". This basically means when someone tells you to be at the car park at 8am, they won't be there until 10. It means when my sister thinks she's leaving with her kids to travel across the country, on someone else's schedule, she really has absolutely no idea when that could be. It means practicing patience and wondering if I'll bring the polychronic back with me to the States (I'm guessing not, since I probably won't pass customs with it in tow).
8. Trip Gift aka Sila Fando: Something given to the people you are going to visit, or in my case, live with for the next two years. It ususally consists of Kola nuts, attaya and sugar (caffine, caffine, and caffine affects).
9. Namesake aka Toma: The person of whom you are named after. I think I've only heard about 30 names. When I hear one I've never heard before, I'm a little surprised. When I introduce myself to another Mariama, it's like Christmas and if I introduce myself to another Mariama Camera, it's like Christmas and New Years, only if they were even more close on the calander. The other day I asked Sr. how many Tomas she thinks she has running around Gambia. People are so grateful to her, that I've seen at least 3 "Christine's" duing the short time I've been here.
10. Kulliyo: The naming ceremony where the baby is named after someone. People really don't celebrate their birthdays and if you ask when they were born, many will say things like "The year that the first Peace Corps came to stay with us". With that said, the Kulliyo is almost like all the person's birthday parties for their entire life rolled into one, huge, naming ceremony. Typically, some kind of live stock is killed, sheep being the most prized, and they can last up to a week with endless food, dancing and music. The ceremony usually won't happen for a while, as infant mortality is a concern. Also, can you imagine how much it would cost to have all your birthday celebrations at once?!
11. Tiya Futo: My new favorite sweet. Basically, it tastes like peanut butter cookie dough. It's made of ground peanuts, ground millet and sugar, pounded together and smashed into little balls. I like it because I can afford it on a daily basis in somewhat satiating quantities, it's sort of healthy (grain and protein) and the woman who sells it to me already knows me so well that one day I forgot my wallet and she gave me D5 worth on "credit". We have a little deal going on, too. I've noticed that if I bring my own zip lock bag, she puts a few extra balls in.
Also, polygomy is practiced. It is not practiced by everyone, but quite a few families consist of the one, male, head of household and multiple wives, and thus multiple children. If a man dies, his brothers may also chose to marry his wives and inherit his children.
Now, a few stories:
I am now the proud owner of a second hand, stained glass and wood, cat lamp, purchased by using Mandinka! I spotted it the first time when we were on our way to a home vist, passing by car, through the edge of the market. It sat on a stand with a bunch of appliances and I felt as if I were passing a garage sale back in the States every time. So, finally, one Friday afternoon around prayer time, I set out on foot to see if it was still there and even better, to see if it actually worked. There was also the "Toubab price" factor, so I had researched how much a typical lamp cost at one of the other appliance stands and found that they went for about D50. When I got there, I asked who was selling the cat lamp. A woman came around the corner and announced she was selling it. After a sucessful greeting session, she asked my name and we relized we were Tomas (her name was Janke Camera- a nickname of Mariama). Suddenly, it was like Christmas and New Years, and I knew at that instant, the cat lamp would be mine at a fair price! After chatting about where I was staying what I was doing here, I asked the price. When she told me D140, I told her that the price was too high, I'd seen lamps for much less and that, come on, now, we were Toma's afterall! After bargaining a little, we agreed on D60, then checked to make sure it actually worked. The moment I saw 4 cats, shining yellow, green, blue and red, I began to smile a smile that would stay with me all the way back to Camera Kunda.
Okay, now I want you to think of the last time you stepped fresh out of your steaming hot, running water, shower. Think of the lush, clean and newly washed-detergent smelling, thick towl that you wrapped your sopping wet body with and how it worked so well to soak up all that water. Yeah, so I brought one of those towls with me, thinking that at the very least, I would have that luxery of a fresh, thick towl to dry off with after taking my evening bucket bath. I even went so far as to ask my mom to buy me a new one before I left. I remember picking it out at Target, running my hands down the towl isle, feeling for the softest one and finally settling on one in a dark color (so the dirt wouldn't show as much). I later learned why those towls feel so good when drying off with them. Unfortunately I never got to use it the way it was inteneded. I had some people spend the night in training and the towl was used several times as a blanket and pillow. After those uses, I decided it was time to wash it. After I washed it (by hand, like everything else is washed), I immediately gave it to my host family. It was that moment of great stuggle while washing my plush, cotton, water soaking towl-the towl that I thought would be my friend for the next 2 years- that I realized I was going to lose. I've never felt the weight of so much water on one material article, as I did when I submurged my towl in the suds. I was simply not meant to wash, much less, own, a plush towl in Gambia. Thankfully, a few friends gave me the quick-dry towels before I left. They are truly amazing inventions and truly amazing friends. Now if I can only come to enjoy washing those double-bed sheets I bought...
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Paint By Numbers
Preface to this next blog: I was home, sick and must have been in a pensive mood when I wrote it. After re-reading it, it seems a little heavy, but I thought I might as well post it because how else are you going to know what the heck is going on over here?!
I want to try to give some mental pictures of a few things that repeatedly stand out in my mind, especially in the areas of culture, race and religion. The end of this month will bring 5 months in country. To me, that signifies that one of my closest girlfriend's 2 week old baby is actually going to be 5 months old. It means I've seen the moon wax and wane (yes, dear Gambian child, the same one we have back in America)and the stars disappear and reappear under this bountiful, African sky, through a five-cylce period. It means 22 more months of service; which seems like quite a bit of time to dedicate to help improve the lively hood of the support group members, as well as exchanging cultural beliefs, but will probably fly by. It means 22 more months of not meeting friends back home at my favorite pub after an endorphin-filled-my eyelashes are going to hurt tomorrow-climbing session at the gym, playing fetch with the dog, or seeing that hyped-up summer flick. It means a pretty good chance at becoming near fluent in Mandinka, and if you are a believer in that saying "you are what you eat", look for the person in the airport 2 years from now that highly resembles a mango. It means a chance to teach my sis and her kids some English and how to read a little, as well as watch her youngest take his first steps.
Twenty-two more months will allow me to hear approximately 3,350 more prayer calls over the mosque loud speaker. I've come to find the entire process of Islamic prayer mesmerizing to watch, comforting to hear, and overall beautiful to live among. At first, I thought the idea of subjecting an entire country to the ways of Alla was disrupting so many church and state, not to mention noise violation laws, that a complaint box somewhere simply had to be overflowing by now. Wasn't there such a thing as separation between mosque and state?! Apparently not when more than 95% of the country's citizens claim the same religion, in this case Islam. Now, only 5 months later, I look past 22 months and wonder what it will be like not to live among one of the only constants that I can immediately put my finger on. Five times a day, corresponding with sunrises and sunsets (currently: 5:50am, 2pm, 5pm, 7:42pm, and 8:42pm), the Imam (prayer leader) flips the bull horn to the on position, mats are rolled out, shoes are removed and women's heads are covered with brightly designed scarves, and every practicing Muslim in Gambia faces east. From there, they start their eloquent series of Arabic versus while first bending from the hips, then knees, ankles and finally the neck. I am naive to the number of times and the significance to it all and I can't help but feel that my nervous glances towards and away the mesmerizing movements are somewhat legitimate; like the same feeling of uneasiness I would get from taking communion during mass where everyone knows I'm not Catholic. I'm encouraged more now than ever to seek out an English version of the Koran, as well as other religious texts, to add to my repertoire of the dozen of books I have a good chance of finishing by the end of our "3 month challenge".
Five months in country has also allowed me to whole-heartedly recognize that frightened look on a toddler's face as we nervously stroll towards each other, unsure of one an other's intentions so we stay away from sudden movements. Did I forget to take off my Halloween mask that I wear to bed every night? I'm guessing that's not the case. Am I the first person of unlike pigmentation they've come across or remember during their short life thus far on this giant earth? This, a more likely explanation, makes me wonder if the hurt, uncertainty and struggle I feel from this hysterical, retreating child is at all similar to the pain that those of unlike pigmentation felt (and possibly still feel) in the States. I'm not really willing to go there right now, but it defiantly makes me think, so I want you to think, too.
I also want to try to explain how there is a whole realm of how people live. First and foremost, most people seem pretty happy. Yes, it is true that they are without a lot (a lot, a lot), but they are happy. For some reason, happiness has always been high up on my important things in life, so I'm glad to witness happy people. Of course, I work within the health sector, so I also see not-so-happy people. I see people who are illiterate, walk up to 1/2 k to fetch clean drinking water (think about that the next time you flush your toilet), people who work SO hard Monday so their family will rice for supper on Wednesday-get the idea? But, please, don't think that because people are missing out on tons of luxuries we are accustomed to, that they are sad, poor, people. They are people who live in a developing world, where their culture and religion is of utmost importance, and brings a since of pride and happiness to their world. Yes, they could use money for schools and teachers, health care, transportation, infrastructure (my list could go on and on), but I am glad to witness that most people are fairly happy.
On a lighter note, I get mangos hand delivered to me by a naked 3 year old on almost a daily basis! My sister and the kids are going to Basse tomorrow (where I hear it fluctuates between 100-130 degrees on a daily basis) and I'm tagging along for the ride. I'm excited to see where she and her family stay, as well as see the rest of the country. Rest assured, I'll give a full report when I get back!
Work is good. I went to a workshop with some support group members this week. It was for Mutapola, a women's empowering movement for women support group members around the country living with HIV/AIDS. It took us 2 hours to get there on public transport, and 30 minutes to get home (we started walking to a car park and one of the members was recognized by a car passing by and gave us all a ride home!) The Home Based Care Volunteers also had their graduation ceremony last week. It was great to see them so eager and excited to get out there in the field and celebrate their hard work thus far. I also took a hot shower for the first time in 2 months and it was the best feeling in the world! One of my friends had to go home due to family reasons, so we helped her say goodbye by spending time with her at the PC hostel, which means hot showers and an oven that melts cheese on things.
Okay, there's a lot more I want to describe, but I'm hungry and I've been here for a long time.
I want to try to give some mental pictures of a few things that repeatedly stand out in my mind, especially in the areas of culture, race and religion. The end of this month will bring 5 months in country. To me, that signifies that one of my closest girlfriend's 2 week old baby is actually going to be 5 months old. It means I've seen the moon wax and wane (yes, dear Gambian child, the same one we have back in America)and the stars disappear and reappear under this bountiful, African sky, through a five-cylce period. It means 22 more months of service; which seems like quite a bit of time to dedicate to help improve the lively hood of the support group members, as well as exchanging cultural beliefs, but will probably fly by. It means 22 more months of not meeting friends back home at my favorite pub after an endorphin-filled-my eyelashes are going to hurt tomorrow-climbing session at the gym, playing fetch with the dog, or seeing that hyped-up summer flick. It means a pretty good chance at becoming near fluent in Mandinka, and if you are a believer in that saying "you are what you eat", look for the person in the airport 2 years from now that highly resembles a mango. It means a chance to teach my sis and her kids some English and how to read a little, as well as watch her youngest take his first steps.
Twenty-two more months will allow me to hear approximately 3,350 more prayer calls over the mosque loud speaker. I've come to find the entire process of Islamic prayer mesmerizing to watch, comforting to hear, and overall beautiful to live among. At first, I thought the idea of subjecting an entire country to the ways of Alla was disrupting so many church and state, not to mention noise violation laws, that a complaint box somewhere simply had to be overflowing by now. Wasn't there such a thing as separation between mosque and state?! Apparently not when more than 95% of the country's citizens claim the same religion, in this case Islam. Now, only 5 months later, I look past 22 months and wonder what it will be like not to live among one of the only constants that I can immediately put my finger on. Five times a day, corresponding with sunrises and sunsets (currently: 5:50am, 2pm, 5pm, 7:42pm, and 8:42pm), the Imam (prayer leader) flips the bull horn to the on position, mats are rolled out, shoes are removed and women's heads are covered with brightly designed scarves, and every practicing Muslim in Gambia faces east. From there, they start their eloquent series of Arabic versus while first bending from the hips, then knees, ankles and finally the neck. I am naive to the number of times and the significance to it all and I can't help but feel that my nervous glances towards and away the mesmerizing movements are somewhat legitimate; like the same feeling of uneasiness I would get from taking communion during mass where everyone knows I'm not Catholic. I'm encouraged more now than ever to seek out an English version of the Koran, as well as other religious texts, to add to my repertoire of the dozen of books I have a good chance of finishing by the end of our "3 month challenge".
Five months in country has also allowed me to whole-heartedly recognize that frightened look on a toddler's face as we nervously stroll towards each other, unsure of one an other's intentions so we stay away from sudden movements. Did I forget to take off my Halloween mask that I wear to bed every night? I'm guessing that's not the case. Am I the first person of unlike pigmentation they've come across or remember during their short life thus far on this giant earth? This, a more likely explanation, makes me wonder if the hurt, uncertainty and struggle I feel from this hysterical, retreating child is at all similar to the pain that those of unlike pigmentation felt (and possibly still feel) in the States. I'm not really willing to go there right now, but it defiantly makes me think, so I want you to think, too.
I also want to try to explain how there is a whole realm of how people live. First and foremost, most people seem pretty happy. Yes, it is true that they are without a lot (a lot, a lot), but they are happy. For some reason, happiness has always been high up on my important things in life, so I'm glad to witness happy people. Of course, I work within the health sector, so I also see not-so-happy people. I see people who are illiterate, walk up to 1/2 k to fetch clean drinking water (think about that the next time you flush your toilet), people who work SO hard Monday so their family will rice for supper on Wednesday-get the idea? But, please, don't think that because people are missing out on tons of luxuries we are accustomed to, that they are sad, poor, people. They are people who live in a developing world, where their culture and religion is of utmost importance, and brings a since of pride and happiness to their world. Yes, they could use money for schools and teachers, health care, transportation, infrastructure (my list could go on and on), but I am glad to witness that most people are fairly happy.
On a lighter note, I get mangos hand delivered to me by a naked 3 year old on almost a daily basis! My sister and the kids are going to Basse tomorrow (where I hear it fluctuates between 100-130 degrees on a daily basis) and I'm tagging along for the ride. I'm excited to see where she and her family stay, as well as see the rest of the country. Rest assured, I'll give a full report when I get back!
Work is good. I went to a workshop with some support group members this week. It was for Mutapola, a women's empowering movement for women support group members around the country living with HIV/AIDS. It took us 2 hours to get there on public transport, and 30 minutes to get home (we started walking to a car park and one of the members was recognized by a car passing by and gave us all a ride home!) The Home Based Care Volunteers also had their graduation ceremony last week. It was great to see them so eager and excited to get out there in the field and celebrate their hard work thus far. I also took a hot shower for the first time in 2 months and it was the best feeling in the world! One of my friends had to go home due to family reasons, so we helped her say goodbye by spending time with her at the PC hostel, which means hot showers and an oven that melts cheese on things.
Okay, there's a lot more I want to describe, but I'm hungry and I've been here for a long time.
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