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.