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.

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Check out some new pictures and the YouTube link I put up. It has some scenes from Gambia.

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)

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.

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.

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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.