Courting The Gambia

It’s So Hard to Say Goodbye...Maybe Because Mandinka Has No Literal Translation?

2009-03-29T08:26:00.004-05:00

Where do you begin when something so big is coming to an end? For the second time in my two year service, I’m once again asking myself this question. Ironically, the first one happen to be right after emerging from the bush upon the end of three months of intense language, culture, and technical training…

I won’t even begin to try to summarize my feelings about experiences during these past 27 months. Hopefully they’ve been somewhat appropriately expressed by the tone of individual archived blog posts. But I will say I am incredibly glad I joined the organization, incredibly happy I decided to stay the entire 27 months, despite multiple periods of doubts, and finally, incredibly relieved to be coming home. For some reason, memories of the first three months of training remain the most vivid, like biking that lonely 10k on a road so pot-holed that mountain biking became a bizarre phenomenon in a nation with absolutely no mountains, to the nearest town to attempt (NOTHING is certain in the country, I soon discovered) to phone home and get my sweet fix with a package of stale cookies. During those months, I frequently mentally projected myself further into the service, with uncertainty of how I would fair without being able to see loved ones for that much time. In the back of my mind, though, a friend’s voice resonated about taking it step by step and persevering through difficult times because brighter ones were bound to be just around the corner. So, keep on keepin’ on, I did, and that advice, along with a running regimen, achievements with the support group, afternoons with my host family and the cashew fruit, to name a few, helped me get to the very end of the service. It definitely doesn’t feel like it has been 15 months since the last time I’ve left the African continent and seen the faces of family and friends back home, but it does feel like a significant amount of time has passed. Although the time passed could have easily been 4 months, or 4 years. Months were irrelevant, possibly because of the 100% chance of sun 9 months out of the year, and when I received letters from home recounting events which included specific dates, I found it tremendously difficult to compare a personal frame of reference with regard to time and events here in Gambia.

Throughout the past month, I’ve been able to take advantage of work winding down and participate in a bit of the tourist scene (the difference being that breaking out my mad Mandinka skills instantly proved fecund, sometimes to the point where the line between traditional Gambian hospitality and profit-seeking entrepreneurs became blurred, in my favor). While the weeks began dwindling down and the mercury level once again rising, I found myself making lists. Among them, lists of souvenirs to purchase, lists of people to say goodbye to, and lists of places to visit. One weekend I killed two birds with one stone by riding out to visit my good friend and site mate near the beach, Mai, where I picked up a painting I had commissioned from a local artist a few weeks earlier. The next morning, after an enjoyable overnight visit, I rode on to Sanyang, the last beach village I had been meaning to bury my feet into. Even though I had forgotten my swim suit and book, it was one of the most enjoyable and laid back days I had experienced in while, thanks to the generous hospitality of the lodge staff and a couple of friendly folks on holiday. A few of weeks later, I ventured up country with Mai for the final time, with plans to visit an isolated park known as Baboon Islands, on the way to my final VSN meeting and event, and hopes to spot some Gambian wildlife that ISN’T chosen as sacrifice for Muslim ceremonies. And let me tell you, we were not disappointed! In an afternoon boat ride we became familiar with many of the park’s cared for chimpanzees, as well as multiple families of monkeys, a myriad species of birds, troupes of baboons and even two hosts of basking hippos.

Finally, the last couple of weeks have been spent visiting places and greeting faces around Brikama and Bafuloto one more time, as well as closing up shop with reports and appointments with Peace Corps. On March 19th, the first two friends from my own group, Amanda and Peter O, went back to the homepeople of “the land of the free.” It was a bit surreal seeing them off; more natural than I had anticipated, but an air of sullenness existed among the crowd from which I expected. Then, on March 20th, I spent the last night in Bafuloto, with two of my friends, Beth and Allison, during which we ambled around village, the two girls taking digital pictures with a camera, while I mentally burned additional images of my surroundings for the past year. Although the moon was just a sliver of a smile in the sky, the last bucket bath was refreshing and cool and as always, made me feel just like a new person. Then, just before bed, Ndey and Ardo (who stayed up past her bedtime helping to provide enough light with the torch lamp) preformed the process of staining my feet orange, with the traditional decorative art form of henna. Predictably unable to sleep, I rose with the crows the next morning and set out with my host mom to thank and receive prayers from the Alkalo and surrounding neighbors, which unleashed enough emotion that by the time the car came to pick me up, words and blessings were pretty much all that came out. This past week I’ve lived at the Peace Corps hostel in Fajara, in order to wrap up shop with meetings and appointments, but not with out the necessary beach time. I also went back to the GIG farm to say a proper goodbye, to which they responded with a small thank you ceremony that was completely unexpected. The very last night was spent with a handful of my very favorite people here in Gambia. Being a Saturday night, we went all out, starting at the traditional karaoke joint and ending by dancing our socks off (which is pretty easy here because everyone wears sandals and flip flops…)

What’s the next step? Allah only knows. For the time being though, I’ll be in Dallas trying to re-adjust to more choices from one grocery store that in the entire country of Gambia. I’ll be spending time visiting family and friends, which means catching up with you, so send me an email or Facebook message. I’ll have high speed Internet; something else to adjust to. cmgilman@gmail.com So, until then, fo watti doo, fo sila kotenke, fo natoo, until next trip...

Kaiyra dorong & kanoo
Peace only and love,

Mariama Camara
Courtney Gilman

Duel Identity

2009-02-24T07:21:00.002-06:00

Two years spent residing in a remote African village is just the right amount of time to cause someone to have an identity crisis. This I believe. Spend six months, and you’ve convinced yourself you have learned everything there is to know about the causes and even the solutions to the afflictions of the people with whom you are working. Make it a year, and you’re convinced everyone would be better off if you just went home. How much more homesickness can one person endure, anyway? Stay on for a whole other year, and something else entirely happens. I believe, at this point, just the right amount of time has elapsed in order to have an advance grasp of the local language and culture, but only enough to realize you can never become a native national. It is also just the right amount of time to recognize all the entertainment and technological advances that have taken place back home while you’ve been gone, and to begin not to mind about catching up on them. Confliction sets in.

Upon joining the United States Peace Corps two years ago, my group was advised to pack light; leave valuables at home, among those, our expectations. Perhaps the culture shock or lifestyle transition would be cushioned if we did. I wanted to follow that advice and tried to. Yet all I could think about upon introduction to my temporary three month training residence, a two room mud hut with pit latrine, and host parents who didn’t speak a lick of English was: how on Earth could anybody do this for two whole years?! Then, just as shock value began to wear off, we were ceremonially given our Muslim names, to which we were supposed to answer for the rest of our service. Looking back now, I am still not sure how I got through some of those really low periods, almost psychically predicted by our medical officer.

But I believe spending two years outside a comfort zone allows another one to be created. And when I think about saying the final goodbyes to my Gambian family, heartstrings I never even knew existed begin tugging and aching. Some of the most valuable friendships were acquired during this time, which in turn, led to the re-evaluation of some other relationships back home.

Despite the misconception that time hasn’t been suspended while I’ve been away, it’s hard to mentally ascertain the degree to which this revolving world and its people, have evolved. Internally, I can feel that I’ve grown as an individual, and even though a reflection is the closest someone will ever get to view their own self, mirrors can still be deceiving. With that said, I believe, in order to ultimately understand the degree to which I’ve personally progressed, it looks like I’ll simply have put my faith in others, and let them be the truest judge of my new identity.

22+2=Re-turn 2 Home

2009-02-13T15:41:00.002-06:00

The other day I was re-reading through some older posts with the idea that I would read one of them at our COS dinner. This one, in particular, stood out to me. The dinner setting wasn't conducive to a 5 minute reading, but I figured it might be interesting to re-visit a projection of the last 22 months, with less than two until official completion!

The following is a re-post:

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.

T'was the Season...

2009-02-03T19:56:00.000-06:00

Pick a season, any season, don’t tell me what it is. Do you have one in mind? Good, does it involve highs of a mere 90 degrees F and lows at night of bone-chilling 70 degrees F, thus causing all to don their second-hand African church clothes drive-Kathy Lee collection knit sweater? (I snagged one with toggles for five Dalasis, about the equivalent of twenty cents.) Is it one where the full moon hangs like a picture on the horizon, as large as a saucer and as yellow as a traffic light, as if to say “you’d better slow down and take this moment in; it’s not often one observes me under such cow-jumping caliber?” Does it happen to involve a façade of a certain Christian holiday, where the consumer reminders such as tinsel and carols are so subtle, it feels akin to being reminded of your birthday 30+ times on a seemingly ordinary day? Surprise! You’ve chosen season 1.5 of the Gambia’s two season year, also known as the cold season. If you’d happened to be a PCV during this time (more specifically one with the alias, Mariama Camara), these are a few other activities in which you may have participated…

About 24 full moons earlier, bright eyed, green and bushytailed, a plethora of handouts and sign ups were given to us. Among them was the monthly mail run participation sheet. Inscribing my name along side a partner’s, a place became held for a month that seemed so far away, Neil Armstrong would have felt it out of reach. I guess you could say the next 24 months were spent shooting for the moon, understanding that even if it was missed; landing among the stars was just as rewarding. And, just like that, my friend Sarah’s and my month to try our hand at the postal service for a week arrived. The next six days were spent in incredibly close proximity to each other and John The Driver (JTD) (literally three strong in the front of a Land-Cruiser-esq vehicle) with the entire back packed, organized strategically and neat, with some 80 volunteer’s packages and mail. Well, that is until JTD moved the gear out of park and drove the vehicle the 3k from the office to the hostel to pick us up at 5am. A less determined (or stubborn) person might have taken the 5am rolling push start, just like the public geles, as a sign, but Sarah and I had come this far, even generously granted the approval of an appeal to move mail run up a few days so as not to conflict with a visit from her mom and Christmas Eve. Stopping at each volunteers site, regardless if they were home (unless otherwise pre-arranged), we assumed the roles of Santa’s Little Helpers, complete with a rice bag full of grab-bag gifts and that finger fortune teller game you make out of paper and play as a kid. Each day we eventually made it to our slumber destination, but not without at least one solid inch-worth of caked on red dust and even more likely, a handful of entertaining events to relay to our gracious hosts… Like the day we got two flat tires slightly outside a village so far off the road that JTD’s first instinct was to start walk-rolling the tire 10k to the road, from which he’d need to catch a car to the nearest main town another 10k away in hopes of finding a mechanic. THEN make his way back to change the tire. Luckily, out of nowhere, and I do mean nowhere, a cement-hauling truck appeared and agreed to take him to the main road, thus only setting us back 3 1/2 hours… Or maybe the day we started having fuel pump problems on a dirt road to a village 35k from Basse. Thankfully, though, the real pump failure ensued on the main road on a Friday at 2pm (the holiest prayer day & time), when everything was closed, testing our patience while we waited two full hours to buy a two ounce tube of super glue, to be used as the car’s panacea. All and all though, the two year build up of this six day event will be recorded as one of the most memorable activities in Peach Corps, from which now I can say I’ve visited 85% of volunteer’s sites in Gambia, listened to the same Jola tribe tape approximately 13 times all the way through, climbed in and out of the car 30 times a day, ate 8 peanut butter sandwiches, became better (not worse) friends with Sarah and can thank my lucky stars I don’t have late onset car sickness.

Next came the “birthday” holiday, which was the first time I’d spent Christmas away from a close family. Like I mentioned before, though, if other people hadn’t reminded me, it would have come and gone just as silently as Santa’s sleigh on that holy night. The crowd at the Kombo hostel was small this year, as many had traveled elsewhere to celebrate. We compiled our local resources as well as those special occasion items sent from loved ones to create an intimate, but delicious Christmas Eve dinner, which even included wassail and mulled wine. The festivities continued, as they typically do when one year comes to an end and a new one begins. Even though Muslims aren’t known to celebrate the end of the month of December the way Christians usually recognize (they celebrate their new year a few weeks after), fireworks still exploded all throughout the Kombos, which I was able to observe, along with some of my favorite people in the Peace Corps, from a volunteer’s atypical dwelling of a roof-top apartment. A pre-firework pot luck, followed by dancing till nearly dawn was combination which resulted in one of the most exuberant and unforgettable New Years Eve in my life thus far.

And perhaps it’s because I force-fed everyone black-eyed-peas on January 1st (which apparently, unbeknown to me is NOT a nationwide American tradition; in fact I’m beginning to think it was just a genius, but cruel trick my parents and their friends played on us kids to eat something healthy), but 2009 has turned out to be pretty dandy so far. I began working at a farm called Gambia is Good (GIG), which is one of the projects under the NGO, Concern Universal. Their website can fill you in on the gaps, but basically GIG works with local farmers, introducing improved techniques learned from their “show” farm (where I go), then purchases their highest quality produce to distribute to the tourist and ex-patriot communities. I’m currently working with a couple of women on experimenting with processing some of the produce that cannot be distributed to those communities, including the local market. We made a local solar dryer out of suspended, doubled up mosquito net and placed one variety of tomatoes to dry for a couple of weeks. We then put another variety of tomatoes in a dryer made by the Solar Project The Gambia to do a basic comparison, with the end goal of jarring the tomatoes in an olive oil and spice recipe, to promote to those visiting the farm. We’ve also been trying out new recipes in the solar ovens made by the Solar Project. For some reason, I felt the desire to make a corn bread to bring to a VSN-sponsored pot luck I had coordinated for the volunteers in and around Brikama. I ended up having to buy whole kernel corn and take it to the milling section of the market because I couldn’t find corn flour, but I bought the rest of the ingredients, including sour milk, purchased from a Fula woman and biked to the farm; the entertaining voice of Ira Glass from This American Life leading me through my bi-weekly commute. At the farm, I mixed up the batter and added some sun dried tomatoes for an extra kick and let the sun once again do its amazing job of making things hot and after about two hours gave us a hearty loaf of sun-dried tomato corn bread.

Man, I can only imagine how high the Obama fever has risen in the States. I mean, if on an entirely different continent, market stationary shops are changing their names to “Obama Stationary” and the neighborhood village boys whistle and sing a new catchy reggae hit which consecutively repeats the name at least 5 times and the number one request from a host country national to Americans has shifted from cell phones to Obama paraphernalia, what the heck is it like over there?! The sentiment has indeed changed for the positive and it’s amazing to observe from this position, in this environment. A group of volunteers and Gambians got together at the local restaurant in Brikama with satellite news to watch the inauguration. I got chills listening to the speeches and left the restaurant holding my head a little higher and my skin a little more harassment repelling. Entering the Peace Corps, one of the last things on my mind was the election. But lately, the buzz among this country could pollinate a field full of flowers and I’m realizing in what a rare arrangement we volunteers abroad have found ourselves.

Last but not least, this past weekend 15 of us from the April 2007 Health and Community Development group went through our Close of Service (COS) conference. It was a three day conference at a more traditional lodge, but the rooms had hot showers and the food was incredibly delicious (and I don’t think it’s just because of the other diet I’ve been on for two years…) The whole weekend was a bit overwhelming, but in a good way! It was the last time we were all getting together as just our group and although I knew some of the friendships and memories I’d made were incomparable, I hadn’t realized to what degree. While making the decision to move to Bafuloto and stay in the Gambia for another year was one of the most difficult I’ve ever made, discovering I’ll be completing my 27-month Peace Corps service has proved to be one of the most rewarding. COS is designed to give you the tools and resources you need to help complete a successful service as well as transition into a life afterward, whether it is back in the States or internationally. We participated in session after session, discussing everything from resume writing and completing a professional description of service paper, to signing up for adult things like health insurance, to how not to be that volunteer who loses it because there’s so many options at the grocery store (I’m buying mint scented shampoo and conditioner-hopefully knowing that much at least will save me there…), to how to say goodbyes to host families as well as PCVs and the importance of staying in touch. So, now we’re all officially COSers. Two years is a long time. You all said it to me before I left, I’ve been reminded by many while I’ve been in the Gambia and most of my friends here completely agree when we say it to each other. But these last two months will go at it’s own pace, and just like a free donkey cart pick up to the main road, I’ll gladly go along for the ride…

See you guys soon (later)!

Love,
Courtney

Tracey & Sarah's project: Check it 2 time!!

2009-01-23T11:49:00.004-06:00

Hey guys!! Long time, I know...

The following is from a couple of my friends' blog, detailing one of their current projects. So take a minute to read it and see if this is something you think you might like to help out with.

"HELP AFRICA

As many of you know, I work at Bansang Hospital, a rural,underfunded hospital about 10 hours by bush taxi from the capital inGambia, West Africa. Blood supply is a chronic problem--causing the deaths of many new mothers and their babies. The hospital is runningon a B.Y.O.D. (Bring Your Own Donor) system which, as you can imagine,is not effective. We have begun a program of trekking to nearbyvillages and registering people as donors. We have also begun a blooddonation club at the local high school. Once we saw that we couldactually get blood for storage we decided we needed to do somethingabout the blood bank and storage facilities. With the help of two other volunteers and with the staff of the hospital we have decided to build a basicblood bank facility, complete with a 24 hour fridge. We are seekingdonations to cover about 75% of the cost and the hospital will providethe other 25%. Donations of any size are highly welcome. If you wouldlike to donate or find out more please visit the Peace Corps websiteand click on "donors" - "donate to volunteer projects" or click on

this link:https://www.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=resources.donors.contribute.projDetail&projdesc=635-056

Thanks for taking the time to read about our project. Please sendthis email on to anyone you think may be interested in helping andremember, by donating you are saving babies :-)"

I hope everyone is well. I'm working on a post, so will be updating soon. In the mean time, I hope everyone enjoyed the inauguration and the holidays.

Love and miss you,
Courtney

Take In Directly

2008-12-04T04:11:00.003-06:00

Despite the tumultuous travel we endured, the trip to Mali was indeed magnificent. Hiking through the cliffs of Dogon country alone made the hours on the road worth it. Well, almost… It reminded me of the Mesa Verde dwellings, creating a sense of the southwest, all the way over in West Africa that sent me longing to share the beauty of these lines with my climbing comrades. No doubt they would have shared the same clammy hands and jittery feeling I seem to get just thinking about climbing.

It’s that time of year again when it’s hard for me to relate to those back home in terms of weather and holidays. I distinctly remember writing the Thanksgiving blog post last year; stating something like the 90 degree won’t let me wrap my mind around the fact that this Thursday is Thanksgiving. This year, though, it’s easier to grasp that soon we’ll be entering a new year. Most probably, though, because with the new year, comes the commencement of the analogical new chapter of my life. The end of April is only 5 months away, but the beginning of a life I’m not sure I remember, or perhaps more correctly, a life I’ve never known, is still 5 whole months away.

Regardless, the past couple of months have rolled on and I’m sure the next 5 will travel in the same fashion, collecting enough speed on the way and barely allowing for the documentation of memories. But I have a moment now, so I’ll use it to back track on the months you all call fall and that I have come to know as hot, just a little less than before. Most devastatingly, my grandmother, the matriarch and 80 year old human power tool of the compound, had a stroke right before I left for Mali, in September. When I left, she was bed ridden, as the stroke affected the left side of her body, including, it appeared, her speech. I left, uttering goodbyes as if they were as permanent as the affects of the stroke, just in case… She didn’t look good. I called as soon as I got back to Basse, preparing myself for the worst, but received news she was getting better. Still, in Mandinka and other indigenous tribes, the phrase “getting better” could mean anything from a full recovery to hanging on the last breath. However, I was pleasantly surprised to see in person, that she actually appeared to be getting better. Before I went away, I had arranged with someone from Hands on Care, the NGO I worked with my first year, to make a home visit to try to begin physical therapy. By the time I returned home, it looked like she had started gaining strength to display the mobility left in her left leg, she was feeding herself and swallowing with less trouble than before, sitting up on her own and her voice was becoming more audible. Little by little, we are practicing standing. She’ll probably never be tending the fields again like she once was, but every now and again, the kindhearted disciplinarian of the under five peanut gallery will flash me a toothless smile that goes straight to my heart.

Well, shoot dang folks, we’ve got a new president elect! Who’s excited about that bit of news? I’ll go ahead and declare that I’m right there with most of my American friends, and Gambian friends and even strangers in this “forgotten corner of the world” that can’t wait to see what the other side of this new leaf looks like under the administration of Mr. Obama. It was a unique experience to be abroad during this entire process. I can’t even imagine what kind of election stimulus overload all of you guys experienced this past year. My nightly tune-ins on the shortwave with BBC and month old Newsweeks were about the extent of the media buzz I received. On election day, however, we PCVs were invited to share a little slice of Americana in the form of a generous Embassy employee’s home, which included pizza & tortilla chips, hot water, cold drinks, comfortable couches to curl up on and satellite TV. We donned the few pieces of Obama paraphernalia that had either been sent or brought over or hand made (mainly in the form of bumper stickers) and prepared ourselves for the first purposeful all-nighter since Professor Hard-Ass’ final exam, starting with the most important viewing, “The Daily Show” and “Colbert Report”.

Hmm, what else… The newest, and last training group to come into country while my group is still around got here right after the elections. It’s a combination training of Environment as well as Health and Community Development (my sector) because of all these budget cuts we’ve been hearing about but are not sure where they are stemming from and who’s cutting one of the most successful and well regarded government instituted programs. I could go on and on about the changes that have been suggested and ones that have been implemented, but I’ll just say this: I’m currently reading The Village Of Waiting by George Packer, which eerily comparably describes his experience as a PCV in Togo in the early 80s, except for his $200 a month stipend and motorbike. Please, Mr. Obama, please pay attention to us PCVs again who are working in the fields, crossing cultural barriers on our bicycles, not motorbikes, and who get excited about tortilla chips and hot water, all for $175 a month in 2008. Anyway, the group started their training bright-eyed and motivated and I got to help present a session about emotional health during training as the VSN coordinator because most of us have experienced a bushy tail gone wiry at least once, while over here. They swear in January 14th, with my Health and Community Development ’09 sector’s close of service (COS) conference just a couple weeks behind. Speaking of VSN, Western Region held our first sponsored event, which consisted of a tour of a magnificent eco-lodge only about 2k from Bafuloto. I knew of its presence since my predecessor pointed out signs during 3 month challenge, but never had I fully explored to see what existed beyond the wooden gates. Fortunately, my friend Rachel had not only crossed the threshold of the gates, but she had befriended the owners whom have casually worked on and off with Peace Corps Volunteers since the culture forest was built, 17 years ago. A tour of the manicured overgrown bush and traditional wooden paddle boat ride left those of us who attended the event relaxed and yearning to make a habit of venturing into the calming quarters.

I hope everyone’s Thanksgiving was filled with full bellies and cornucopias of grace. Ours felt more like a really extravagant Fourth of July backyard BBQ cookout, but I’m confident that those wearing wrap skirts even had to re-tie and loosen them. There was soooo much food! The Thanksgiving weekend also allowed for the scheduling of the bi-annual all volunteer meeting, including individual sector meetings, as well as an evening of opportunity to present one’s nose whistling, song writing or picture taking talent at the 2nd official Open Mic-Night at one of the favorite and frequented bars in the more touristy area. I personally searched long and hard to get tap shoes made, but alas settled on reading the Mali transport terror story.

Well I think that about does it for the time being. It’s getting close to the end, but I’m sure there will be enough time to write home again about new work developments and frustrating market moments. Oh! Guess what’s all the rage among school aged and young women: ballerina style jelly sandals! I’ve got my pair and if you want to be hip like me when I come home, let me know and I’ll get you a pair as well.

Pictures have been posted to the Picasa site, so check 'em out :)
Love you all and miss you dearly.
Courtney

HEY! HEYYYYY!!!! _ YOU! Mind your own _ing business!

2008-11-29T09:11:00.004-06:00

Hi there! Long time, eh? The following is a little story about one of our days in Mali. It's a bit humanly uncharacteristic, as you'll read, but unfortunately not situationally. There will be more to come about what's been going on the past couple of months in the near future, but for now, enjoy a bit from This West African Life...

Oh, and hello to Charlie and Jackie all the way over in K-town. I enjoyed meeting the O-bros and I know they were taken care of very well while over here. :)

Love,

Courtney

HEY! HEYYYYY!!!! _____ YOU! Mind your own _____ing business!

I really want to punch him in the face right now!!!! My friend, Ellie, yelled emphatically, after spouting off a serious of censorious words to our 6ft 5 Malian gele apparantee. I’ll do it!, was my apparent response, after feelings of anger and lack of control of the situation came over me. In reality, I pictured my fist making contact with this man’s face. In reality, I attempted to make contact with his face, but he dodged. In reality, I made contact with his chest, then felt the need to kick him in the butt. What brings two passive, yoga practicing, save-the-world, peace & love Peace Corps volunteers to act as if they’re proving their rank in prison? One word: travel. West African public transport travel to be more specific. Thus, I’ll take you on a little journey that would have inspired a completely opposite type of train to ride if Cat Stevens were with us.

Once upon a time, three kind hearted and patient female PCVs just wanted to get back to Gambia without too much trouble after an adventurous and culture-filled visit to magnanimous Mali. P squared (aka the word transporter in French), Lil’ Pimp (our ticket to great bargains and cheep rides) and McGellan (who needs a compass when you’re in a Muslim country?), as they became known to each other, awoke diligently at 5am from their food comas- or rather they were awoken by their gurgling bellies, thanks to a bizarre, yet generously exquisite dinner consisting of food their stomachs hadn’t digested in over a year and a half, with 2 Austrian diplomats, followed by a night of Bamako’s finest live music and dancing (which is a whole other story more fit to be shared over additional fine dining). Despite frequent trips to the toilet, they managed to pack all their belongings and souvenirs and make it to the bus station with more than enough time to spare (especially with the new departure time of “1 hour later”), to catch the buss that would carry them in comfort, more than 2/3 of the way back to the home people. Between continual payments of 50, the 3 took turns watching bags and searching for green tea strangely packaged in animal print instead of the familiar “gun powder”, to quench the thirst of the obligatory family trip gift. Then, during a routine toilet trip, McGellan noticed the tail end of a bus snake around the corner and out of site. Frantically whipping her head around to locate the bus once situated soundly in its sleeping spot, confirmed her worst possible fear at that exact possible moment: the comfy bus set to carry them 2/3 of the way home had just left the building, without 3 of its biggest fans. Well, they only practically had to kick and scream their way onto the next overbooked bus that wasn’t nearly going as far, although they were assigned isle seats. No, not that one. The isle, bidong optional. 7 hours later, the 3 tuckered travelers reached their destination, where several extremely accommodating host country PCVs delivered the Worlds Greatest Combination: running water showers, clean sheets and a bed net. Taking a moment to exhale the days travel turbulence, they settle into a slumber dreaming about quickly filled geles and road side icees, but not before indulging in a rare tasty treat in the form of Nutella. Now, you’d think one would learn their lesson about ingesting foods outside the “white” food group, especially while traveling. But a honey bee rarely passes a bated hive and for the 2nd morning in a row, it wasn’t the 5am mosque call that summoned McGellan to the porcelain hive.

A little authors observation: I think you really have to be an optimist if you want to remain somewhat sane while traveling in Sub-Saharan, and by optimist, I mean one who is ignorant of foreshadowing, because if I had believed diarrhea at 5am was a prelude of what was to come; if I’d realized the least frustrating part of the day had already been flushed down the toilet, you’d be hearing about a Gambian PCV who went AWOL in Mali instead of this short story.

Anyway, P squared, Lil’ Pimp and McGellan finally set off late morning only to turn directly around in the taxi upon realization of forgetting probably the most important travel item: a frozen Nalgene bottle. Okay! Now we’re off to the car park! Wait, why are we slowing down to a stop, their furrowed brows non verbally communicated to one another. Once the driver filled the taxi back up with gas, they made it those 10k to the care park no problem. Once at the car park, they assiduously paid the ticket dude and promptly began their wait for the gele to fill. Then, after about 45 min, they realized they were waiting directly on the main road, so decided to test their luck in flagging down a moving car. Success in flagging down a big rig, ultimately led to the dialogue at the beginning of the story, at which the gele apparante told our big rig ride to leave us there on the road because we were already on HIS gele, even though we had already paid and willing to forfeit our tickets for the ride with the big rig, who we'd also need to pay. It was none of his ____ing business... Accepting defeat, they took to grieving in their own ways until the cursed gele was ready to roll. There was barely enough time to get wind blown hair when the back left tire, itself, blew, resulting in about a 45 min tire changing session. Back on the road again, it only took a few k for the 2nd and 3rd tires they had fixed on the same axle to become rubber road kill. It was time once again to wait.. Well, they don’t call her Lil’ Pimp for nothin’ and soon her golden finger was hailing and stopping out next ride: a car from the railroad company, whose gas and driver were both paid for, thus the agreed payment to take us as far as the gele was planning, was going straight in the pocket. Finally, 4 cars (including an ever so persistent border taxi dude) and approximately 4 hours later, they had crossed into Wolof Wonderland. Surprisingly swift, they boarded the equivalent of a Senegalese Ragin Party Gele that told them they’d be taken to the point at which they were to be dropped by the comfy bus. However, looks can be deceiving and nothing is ever the way it appears, especially when you’re being driven by the Mad Hatter. About 2 hours before dusk, the RPG rolled into a dusty, desolate car park. It was soon apparent this was not the anticipated final destination of the gele’s passengers, but it definitely was for the gele. Blood was beyond the boiling point, but it does not good to lose your cool, as the 3 had experienced earlier in the day. Nonetheless, nerves were wound and as the sun was setting over the savanna that seemed a little too unfamiliar, even to McGellan. At the prospect of spending the night somewhere an unknown number of kilometers away from their goal sleeping spot, they pulled each other up, like buckets of water from the darkest well and continued to take matters into their own hands. After flagging down yet another big rig, P squared turned on the translation charm and convinced the saintly driver that there was indeed room for 3 grown women and their 3 small children-sized backpacks, in the crammed space of 3 wool blankets. On the road once again, just as the sun passed behind the clouds, the 18 wheeler rolled passed a mile marker denoting that the RPG had stranded its passengers 115k from their destination. Finally, a total of 24 butt-seat prints and 10 excruciatingly long and frustrating hours later, P squared, Lil’ Pimp and McGellan arrived at their last temporary place of slumber, a mere 300k from where they began their day.

Well, we made it as far as Dogon Country...

2008-10-27T11:37:00.002-05:00

I'm back from Mali and heading back to village today. We had an amazing time and came back with lots of good stories, which I'll have to share with you next time I come to town. In the mean time, I've uploaded some pictures to the Picasso site so look at those when you get a chance :)

Don't forget to vote! Miss and love you guys.

Love, Court

Ever thought you'd actually go to Timbukto?

2008-09-22T09:13:00.003-05:00

Hey out there. Just a quick update to let you guys know I got approval to go to Mali for a couple of weeks. My friends Ellie, Blair and I are planning to leave at the end of September and come back mid October. Mali was one of the places that I'd envisioned seeing before I left west Africa, so I'm super stoked it looks like it's going to work out. We plan on hitting up Bamako, the captial for a couple of nights to try to catch some music, then on to Dogon coutnry, where the Dogons reside in cliff dwellings, after fleeing from their lands along the Niger around the 15th century, not wanting to convert to Islam. From there we may go to Hombori where there is supposed to be a grand rock formation and I'm hoping to get info from PCVs in the area to do some climbing. Fingers crossed, but not holding my breath. We're going to try to either get in a camel ride, a boat ride up the Niger or observe some elephant tracking, or all of the above, depending on time. I'm sure I'll have tons of stories, many of which will probably revolve around the actual transport and traveling... Pictures to come hopefully as well. For now I'll leave you with this one of me and Ellie (one of the friends I'll be traveling with) at the Education swear in a couple of weeks ago.

More From Living in the Land of Babies on Backs and Balencing Acts

2008-09-06T13:37:00.003-05:00

Well hello to you all again! It’s been a long time since I’ve updated this thing so I’m not really sure how to begin this entry and it might be all over the place. But my fellow PCVs continually joke maybe that’s just what happens to someone who has lived among West African indigenous tribes for what’s going on 19 months; we’re all over the place with not really any place to go, but a little crazy.
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First of all, I just want to thank everyone for all the birthday wishes and love through cards, emails, messages, hugs, food, drink, good company, etc. For some reason, I was happily accepting of 26 and at the same time eager to discard 25. Looking back, last year, I feel like I tried to mask that quarter of a century milestone in the form of streamers and traditional American party fare. This year turned out to be an embracing of moments taking place at present. A handful of friends from the new environment group, as well as a few from my own group came into town for a volunteer resiliency training the week before my birthday (more of which I’ll write about later), so I organized a quaint potluck picnic to watch the sun set at the mud cliffs that over look the ocean. On the actual day, my friend Ellie and I began our 150k bike ride on the unpaved south bank road from Brikama to Tendaba Bird Camp, the ol’ training stomping grounds to help out with some Health Promotion session with the new education trainees. We decided to make the ride over two days, stopping after about 5 hours of riding and spending the night with a volunteer from our group in the village of Bwiam. He was hosting a couple of his other site mates and we cooked an amazing meal of garlic and butter shrimp scampi pasta with veggies and a stir-fried cookie for dessert. The next day we rode for about 3 hours, both days resting during the rain storms that conveniently commenced at the same time as our fatigue. It was really cool to arrive to the training camp once again, on bike with Ellie, but from the completely opposite end of the country, over a year later, as I vividly remember the time that I rode to her training village, and then on to Tendaba from the east side of the country.

See, I’m already getting a little ahead of myself. Since you’ve last peered through the virtual scope into the days of this stranger in a strange land, several of my fellow strangers who gradually became anything but, have closed the Gambia door of their lives. Better analogized, the door more closely resembles the revolving type, but what I’m getting at is all of a sudden I was at the point in service for the first time where people I considered sounding boards and good friends would soon be leaving. Regardless of whether they are anticipated close of service volunteers, friends attached to aide organizations, or the third member of your training village group, you get used to checking in on each other with a text and catching up over a tepid Julbrew. I couldn’t have predicted how their departures would affect me, but I think one of Gambia’s most beloved music artists, Celine Dion, says it all best in her hit song “It’s Hard to Say Goodbye”. After their imminent return to the States resonated with me for a bit, I started to see a silver lining: never before had I a pen pal who 100% understood what it is like to wait 3 hours for a gele gele to fill, making a 150K journey last 6 hours. I’d never had that complete empathy from someone for trying to hack up that fish bone stuck in your throat from lunch 2 days ago, or that utter understanding of the exact location of the best bean sandwich lady in the market and how sitting outside with your host family at the end of evening, counting stars, seems to make everything on the planet alright again and just a little simpler. Of course there’s been a few times where I wanted to pick up my mobile and text them about something, and I miss to see their faces around town, but I’m also pretty sure they’re glad to have someone with compassion on this end as well when immediately diving into a chicken and rice dinner with their right hand causes questionable stares from those at the table.

After a year of hangin’ on Gambia’s lower west side, I decided it was time once again to make the journey to the other end of the country. The plan was to travel with my friend who lives past Basse, the largest town to the east, stopping at a different friend’s site every night or two along the way. On the second day at the first stop I came down with a fever, body aches, chest pain, and loose stools, of which many of those viral symptoms remained for the duration of the trip. At any rate, we were able to see the new Basse transit house and ran into a few other volunteers there, then I made my way back, stopping in Bansang, where a couple of friends work and stay at the teaching hospital, confirming my diagnosis of dengue fever. Just kidding. I got better in a few days.

The rest of August was disguised as a magician because it performed a disappearing act right before my very eyes. Over the past few months, I’ve helped in the coordination of bringing the once defunct, PC program, the Volunteer Support Network (VSN) back to life. As more organization became involved, I found myself in the coordinator’s position. The VSN is a group of volunteers serving as regional members around the country, organized to help volunteers keep a healthy perspective on service. The idea is that volunteers can feel comfortable going to their regional member, or any member, to discuss anything involving PC service, from counterpart frustration to homesickness tactics to helping organize a hut painting party; all in confidence, in a non-judgmental, non-discriminatory manor. A resiliency training was held at the beginning of August by a social worker in the Office of Special Services from PC Washington and I encountered a nostalgic feeling of being back in grad school for two days. It’s also been nice to feel like I’m putting that knowledge gained from school to use once again for the American community in addition to the past year and a half of serving the Gambian one.

I guess that brings us to the bike ride to Tendaba from Brikama. The purpose for the trek was to serve as VSN representation for the current training group. We helped lead health promotion sessions including topics on emotional and mental health, sexual health and alcohol. This is the first training group to completely go through the newly revised training program, with certain core competencies being recognized and later tested. Fellow volunteer involvement in helping lead training sessions has always applied but seems even more integral with the revised plan.

In Bafuloto, I’ve been occupied with continued nutritional talks, with the promotion of Moringa Olifera and most recently the introduction of the mosquito cream repellent made from the local Neem tree leaf, although I’ve run into a customary problem of continually rescheduling the actual demonstration with my host family. But I’m hopeful and pretty sure it’s not for a lack of interest. On the contrary, we’re in the smack dap middle of an incredibly fecund rainy season, lending to daily work in the rice and crop fields, which will undoubtedly give yield to help offset the end of the government rice subsidies and hopefully reduce a notch in the belt of food crisis, if only small small. I even harvested my first okra! Coincidently, some of the rains have been near torrential, reminding me of those incredible Oklahoma winds and summer storms. The most recent of which completely destroyed my millet-stalked backyard fence, destroying a few of my most prized young Moringa saplings and providing for a purely exposed pee-peep show if I had dare tried to use the pit latrine before arranging for it to be fixed.

The Muslim holy month of Ramadan, characterized by fasting from after the first prayer call in the morning to after the first evening prayer call, also began last Tuesday (September 2nd). I am not entirely familiar with the significance behind the holy month, thus decided against participating, but I know that unless you are pregnant, elderly, extremely ill, a child, a menstruating woman or your work involves extremely arduous labor, no food or water is supposed to pass your lips during the hours when the sun is out, as well as abstaining from smoking and sex. Some even consider swallowing one’s own spit a violation of the fast and once an ill person is better or a woman’s menstruation ends, they are required to make up the days after the said month. Even though tempers become shortened and bodies faster fatigued, most people carry on with their daily duties and there becomes an overwhelming communal since when the family all sits down together to break fast by feeding their famished faces with the traditional bread and tea.

Some upcoming activities:
* New education group swears in September 12th
* Possible trip to Mali with a couple of friends at the end of the month for a few weeks
*End of Ramadan sacrifices
* Combination of new environment group as well as our health and community development successors arrive at the beginning of November!!!!

Books I’ve enjoyed recently:
*The Kite Runner, Khaled Hosseini
*The Good Earth, Pearl Buck
*Continually reading Roots, Alex Haley
*Siddhartha, Herman Hess
*Under the Banner of Heaven, Jon Krakauer

Would like to read:
*The Unaccustomed Earth, Jhumpa Lahiri
*What Is The What?, David Eggers
*Spanish language self teaching work books

New music artists (well, to me) I’m totally into at the moment: Handsome Furs, Wolf Parade, Calexico, Panda Bear, American Analogue Set, Jose Gonzales, BonIvr

Wish List: This pretty much hasn’t changed since arriving in Gambia…
*Dried fruit and trail mixes
*Starburst, gummy candy, Tootsie Rolls, fruity candy
*Tuna packets
*Good coffee grounds (I have access to a reusable filter)
*Jane/ Marie Claire/ climbing magazines
*Books that have touched you that you’d like to pass on
*Movies new out of DVD
*Music on DVDs in Mp3 format

I’m also starting to think of things I’d like to do, places I’d like to go and eventually where I’d like to live directly after COSing, at the end of April. If you have suggestions, or know people who might, let me know! Tentatively I’m planning on visiting Morocco for a couple of weeks then participating in an organic farming exchange program in Spain for a few, then travel there a bit more before flying back to the States. I’d love a travel buddy for some of the time, so if this sounds like something you’d like to do, too, let’s make it happen!!

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

2008-06-29T12:24:00.003-05:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Love,
Court

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

2008-06-20T17:00:00.000-05:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Love, Court

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

And I've uploaded more pictures.

2008-04-26T12:50:00.003-05:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

Roscoe's favorite season

2008-04-01T09:14:00.008-05:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Okay, stop procrastinating and go do your taxes!

I love you!! Courtney

Link for Info for Visiting Added

2008-03-11T07:57:00.003-05:00

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

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

2008-03-05T07:03:00.004-06:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Love,
Courtney

updated smells

2008-02-12T09:10:00.000-06:00

I forgot two:

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

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

Christmas in what felt like July; Tobaski again in February?

2008-02-09T03:33:00.000-06:00

One morning a couple of weeks ago, I was aroused from a dream I was having by the sound of a baaing sheep. Now, a herd of baaing goats passing by, outside the compound is completely normal. But the sound of one, slightly distressed sheep, inside the compound is extremely rare. I remember thinking groggily something like, "why wont someone just shoo the sheep outside the compound?" Then I even questioned if it really was a sheep or was I just hearing the sound of my own slumber?! Soon, I drifted back asleep, the noise actually being what helped lull me (or maybe I just counted to the number one over and over again, ha!) Well, I was having this dream that I had lost my little camera and I was SO mad at myself for losing it because I guess I thought I hadn't uploaded any of the photos I'd been taking this past year. They were all as good as completely gone as far as I was concerned and that made me extremely angry at myself So when I found myself waking up for the send time, my first though was relief at realizing my camera was in my bag right next to the bed. I stumbled sleepily from out under my bed net and walked to the front door, instead of the bathroom for some reason, and saw immediately the reason I had been able to drift back to sleep and stay that way for a few more hours: two of my neighbors were in the process of skinning the reason, which took the form of a slaughtered sheep. Next thing I did? Run back inside to locate (with reminded relief) my camera to take pictures!

Last weekend I felt the urge to get out of town, so I called my friend who lives in a village about midway through the country on the north side of the river. I was excited about seeing her new site and spending the weekend with some friends who live more of the lifestyle to which we were first introduced. I've heard transport horror stories, so I tried to mentally prepare for what may be in store for the day, keeping in mind that patience needed to be the virtue most practiced. The trip to her village, near the town of Kaur, is probably no more than 200k (including the ferry crossing) from Brikama. I packed some food, my book and fully charged MP3 player geared with "This American Life", just in case. The following is an actual timeline of my journey:

9am: Leave from Brikama car park in a gele for Banjul in a Coastal Road car (they take a longer route, but stop less frequently).

10:15am: Drop from gele and take taxi to ferry terminal.

11:15am: Board ferry after getting pushed and shoved from "no lines in Gambia", where EVERYONE would benefit from a ticket and boarding line.

12:15pm: Arrive in Barra, across the river and find a gele going past her village, in order to drop accordingly.

1:30pm: Actually start the engine after waiting for the car to fill.

1:40pm: Stop for gas.

2:10pm: Stop for prayers; work on squeaky wheel.

3:00pm: Stop for this.

3:20pm: Stop for that.

4:14pm: Stop in a town about an hour away from my drop for food and an hour and a half of squeaky wheel work/ 5pm prayers.

6:45pm: Arrive in village!!! Greeted with a name sign by friends.

Man, that was a long day! Glad I geared up with plenty of patience and patriotism. Hanging in the village was refreshing and therapeutic for all 4 or us, as we reflected on the past year while projecting on the next. And the trip home was much quicker, as the luck of gele transport in Gambia presents itself.

It's crazy how our senses have the ability to evoke the most buried memories, creating a whirlwind of emotions, either leaving us feeling complete and nostalgic, or just completely wrecked. Touching a piece of satin reminds me instantly of my childhood blankie that I probably carried around way too long. Tasting a spoonful of Haagen-Dazs Coffee ice cream reminds me of afternoons at my Meme's house (even though she was a Rum Raisin fan). Listening to ANY Don William's song, no matter where in the world I am, will always remind me of the four of us driving to Beavers Bend State Park (gotta love the dysfunctional car rides :)). Even the subtlest glance toward a rock face or mountain, picture form or real, makes my hands get just a little clammier than they already were. But it's the sense of smell that has the most profound effect; does the most damage. You know what I'm talking about... You're standing at a crosswalk, furrowing your brow as your eyes follow that chic walking in the highest heals you've ever seen, when suddenly, you catch a whiff of what you place to be Play Dough. Now, you're back in elementary school re-living the time your diorama, entitled "Creatures Under the Sea", took 3rd in the annual 5th grade diorama contest. Or maybe you find yourself in the Chicago 'O Hare airport, next to a trashcan emitting sweet coffee fumes... Oh yeah, life BEFORE Nescafe.

Anyway, I guess the smell thing is so potent, it sometimes reminds us of things and places even when we're already there. Or perhaps it's the smelling them for the first time after not smelling them because the smells are just that unique to a place that brings some sort of comfort. What I'm getting at is that there are certain smells I didn't realized I had related to Gambia until I left, went to The States, thus not smelling them for a while, then coming back. So I want to take this opportunity to share some of the smells of this tiny country, I have come to recognize on a daily basis. Got your sinuses cleared? No matter, after this, they will be.

Good Smells:
1. Women frying fish heads in oil on neighborhood corners in the evenings.
2. This incense they burn in the little clay pots.
3. Just the burning firewood for daily cooking.
4. Babies lathered in shae butter.
5. Cashew fruit orchards.
6. General WA body odor "musk"

Not So Good Smells:
1. Grass/ donkey poop burning
2. Fishing ports

Hope you enjoyed a little updated tour of the Gambia, as seen through they eyes of an "old" PCV now. The new trainees came on Thursday and tonight is the get together at the "Come INN" where everyone gets to meet each other.

Miss you guys tons, just like usual. I uploaded a few pics. Thanks for the emails, letters and packages. They sure do help make and keep me happy!

Love, Courtney

Where the Pavement Ends

2008-01-30T10:20:00.000-06:00

Wowy Zowy, one whole year in The Gambia as a PCV (on the first of Feb, that is)!!!! If I were trying to go to a university, I’d be able to get in-state tuition or something. Where has the time run off to? My whole concept of time has changed since joining the Peace Corps in Gambia. For one, school semesters seem really short. Can you really cram all that knowledge in a 3 month period? Guess so; it sure did feel like enough at the time. Two weeks vacation for a whole year? What the heck can you do and where can you go with that? I can blink my eyes here and two weeks will have passed. I’m ruined from ever working within a traditional American working time scheme. When we first learned about the differences in the concept of time here, I thought there’d be no way I’d be able to adjust, given my personality and type-A habits. But slowly slowly, I’ve become adjusted to this polychronic pace of life, and frankly, I sort of enjoy it. Things still manage to be accomplished and people in general seem to be in pretty high spirits. I’d be interested in reading a comparative study on burnout or depression between the two types of work environments.

I’m back in the swing of things and have adjusted to my schedule in Gambia better than I expected. But I suppose spending 10 months in one place will help you in that area. Over the course of a few days, I distributed my sila fando to the families in my compound, my 10 Sisters Kafoo and a few folks at Allatentu. I had printed a bunch of photos and those, by far, were the favorites. It appears that with the gift of a thousand words, the language of the picture translates universally. I wish I had printed even more.

Allatentu is keeping me busy, as usual. We’re rounding up the Accelerated Funds Grant so we’re working on compiling a final report and budget to send to them detailing the programs carried out and the ways it help improve the Center and its members. We’re discussing areas from which to re-program funds, such as extending monthly support meetings and doing another round of tie and dye, to make sure the funds are successfully and appropriately spent. The Jalibah fundraising concert, the big, pink elephant in the room, has once again been re-scheduled for March 16th. Hives have been placed and are starting to be colonized on the farm land, as according to the beekeeping calendar, so they can expect a first harvest in March, if all goes well. We’ll be compiling info for another grant as soon as the report is submitted. One thing at a time seems to be the philosophy that works best around here.

The new trainees arrive Feb 7th, to replace those COSing in April, that that will be fun to meet the new crowd and possibly help with their training a bit.

Mid Feb is the annual softball tournament between West African PC country volunteers, known as WAIST. So a bunch of us signed up to be on competitive or non-competitive teams and will bottleneck our way north, like a bunch of Plink-O chips clinking their way to the $10,000 slot, to the bustling metropolitan known as Dakar, Senegal. I’m excited to compare it to little, ol Banjul and see what kind of development has taken place in a larger developing West African country. I hear there are pastry bakeries and even an Ethiopian restaurant.

I hosted a little dinner party with some site mates last weekend. It was nice to play that role again and use that time to pick each other’s minds about future plans and ever changing ideas on how to live ones life; especially with the influence of experiencing certain things since joining an organization like Peace Corps. I made a 3 bean sort of stew from beans and spices from care packages and salsa from veggies in the market. Others brought wine and juice and my belated b-day present from a good friend, full of homemade chocolate chip cookies couldn’t have arrived at a more opportune time. Everyone gobbled them up. Thanks, girl!

I’ve been running quite a bit lately and breaking that up with some bike rides. The other day I biked all the way to “where the sidewalk ends”. Well, to where the pavement ends and the dusty pot-holed part of the South bank road begins. I passed some magnificent mahogany trees sheltering villager’s garden plots and the whole site was breathtaking; humbling me to realize how small we humans are in this land, yet what a proportionally large role we play in contributing positively and negatively to it all

I finally managed to weed my little flower bed last weekend. It always seems to be a spectacle for the neighborhood kids and I was quickly surrounded by a bunch confused why I was uprooting the corn?! Corn? I hadn’t planted any before I left for the States. Wild flowers, yes. Corn, no. I was uprooting the flower that hadn’t flowered yet, I said. Now, I was pulling up the corn that you can eat, they said. I had to admit, it did look like corn, not wild flowers at all. So I stopped and that appeased everyone. Turns out some kids threw some corn kernels and seeds over the fence of what now appears to be a little neighborhood garden (given the whole tomato stint and all). I’m fine with that. I even pulled up a “weed” that turned out to be a carrot, so I tried to pretend like I hadn’t disturbed it by sticking it right back in the earth. My moringa, on the other hand, has yet to take in the pots (since my host mom thinks they’ll turn into big trees, which after 20 years, they will. Man, they’re some ugly knobbly-looking trees, too. She won’t let me plant them close to the house). I need to ask for more seeds from the Ag-fo APCD, and perhaps even poly pot a few flowers I’ve got my eyes on from around the neighborhood.

A newly updated wish list (though not much has really changed):

*Letters
*MP3 music and books CDs (I’ve finally figured out how to upload the stuff on my own using one of the volunteer comps here)
*DVDs with movies and episodes of Office starting with season 3 and Greys season 4
*Veggie and flower seeds
*Skittles, Starbursts, Laffy Taffy (finally after a whole year, I’m less interested in the M&Is)
*Tootsie rolls (original and fruity flavored)
*Twix, Kit Kat and 100 Grand
*Dried fruit mixes
*Turkey Jerky
*Triscuits, Wheat Thins and other salty snack foods

It's a small world afterall

2008-01-16T09:33:00.000-06:00

What do you get when you cross a jet-lagged lady with a word processing machine without the Internet? The first blog entry in over 2 months…

So, I’m back in The Gambia after about 24 hours of traveling. It’s been worse. I was actually dreading the sight of Terminal B at Brussels International Airport like PCVs dread the Bumsters at the height of the tourist season (which is in the present). But the entire place was so crowded with lines like I’d never seen and my layover wasn’t that long, that I barely had enough time to contemplate spending 2 Euros on a coffee before I found myself head bobbing for some zzzs on the last leg of my flight. Something was shining down on me that evening because what normally would have been a huge hassle and unnecessarily expensive taxi ride back to the Peace Corps hostel turned into a Kodak moment of a reunion between a fellow PCV and her generous parents, with whom I shared the public transport. I can’t thank you all enough!! It’s been a pretty good first couple of days (granted I haven’t really left the hostel) but other fellow PCVs from my group are staying here for various reasons and it feels comforting to be welcomed with such enthusiasm (and share my suitcase full of American food) with people who were complete strangers about a year ago.

First of all, though, I want to take a few sentences to thank the folks who made it all possible, in more than one way if you really want to get into it. (It all may sound a little cliché or like I’m writing an acceptance speech or something, but bear with me because it’s polite and I mean it). I just wanted to thank you again, Mom, Dad and Lydia for providing me with unconditional love and support throughout this past year and really for my entire life. I’m not sure if I’d be able to carry out this “adventure” without it. I can only hope that I am providing the same to you all, as well.

It feels a little strange to try to re-cap the experience in the States (after all, you guys are pretty familiar with that culture), but I guess it might be a little entertaining to describe a few instances that stand out in my mind, from the point of view of someone who hasn’t gotten behind the wheel or worn socks in about a year.

Event #1- Chicago O’Hare International Airport:

I guess I’m not sure if it was the shock of seeing an actual trash can that came all the way up to my hip (with trash inside), or the surprisingly sweet aroma of coffee (that I later realized was actually wafting from within the trash can), but I found myself standing next to it for the duration of the time I waited to board the last leg of my flight to DFW. All of a sudden a “thump” from the can awoke me from my stimuli-overload reverie. When I casually glanced inside, I realized that the girl sitting closest to it, who was waiting to board the plane at the next gate, had thrown away about $6 of glossy-bound paper, known to you as maybe entertainment trash (probably in more than one way), but to me as my next in-flight reading material. Yep, as soon as she got up to board her flight, I did the ol’ shifty-eyed quick glance around and pulled out the brand new, completely un-affected by spilled coffee, women’s magazine that gave me new color-schemed decorating ideas, winter fashion faux pas and up-to-date tips on scoring a seat at the hippest club, not to mention the guy at the bar! Man! What would I have done with out all that advice?!

Event #2- Surprise visit to my sister’s graduation; Universal Studios, Disney World:

I think this one pretty much explains itself. My advice? Try to avoid 200 feet renditions of King Kong after living in West Africa.

But truly, she was completely surprised to see me (she thought I’d be in Dallas when she and the parents came back from her graduation a few days later) and I was really proud to see her in her element and all she’d accomplished over the past few years. She’s been so supportive of my endeavors, it was one of the few things I could have done; to watch her cross that stage to take her next step to the wide open options with which this world presents.

Event #3- Meeting my best girl-friend’s son as a toddler:

I got to see momma at her work, but the little guy was already in bed when I eventually made it to their place to settle in for the night. The sight of toys scattered neatly in a corner and colorful foam letters plastered to the side of the bath tub threw me off as I brushed my teeth and got ready for bed alone in a house previously associated with evenings of movie entertainment and tasty mixed drinks (which after staying there most of the duration of my time in Norman, I can say those associations will remain, with the addition of a little live entertainment as well J). The next morning, I woke to sounds of father and son sharing precious morning time learning how to stack blocks, but probably learning more about each other in the process. When I saw Mr. Man for the first time again, I had to compose myself quickly so as not to frighten the two them. The last thing I wanted was for this kid to meet this crazy crying lady. All of a sudden I was imagining two of us wailing instead of just one, most likely confusing all parties invloved, poor dad. Composed semi-successfully, the three of us returned big plastic letters to the farm house through corresponding plastic letter cut-outs and pulled apart big Legos known to me from my childhood as Duplos until it was time for him to go play with kids his own age.

Event #4- Hanging with the Moose:

The dog was pretty much attached at my hip the whole time. I was afraid he wouldn’t remember me, but after that first run, we were back on track, taking commands from each other and fighting for space in the bed. We went to Arkansas on a climbing trip for a long weekend and played Frisbee almost every day.

I was browsing in the local record store in Norman towards the end of my visit and could have sworn the artist throw out the name “Roscoe”. I didn’t think anything of it then and I wasn’t even convinced that I heard correctly. Then, on my car ride to Dallas; just the two of us, I was playing an MP3 CD my friend randomly threw together and that song came on, except I couldn’t place where I’d heard it previously. But the rental car I was driving was so fancy; it even displayed the title of the songs being played, which confirmed what I thought I had heard the first time in the record store. It was absurdly appropriate. THEN, I was flipping through my MP3 player, which my other friend had uploaded new artist on, and guess which album appeared? Roscoe was destined to travel with me back to Gambia, if only through lyrics of a song and many cute photos. He was one of the hardest to say goodbye to (literally and figuratively), as he kept avoiding my hugs at the airport.

I’m really happy that I got to see so many of your faces and spend time at the local spots I’ve reminisced about since leaving. It was neat to observe that, although time has passed and things and people have changed, those changes still allow for old friends to re-connect, while sort of challenging the time elapsed. It also allows for widening your circle and letting new people and ideas in, which I am truly grateful for. As long as both people are up for the challenge, good people will probably remain in your life for a long time.

P.S. I've been uploading pics over the last month, so there may be some new ones...

"Eat My Dust", and Other Gambian Hungry Season Nutritional Supplements

2007-11-21T13:30:00.000-06:00

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!

Did it rain sand last night? You could have fooled me Mr. November.

2007-10-29T06:51:00.000-05:00

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...

2007-10-08T08:25:00.000-05:00

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've 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.

toubabgimmetoothbrush

2007-09-05T06:44:00.000-05:00

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.

Birthdays and Brushes

2007-08-23T07:39:00.000-05:00

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!

E Ning Barra

2007-08-13T09:46:00.000-05:00

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).

Sparkles, Saints and Soda

2007-08-07T08:21:00.001-05:00

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.

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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!

Brikama, Sweet Brikama

2007-07-23T08:53:00.000-05:00

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?

2007-07-18T07:29:00.001-05:00

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...

2007-07-12T08:00:00.002-05:00

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.

Birthday Wish List/ Pictures Posted

2007-06-29T06:40:00.001-05:00

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!

Choose Your Own Adventure

2007-06-21T08:27:00.000-05:00

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.

Culture Dictionary

2007-06-15T06:24:00.000-05:00

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...

Paint By Numbers

2007-06-13T09:16:00.000-05:00

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.

Miss Toubab Brikama (new pictures are posted)

2007-05-29T06:30:00.000-05:00

Suffering from low self-esteem? Questioning your self worth? There's no need for expensive therapy sessions or complex drug cocktails. Simply hop on the next plane to suburban Gambia, change your name to Mariama Camera and take a long afternoon stroll on the South Bank road as school is letting out for the day. Okay, so maybe your insurance won't cover this sort of program yet, but as soon as I get in touch with Dr. Phil, you can bet it will be an option.

So as it goes, the other day I went over to Rachel's to take a look at her bike and just chat a little. I ended up leaving her house to walk back to mine around the same time that I typically go on an early evening run. Since my running route is on the main road towards her direction, I ran into many of the same folks I would if I were running. However, since I was sans the MP3 player and running shoes, it was more appropriate to greet those who greeted me (and who probably always "greet" me or strain to get my attention as I pass them in a hurry). I was somewhat surprised and a little flattered at how many people noticed and commented that "Today you are tired? Today you do not run?" Maybe it had something to do with the very near arrival of the Miss Black USA Pageant, but I couldn't help comparing myself to the contestants, as I walked down the runway that was the South Bank road. All of a sudden, my hand took a mind of it's own and began to elegantly wave, turning from side to side, as some children shouted my familiar, unfamiliar name (along with the occasional "toubab", but they didn't get waves. Instead, they were politely corrected in Mandinka with a Burt's Bees induced smile, that my name was not toubab, but Mariama!) . It was a little piece of Gambia that could have easily gotten under my skin, but actually turned out to be a bit therapeutic in the end.

The first rain came on Sunday, May 20th at 8:30am. I wasn't quite awake, but stirring in my bed and was actually quite startled by the whole incident. I guess that's what happens when you've never heard rain flood from West African skies onto a corrugated tin-roof before. My first instinct was to jump out of bed and immediately check for leaks. Fortunately, there doesn't appear to be any. The rain fell hard for a good 5 minutes, then steadied to a drizzle before completely stopping. The whole thing lasted maybe 9 minutes and happened twice in the morning. It was still enough rain to flood the market and side streets and give me a little preview for what it will be like when the steady rains come in a few weeks. In the end, I was still able to get my bed sheets washed and dried, despite the looming clouds and 100% humidity.

In other activities, I went with some members of ASK to a candlelight march for people affected by HIV, that kicked off the Global Week of Action. It was neat to participate in a familiar activity of a walk, which makes me realize that no matter where you are in the world, there are people who want to raise awareness and are willing and strong enough to organize such events. It has also been decided that 75% of my time will be devoted to ASK and 25% to HBC. I originally had the impression that it might be the other way around, but ASK was complaining that HBC had "stolen" their PCV, so after a few meetings, it is agreed that Tuesdays will be spent with HBC, alternating with the OVC (orphaned and vulnerable children feeding program) or staff meeting. The other days, I will check with ASK first, then report to the clinic if help isn't needed that day. Sr. Christine also said that I could volunteer care for an HBC patient when I felt ready to take one on.

ASK had a board meeting last Sunday. I left the meeting feeling that it was some what productive. As low as the membership seems to be these days, they still want to keep plugging along. They have so many ideas (almost too many for the amount of man power they need to carry through with the ideas), including what to do with this land the Alkalo signed over to them in a near by village, marketing strategies for the stack of cassettes sitting in the office gathering dust, and how to arrange a successful Brikama launching that is now scheduled for July 20th (but was suggested to be moved again because by then the rains will have for sure come).

I also rode my by bike to the beach with a fellow PCV last weekend. It took us about an hour and a half to get there, but there wasn't a soul around and we sat under the shade provided for us by a small tourist resort. I've decided not to attend the Miss Black USA, but to spend funds on a Gele ride to Basse with Kaddy and the kids instead. I still can't tell when she is wanting to head out there, but I'm thinking it will next week some time. I can't really think of anything else new right now, so I'll close. Oh, did I mention that my plumbing is still turned off? The plumber showed up at my house a few days ago, so I'm taking it as a good sign that it might only be another week before the shower knob is fixed.

The Book List

2007-05-22T04:33:00.000-05:00

Any one up for sending some books this way? Mom, I already own "The Bell Jar", if you feel like digging it out of one of the boxes I crammed in your garage. The list is sequential, so the sooner "White Teeth" is on that air mail plane, the better!

* White Teeth, Smith
* Ender's Game, Card
* Cat's Cradle, Vonnegut
* Midnight's Children, Rushdie
* Light in August, Faulkner
* Remains of the Day, Ishiguro
* The Bell Jar, Plath
* Jitterbug Perfume, Robbins
* Atonement, McEwan

I've already exhausted my personal Internet allowance for the week, but next week I hope to get some photos posted. Can't wait to hear from you all soon!

Of course I've thougt of a few more things to add to the wish list

2007-05-21T10:14:00.000-05:00

* Simple children's English language books with pictures
* Child size toothbrushes and tubes of toothpaste
* Any extra baby/child clothes you might have lying around the house
* Books from my Norman summer book club reading list (The list has yet to be completed, but if you want to send one book, please make a comment, so that I don't end up with 10 copies of the same "Babysitter's Club" books.)

And yes, despite my desperate plea for Burt's Bees chap stick, I am down to two tubes (of which I brought with me). Perhaps everyone thinks that someone else will send these, low-priced, low-weight, small tubes of joy.

Internet, Schminternet

2007-05-15T08:28:00.000-05:00

So, getting homesick really bites. I felt it last week a little too much for my comfort. I'm not exactly sure what brought it on, but I think it might have had something to do with trying to keep up with the world around me (including all you folks back home whom I miss) by spending a little too much time on the Internet.

I'm still on the HBC portion of my rotation, where we visit patients in the mornings. This schedule tends to leave my afternoons free to check in at the HOC office to see if help can be used, which inevitably leads to checking my email and other familiar websites.

I feel really fortunate that I have access to instantly share my experiences, humilities and photos with people who may be interested. I think it is extremely important for all parties involved well-being. I also feel really fortunate to be able to use the Internet as a tool for research for improving the quality of life for those with whom I work. But as I discovered last week, it also allows for a direct link into the lives of those who know me the best, from a world that doesn't even know me by my given, American name.

At any rate, one long, music-filled bike ride down the Brikama Coastal Highway, talks with a few familiar voices from The States, and an evening under a cloudy sky hacking Mandinka with my sis and her kiddos later, I'm on my way out of the slump. I'm working on limiting my Internet use to a couple of times a week instead of several (it's more exciting when you have more than one email to read each time, anyway).

During the bike ride, a song came on my MP3 player with lyrics about being in a thankless job an it resonated with me. That's one place I know for sure where I am not. Even if it's not vocalized by anyone, it is felt- maybe through a young women's greeting handshake, an old man's toothless grin, and definitely in a child's embrace. There are days when I feel like everything is surprising and then there are days where nothing surprises me. But I guess that's just life in suburban Gambia!

In work-related news, I'm really enjoying the Home Based Care rotation. It is difficult at times to walk into a compound and know in the back of your mind that that one child probably won't gain enough strength back to live a very long life. I asked Sister what she thinks contributes to being that far gone so early in life. She mentioned the difficulty of getting to the clinic, stigmatization of going and getting tested, and often mis-diagnosis as a few reasons. The main causes of mortality in Gambia for children under the age of 5 are Malaria, diarrhea and TB. If they are eventually found positive for TB, it may be recommend to go for HIV testing. If they are found positive for HIV, they must finish their TB treatment before any type of ARVS are administered. On a more positive note, most of the patients we see in their homes are not that ill, or have improved through the help of the home visits and volunteers. It is amazing to watch the Sisters tend to these people. There is no hesitation what so ever to give someone a cloth bath or clip some toenails, when the primary purpose is a simple 10 minute med distribution visit. During some visits, I must have heard the words "abaraka", "jarama" or "jere-jeff" which all mean thank you, 20 times or more. But really, it's the patients who are helping themselves. They are the ones who've built up the strength, emotionally and physically, to get themselves or their loved ones to be seen by a licenced doctor (as opposed to a traditional herbalist healer like many see here). They are the ones who chose to register their family members in these programs the clinic offers. We, as health workers, are simply catalysts. Sure, the education we bring is important, but at the end of the day, it's the individual who decides what type of life they want to lead.

In other news- team Kaiaf re-unites! One of my training village mates, Chris and some other volunteers from up country had some business in the Kombo area, so he biked over the course of 3 days to Rachel and my neck of the woods. We've been hanging out together the past few days remembering the good 'ol (and not so good 'ol) times of not-so far back training. It definitely doesn't feel like a month's gone by already, though. Also, Miss Black USA is coming to the Kombo area on June 1st (specifically Senegambia Beach Hotel) and a group of us are trying to get tickets and go. Should we each make signs for our respective states? UH, you'd better believe it!

Thank you to everyone who supported Allatentu by buying a CD!!!! I hope you are really enjoying listening to it. The original order has completely been spoken for and all your donations have officially been contributed to the group. My mom has 5 more CDs that were recently sent to her if anyone else was contemplating getting one. Her email again is gillag@ticnet.com.

Finally, at the request from a few of you, here is a newly updated wish list.

Newly Updated Wish-List:

Burts Bees Chapstick-regular, stick kind
Jane or Marie Claire Magazines
Pocket size Kleenex packages
An English Dictionary
A scientific calculator
A cutting board
Trail mix, salty snack foods like Triscuts, dried soup mixes, dried fruit, Extra brand gum, Cliff bars, any kind of candy
Soccer ball needle
DVDs of Greys Anatomy, The Office, new movies (these can be watched at our PC hostel and volunteers lap-tops during times like in-service training and out of site days)

I'm expecting some of you to start asking about travel arrangements to The Gambia soon...

Some comparisons (and more pictures posted)

2007-05-04T05:39:00.000-05:00

I think it's about time to do a post with comparisons. I know I haven't been here that long yet, but there are already a few things I'm coming to terms with (not in any particular order and I know there's more, but this is what I've come up with so far).

Things that I have found beautiful:

1. The way the sun sets behind the orchards of mango and palm trees while Muslim men, in their long cloaks, prayer beads in tow, ride past me on their cruisers on their way to the dusk prayer.

2. Listening to Gambians greet each other, almost competition-like, with the same cycle of greetings every single time.

3. The older women's faces, as they pass me on their way home from a long work day at the market; baskets graciously balanced on their heads, perhaps a baby wrapped on their backs. Decades of working their fingers to the bone has made its way to the face.

4. My family. They're patient (no doubt I've interrupted countless important conversations just to declare the act I'm currently doing-"I'm de-boning fish, right?"), kind and including, yet they give me space when I need it. It doesn't hurt that I can steal hugs any time I want from Ebrima, whose outstretched arms appear in front of me daily. (I found out by going to the Maternal and Child Health Clinic today with my sis that he turns 3 next month.)

5. Discovering new edible fruits, like the cashew fruit and tomburango (don't know the English name). And having a better idea in general about where the food that I'm eating comes from, especially the meat.

Things that will probably never stop being frustrating:

1. Being shouted at with any of the following terms: toubab, boss lady, nice lady, champion woman, sunkuto (which means girl), muso (which means woman), and the hissing that everyone does to get your attention. (I've tried to come up with some sort of come back, like calling the children "dindingolu" which means, children- but it doesn't have the same affect and it's really not that satisfying.)

2. I'm still a clean freak. Can't get over it, it seems. However, the dog hair obsession has been replaced by the the endless sand and dust. (At least the hair comes with some sort of loyal company.)

3. Mosquitoes. And it's not even rainy season.

4. The Nalgene-equivalent of oil used to prepare one meal (okay, I know a Nalgene is one liter and I'm exaggerating a bit) and the gazillion bones in that one, tiny, fish. I sure was spoiled from eating Captain What's His Face from the freezer section.

5. Walking through the bustling car park on my way to the clinic. The next person who asks if I'm going to Serra Kunda is going to regret it (maybe you won't get a greeting from me or something)!!!!!!

Something I'm working on:

Learning to be more patient. With the "in shalla" (God willing) attitude and practice of many Gambians, meetings start hours later, appointments are often not kept and the overall pace of business is painfully slow to me. Thankfully, Peace Corps does a pretty good job on giving one a heads up about this during training and I've had about 3 months to adjust. However, every day is a challenge, a balance between reminding myself I'm working with these people on their terms (not for them) and not compromising certain standards that we, as Americans, have been taught to respect throughout the years.

In other news, the two week rotation with Allatentu has come to an end. We've worked on writing letters for sponsorship for the launching later this month, secured land for a garden in a near by town (I think), distributed another round of soap for income generation, and tried to hold a few meetings to get all this stuff discussed-but not enough people showed up to have them. Monday starts a two week rotation with HBC. Sister Christine told me to be there at 8:30, but to bring a book. Saturday I'm going to a program put on by GAMCOTRAP, an organization dedicated to stopping FGC (female genital cutting). I found out about it through a public notice while watching TV (strange) with the fam a few nights ago. Tuesday I'm scheduled to go to band practice for the Allatentu Support Band. I have an idea on how to promote the music in the States and want them to help me write a letter, but it's in a village I've never been to before, so we'll see how adventurous I'm feeling.

Some more pictures are posted, so click on the "personal photographs" link and look at them.

IYOO

2007-04-30T10:44:00.000-05:00

Iyoo... pretty much my response to everything these days. It means "okay" in Mandinka. I'm in Kombo for the day, just picking up funds for the next few weeks, med supplies, groceries, and stuffing my face with the pizza that I've been craving for over a week (weird what foods you crave when reading Fried Green Tomatoes alone, at night, in Africa-okay, not really, of course I'm craving pizza, it has been 3 months since I've had any).

I attended a board meeting for Allatentu yesterday. It consisted of myself, the VP and the chairwoman. It started 45 minutes after it should have because the VP had the key to the office and was late. Basically, we decided that since most of the support group members have gone to and are still in the President's treatment program, it will be hard to launch the CD by May 21st. It was decided that another meeting should take place to finalize whether or not the launching should be moved. I'll keep you updated. So now I know what meetings are like. They start late, and there is a good chance not much will be resolved by the end. Slowly, slowly, I have to remind myself.

On another fun note, some kid threw a stone at me yesterday. I was taking a late afternoon walk with my headphones on and had the music just low enough to hear the sound of a stone about the size of a baseball land at my feet. I just stopped in my tracks, amazed that it just happened. I look around to find the culprit and he just motioned for me to go. When I just stood there, he gave a few crude gestures and I motioned for him to go. I ended up just walking off because I got the feeling that if I just stood around, things could escalate. They didn't, but it still bummed me out the rest of the evening. I know it wasn't me in particular that he was trying to insult-just a foreigner in general.

Things are moving along, though and I'm still having a good time and learning even more. I'm going to try to plant some plants this week in the flower bed around my house. I'll try to make it a family affair, with my brother because I'll need to borrow the wheel barrow to collect manure, grass, leaves and other stuff because I'm not sure how well things grow in just the sand.

I think that's all for now. If you want to send me some candy like Starburst and Mike and Ikes, I'll write you a letter. Also, my mom has the CDs Allatentu made. If you want one for $10, send your address to her at gillag@ticnet.com

So are the days...

2007-04-26T10:42:00.000-05:00

I have a slightly better understanding of how I will fill my time during the next few weeks. I met with the HOC program coordinator and we decided it would benefit me to spend the next 6 weeks on a sort of rotation. In addition to working with Allatentu, they also want me to work with the Home Based Care (HBC) program. HBC works with chronically ill patients by attending to them at their residence. One doesn't have to be HIV postitive to enroll in the HBC program. Illnesses such as cancer and TB are also seen so not as to disclose a person's HIV status. There are two German Nuns who run this program so I will be working closely with them. They have both been working in the Gambia for about 20 years. So these next 2 weeks, I'm exclusively on the Allatentu rotation. I'll be helping them get ready for the cassette launching in Brikama on the 21st. We also made soap yesterday as an income genterating project and I'll spend time getting to know the members of the group. After that, I'll be on the HBC rotation and learn about what exactly goes on there. After that, I'll do a clinic rotation for 2 weeks. Hopefully I'll be able to sit in on some intakes, attend to patients in the ward and help distribute medications and non-perishable foods.

At the same time, my house is slowly coming a long. The mosquito screens are finally installed and I at last have a bathroom door! A bed was delivered to me on the most recent mail run and my cement floors have been painted. This Saturday, I'm throwing a painting party and inviting people from the clinic and Allatentu, as well as near by fellow PCVs (and of course my family). I am finally coming to terms with the fact that I'm going to be living more of a "western" style life in Africa. I guess it's appropriate, as I have more of a "western" style job (I get weekends off). Yet, I am still listening to a goat cry outside this internet cafe right this moment and most of the time I still can't understand what people are saying to eachother. I still feel that everything is hunky dorey one minute and that if one more kid yells toubab at me the next minute that I will completely lose it.

I helped my family cook lunch today. We made these fish balls in an oil, onion and tomato sauce. With rice of course. My 2 year old brother continues to tug at my heart daily. Today he helped his 3 month old brother learn how to sit. The family calls him and ant becuase he is always on the go. Most of the time I'm in bed way before he is. I'm looking forward to watching him celebrate a few birthdays while I'm here.

Sorry about any spelling errors. I have 2 minutes left at the cafe. I miss you guys.

I'm star struck!

2007-04-21T05:54:00.000-05:00

This is the Hands On Care Clinic at the Brikama hospital.

So maybe some of you have heard of this famous Gambian Kora player
named Jaliba Kuyateh? He's kind of a big deal. He's played in Austin
and just got back for a tour in the UK. http://home3.inet.tele.dk/mcamara/jalibaku.html

I met him today. Just walked into his compound with 2 of my support
group members because they had a meeting set up with him. Turns out
he lives just down the street from me in Brikama. Needless to say, I
don't think I'll be moving houses after all. (Well actually, I decided
that I will stay in this house before I met him, but it adds to the
story). Did I mention that Allatentu released an HIV de-sensitization
CD last month? Well, they did and I'm sending 10 CDs to my mom and
they are for sale for 10 dollars or how ever much you want to
contribute to them. The money raised goes straight back to the group,
40% to the actual group and 60% to Fatou Seesay, the singer in the
band because she and her husband wrote the songs.

Anyway, if you want to buy one, ask my mom about them. So Allatentu
set up this meeting with Jaliba because they want to have a benefit
concert with him and be his opening act. He agreed pretty much just
like that, and the concert is going to be on May 21st here in Brikama.
Now, the next few weeks will be devoted to advertising, organizing a
location and possibly making t-shirts to sell. Also, there is talk of
wanting to produce another album, so I'm hoping to be involved with
that (maybe even do a little back up singing-which will encourage me
to speed up the Mandinka learning!!)

Some days are more Gambian than others, and today is definitely one of
them. I went with 2 members of the group to look at a plot of land to
start a garden for income generation, via public transport, and of
course, it broke down. We sat in the steaming gele-gele for about an
hour, while the driver and his entourage tried to fix something (rumor
had it was the breaks). The cheeky passenger women immediately
started comprising songs about hoping to find a peaceful road not too
far away, and as soon as I mentioned that my last name was Camera, two
women turned around announcing that I was their daughter, then another
woman, who has a joking relationship with the Cameras (her name is
Seesay), told us all that we ate too much. Joking with last names is
a big hit around here and it is always appropriate to say someone eats
too much. Then, once we got to the town where the land was, the
Alkalo (village head) asked if we could come back next Friday because
he didn't have time to show us the land after all that day, which is
also typical of Gambians. So next Friday, we are making the trek
again, this time hopefully with an old man driver (not a young boy like
we had today) because I learned that old men drivers look out for the
road and think of their families and young boy drivers, well, don't.

More Pictures

2007-04-17T06:58:00.000-05:00

More pictures are posted from swearing in. I was also in the middle of typing another entry when the computer crashed, so I'll just briefly update.

I'm trying to figure out what to do with my house exactly. I honestly feel that it is too big, so I may start to ask around work to see if anyone knows of an available house more fit for PC living. At any rate, I've been spending these past few days trying to accumulate "stuff" on my PC salary. It feels sort of strange purchasing home furnishings, when the entire month before I left, I was working on significantly downsizing my material items. However, at the same time, it feels somewhat legitimate to me to be contributing to this economy and supporting local businesses. I have even re thought starting my own garden (not that I have a yard for it anyhow) because I live so close to the market and the women work hard in their own gardens to generate income for their families.

This week I'm going to re introduce myself to Hands on Care and Alletentou and start learning names and establishing relationships. Wednesday I'm scheduled to take my malaria medication. Sunday, I have a birthday party to go to. Looks like I have a busy week ahead of me. Send me letters! I miss you guys.

It's official

2007-04-13T13:27:00.000-05:00

A trainee, I am no longer. Today, on this haunting day of Friday, the 13th, we were sworn in as Peace Corps Volunteers. The ceremony was at the US Ambassador to The Gambia's house and I now know what I want to be when I grow up (especially if I get to live in a house and overlook a view such as the one I attended today). Several of us dressed in traditional Gambian attire (pictures to be uploaded soon), and a spread of food so decadent was prepared that I had the same feeling as I often do when eating a Thanksgiving dinner. The best part is that we even have leftovers to devour when the mood strikes.

These past few days, I have been making routine trips to the bank, the large market, PC office for administrative purposes, the grocery store and of course, the beach. It is a bit overwhelming to think of and try to purchase home furnishings on a limited budget and from a market where prices are never to be agreed upon at first breath.

It hasn't quite hit me yet that come Sunday, we are free to begin Peace Corps work. For a lot, that means spending lots of time trying to plan and come up with projects from the ground up. This period of service is known as "three month challenge", where you are encouraged to spend every night at your site for the next three months. It is supposed to be a time to gather needs assessment-type information about your village or community, in order to plan projects for the upcoming months. You are encouraged to spend a few hours each day out in the community, introducing yourself to your village and village heads, such as traditional birth attendants, village development committee chairmans, community health nurses, in order to start establishing valuable relationships. I will start showing my face at Hands on Care and Alletentou a few days a week, as well as begin working towards making Camera Kunda my home away from home.

Pics are posted!

2007-04-08T04:13:00.000-05:00

Look at them!

Movie Series

2007-04-07T10:15:00.000-05:00

So, it's really hard to describe 3 months of training in a few blog posts, but I'll try to do my best. Right now I'm back in the capital area, staying at the PC hostel until next Sunday (which means I have free Internet access, so send some emails this way and you won't have to wait a month for a response!) Friday, April 13th, we officially swear in as Peace Corps Volunteers. I've been holding on to my PC patch that my recruiter sent to me in the mail what seems like ages ago and come Friday, I'm going to sew it on my Costa Rica tote sack that is my excuse for a purse.

It seems appropriate to try to describe my experience sort of like a movie series. Right now I'm watching (or starring in rather) "culture shock part III" Don't be frightened by the title, it's a really good movie so far, and has an awesome soundtrack with lots of Yo La Tengo, some Velvet Underground, Niko Case, Dr. Dog, Camera Obsucra, Air during the yoga scenes and even Yes finds its way in sometimes. But this isn't one of those movies that releases the prequel years later, so I'll start with part I.

Part I- Training Village
The first 2 weeks of training were some what like an extended day camp. We had back to back training sessions, then started integrating language sessions in slowly. We were nervous to walk outside our living quarters, leery of what was on the other side of the brick walls. Some of us stayed up late, having dance parties with our mp3 players and first round of AA batteried speakers. Some woke up early and even practiced yoga or went on runs. I went to the beach a few times and thought paying D80 for 4 oranges was normal (about $3) (at the market they are D5 each, I later found out). Looking back, when I first got here, I didn't feel overwhelmed. Thing were pretty structured and I'm a pretty structured person, so it was easy to go with the flow and take things as they came. We had set meals 3x a day and were served "American-type food" and got our own plates and cutlery. We had field trips- one in particular to the Sera Kunda Market, a huge market in the Kombo area. That was the day my left foot got run over by the front right tire of a taxi cab trying to fit down one of the tiny market roads going about 5 miles and hour. Luckily, I had changed out of my chacos in to my keens, which probably saved my foot. (I need to write Keen to see if I can be a celeb in their next commercial or something). My foot was only bruised. I could immediately walk on it, but still immediately was taken to the PC health clinic a few kilos away. Two days later I was running on it. I am only just mentioning it now because it sounds like something horrible, but really wasn't and it hasn't bothered me since that week.

We were divided into training groups and placed in training villages. Kaiaf, a larger Mandinka village in the Kiang region was home for about 6 weeks. During the first week, I felt my first series of overwhelming experiences. Even though I tried to put expectations aside, I was still questioning whether I could live in such a foreign land for 2 years- how did people do it I wondered. I worked with these feelings by taking it a day at a time, going on runs (luckily I was placed with another runner), doing yoga in the middle of the heat of the day in my hut all by myself, going to language classes all morning and working on tons of school-type assignments that PC gave to us called TDAs (training directed assignments) that consisted of dipping bed nets with our families, putting on skits and coming up with plans on how we could introduce hygiene to our eventual permanent sites. Training was broken up by a few different trips to Tendaba Camp, a sort of resort place known for bird watching, that had a pool and cold drinks. It was a nice break from village life and a fun way to meet back up with people to see how their training was going. But at the same time, it was session after session of new information, which was overwhelming in and of itself. I ended up moving families mid way through because I was placed in a teacher renter's compound with a very traditional Gambian father. I felt uncomfortable around the family a lot, like I was actually in their way, so I requested a change. My new family was much more jovial (my father sold mintees, or candy-how appropriate, huh?), there were 3 wives and older children that went to school and I enjoyed all of their company. Most nights, after a run and a bucket bath, I would sit out on their bantaba with my language note book and they would watch me write and help me speak. I was starting to see how one could ease into the simplicity of village life, with the additives of fetching water from a pump and carrying the bucket on my head, listening to the mosque call 5 times a day (the first starting at 6 am), waking up with roosters and watching goats mingle in the cooking area (which didn't bother me at first, but by the end of training village drove me crazy!!) I some how chipped my left 2nd tooth (Marilina, what is that one called?), got strep throat or something and fluctuated between major constipation or full blown diarrhea (fun huh?). Bike rides to the next market town, Soma, about 10k away, were a big deal, where I loaded up on tons of cookies and leafy veggies--a huge treat. I even planned a weekend to visit friends in a Fula village about 12k away, spent the night and we biked to Tendaba Camp, swam, came back and made spaghetti and garlic bread on a gas tank. It was amazing garlic bread.

Part II- Perminant Site
Then about a week ago, we had our site visits. I knew I was going to be in Brikama, an urban town in the Kombo area, working with the NGO Hands On Care. I didn't know what site would be like, but heard that they had found a family for me. Turns out, it is still a renters compound, but with a family component. While being driven down a sandy-neighborhoodesk, tree lined road, I didn't know what to think. Then we passed a faucet pump and stopped at Camera Kunda. When I walked through the iron and glass french front doors and stepped on my tile floor, I was totally confused. I walked around my 3 bedroom, one living room, one bathroom with plumbing house for a good 10 minutes completely overwhelmed. I would say that feeling hasn't and probably won't leave me for a while. I escaped electric and water bills for 3 months, but now they've found me again. It's a brand new house and I'm the very first person to live there and I don't even know where to start in terms of decorating or furnishing, but it is important to me to have a safe, comforting place to come home to for the next 2 years, so I'm going to start with a fresh coat of paint. I hope to hold a few painting parties, otherwise, painting is the only thing I'll be doing in the next 6 months. I did get a chance to get to the carpenter before coming to PC hostel this week and should have a counter top, small table, night stand, bathroom stand and clothes shelf made for me when I get back. I'm going to send money with people who live up country to get one double bamboo bed made and one single to act as a couch in one of the rooms. I haven't decided what to do with the other room, but I'm thinking maybe a yoga/climbing room (I wonder if anyone would know how to build a climbing wall over here, and how much it would cost to get holds shipped over here?--I'm half kidding, but actually half serious--who wants to come visit and help me build a climbing wall, Aaron, Lisa, Summit? Chris? Arnold? Sarah and Srin?) I'm going to miss village life, but can't beat a 10 minute walk to my job and to the market where I can make veggie burrito/eggerrito goodness type food any time I desire. Traditional Gambian food is pretty good, but usually consists of a lot of rice and oil or millet and oil with some kind of groundnut or leafy sauce, sometimes with fish (that have tons of bone, naturally), cassava (a type of root), overcooked onions or a few over cooked bitter tomatoes. My living arrangements include having lunch with the family, but I will be on my own for breakfast and dinner, which will allow for some variety. I will still wash my clothes by hand, but have a spigot right outside my front door. I plan on planting lots of flowers in my concrete like flower bed at some point, too. I've met some employees of Hands on Care and members of the Alletentu support group and am excited to ease in to that position. Like I mentioned before, they just released an album, which I will buy and send back to The States for you guys to hear. The PCV I'm replacing, Bonnie, may stick around for a little while longer to work with another organization, which I'm really excited about because she has done so much with the group and it would be nice to have her help with my transition, and she's a runner and she's really nice.

I have a mother named Tida, a father in France named Lamin, 3 sisters named Kadi (who has Momedu age 7, Ebrima age 3 and Adama 3 months) Fanta age14 and Mansanta age 10. I also have an aunt (or binki-the father's sister) named Mariama Camera, same as me, ironically (which is known as your name sake or toma), who has 3 sons, Lamin age 21, Saja age 18 and Kemu age 12. They own and watch a TV most nights, own a land line and have electricity. The boys all speak some English, so not all communication is lost. At this point, I can say where I'm going, where I've come from, what I want and need, what I'm doing currently, what I did yesterday and what I will do tomorrow. We've learned how to say what we habitually do, ask questions and even that we're doing something while doing something else (like talking while eating), but my vocab is still minimal and sentence structure is a pain in the butt.

Part III- PC Hostel, aka The Stodge
This is where Yes gets some play time. Who knew hot showers, bunk beds, DVD/TV, shelves of games and books and a full size kitchen could be so overwhelming!? I walked in to an actual grocery store in the first time in 3 months and didn't know where to start (who am I kidding, I went straight to the candy isle). I bought a 1/2 kilo of mozzarella cheese for D125 and soon remembered how much I missed actually cooking and the repetitive act of washing dishes in a sink with running water. I am going to savor this next week and eat 10lbs of veggies and maybe even buy ice cream. It's also a mad house there right now because all the trainees, as well as all the close of service (COS) people are staying here right now.

So what do you think the trailer would look like at this point?

This is the section where I mention things I miss.

Things that I miss (and may fit nicely in care packages):
gummy candy (like mike and ikes)
gum
burts bees chapstick
dried fruit
batteries-AA/AAA
trail mix/nuts (anything other than peanuts, please)
triscuit crackers
a stylish pair of sunglasses
posters I could hang on my bare walls
bobby pins and pony tail holders
shampoo, crest toothpaste/toothbrush

Letters! Letters! Letters!

Things I miss (but wouldn't fit nicely in care packages):
My family and friends
My dogs
NPR

Well I think I'll close for now, I've been here for almost 5 hours. Promise pics this week, check out some extra links--may give you a little insight of what work may be like for the next 2 years.

Love and Hugs so big!

I don't even know where to start!

2007-04-04T06:33:00.000-05:00

So, first of all, thanks to those who have sent letters this way. They totally lift my spirits. Please keep them coming! I've officially moved to my perminent site in an urban town called Brikama. I will be working with an NGO called Hands on Care that works with people living with HIV/AIDS. I will start that work in 2 weeks, after officially swearing in. I'll try to get as much info in as possible in the 30 min I have remaining at this internet cafe.

1. My English talking and spelling is getting worse-disregard mispelled words
2. I brought 5 tubes of chapstick and haven't found any here yet, keep them coming if you want to send any in the mail.
3. Chris Emme's mom- Chris has gotten tons of letters and packages, but I think you've heard from him by now.
4. My new home in Brikama is at least 2 times as big as my home in Norman, has electricity and running water. My new host mom's name is Tida Kanajii and her husband's name is Lamin Camera (he is in France right now)
5. Just when I had gotten used to fetching water from a pump and carrying it on my head and using a pit latrine and taking bucket baths every night in my training village, Kaif, PC switched everything up on me and is tricking me in to thinking I'm somewhere in between The States and Africa.
6. I am a 10 minute walk to a market to get fresh veggies and fruits.
7. Training has been exhuasting and I'm excited to start working with the NGO
8. My training group put on several presentations consiting of Malaria skits in Mandinka, dipping bednets, etc., a model school presentation on HIV/ AIDS, with a song on how HIV is spread and not spread to the tune of "Shake Your Booty", a final presentation on Personal Hygiene, how to put together a needs assessment and how to put the info into a skit to our Peer Health Group in the Kaif school.
9. I really wanted to start some sort of garden, but I don't have a back yard. Maybe I will find some land somewhere close to my house.
10. I miss you all back home!
11. I'll try to post pics soon, I have a lot
12. Mango season is about to be here. I've discovered the cashew fruit and it is amazing. You can eat the fruit and the nut, but not the shell from the nut.
13. Send emails because I can check them.
14. My Gambian name is Mariama Camera
15. The sound of a donkey braying is almost as funny as watching it bray.
16. I hear the Mosque call to prayer 5 times a day.

I have to go for now, but more to come later. I love you guys and miss you. But I want to hear from you!

Fo Sila Koteng

2007-02-09T01:26:00.000-06:00

Means "until another trip". So I just wanted to write a quick hello/peace out because we are off to Kaiaf and the rest of our training villages today. That means no more communication for, well, who knows until when. Keep in touch!

Oh, I could also use:

Protein bars
Tuna in a sack
Gladware

Off to training village soon!

2007-02-07T14:35:00.000-06:00

So today is the first day learning about the culture sort of hit me. A guest speaker from GAMBCOTRAP (an NGO) came today to talk about Female Genital Cutting, a rich tradition deeply rooted in the African culture as part of a rite of passage for women into adulthood, or even earlier. Besides that, she reminded and informed us of partner violence, the super-importance of greeting people, forced marriage (sometimes even from birth). They also put it in perspective from the US stand point, such as when women we given the right to vote, etc. It will be interesting when we get into the village. I am loving learning the language, although it is tough because we are in training ALL day, then we still feel the need to practice. We also learned about Gambia time, which is a MUCH slower pace. Since most are Muslim, there are certain times in the day where setting up meetings will not work. For example, if you say, "let's have the meeting at 2pm", they may think, well, I must pray first, then arrange for care of my children, then go pick up someone that is going to the meeting, have tea at her house, then head to the meeting maybe at 3 or 4pm. It is going to be an adjustment, but of course it's all part of the culture and I'm excited to work with a slower pace.

We went to the market yesterday to practice language. Our LCH (language) teacher went with us to help a little. I was able to ask "how much is this" and "my change", etc. I bought detergent, earrings, bracelets, and a soap caddy. I'm going to buy fabric as soon as get a tad bit more compfy with the language, in order to have a skirt made. We also learned how to squat over a pit latrine and take a bucket shower.

The group I'm with is also pretty active. We've been doing all types of yoga. I've been leading a few Ashtanga classes in the morning and going on runs in the evening (on the beach!!)

Friday we are headed to Kaaif to spend a few weeks there in our training village and going back and forth to Tendaba, a training camp. Kaaif is a village south of the river, up country a little. It has about 3,000 people. This is where we will get a good impression of what life in our permanent village will be. We will live in a compound with a host family and work on Training Directed Activities (TDAs) in order to get to know the village and work on language.

On another note, here are some things that I thought of that would be helpful to have here to give to village children and for myself:

Colored pencils
Stickers
Coloring books
A soccer ball
Batteries
Mike and Ikes, candy in general
Travel size kleenex

Fo Natoo! Love and hugs.

PS check out the personal photos

Also, if you are planning on visiting me, please pack an extra duffel bag so I can send some things back with you. Packing for 2 years of the unknown is catching up to me!

I Somma (pronounced "E Somma")

2007-02-04T05:03:00.000-06:00

Means good morning. Well, I made it here in one piece, although it took about 24 hrs to get here. Two 8 hour flights, 1 four hour lay-over and 21 almost strangers scared and excited out of their minds sure makes for interesting company and confusing people watching.

There are still 21 of us! We are staying in Kombo, the main city center at a training facility called the Gambia Pastoral Institute (GPI). Our days have been filled with lots of mini sessions about culture, introduction to programs, clinic visits, language classes, 3 solid meals a day and running water and electricity. A few days ago, we had interviews and were placed into language groups with 2 or 3 other people. I was placed with Rachel and Chris, both have lived in Texas at some point in their lives and we are learning the Mandinka language. The Mandinka tribe makes up about 40% of The Gambia. The two other tribes and their languages are Wolof, that speak Olof and the Fula, that speak Pular. We will leave GPI on Friday to go to training villages with our groups for about two weeks or so, going back and forth between the training villages and Camp Tendaba, then back to GPI for the last week of training. In all, we will be training for 10 weeks. Once in the training villages, our Language and Cultural Helpers (LCHs) will be staying with us (even though Rachel, Chris and I will all be divided up and living individually with our own host families). I will be staying in the training village of Kiaaf, about 35k from Camp Tendaba. There we will be working on projects called Training Directed Activities (TDAs) to help us integrate some work into our language and culture adaptations. GPI is not necessarily representative of what the rest of the two years will be like. Once we get to training villages, I will have a better idea.

I am having a great time so far. A lot of my anxieties have decreased, and the people in this Health and Community Development group are amazing. It makes sense that we have stuff in common, but it seems people feel comfortable enough with each other to make an effort to get to know one another. The other day, our Associate Program Country Director, Gibril (ACPD) went over some goals and objectives that Peace Corps and The Gambian government have put together. Several of them were things that I am super interested in and I got pretty excited.

So far, I've only been in the Kombo area and it reminds me of towns in Costa Rica. Taxi's (called five-fives) honk at everyone, people walk the streets, vendors sell things and people yell things (tuubob is the word for for a non-African). A group of us went running today, down the one road that goes along TG, south of the river (there is one road north of the river as well) and we ran to the ocean and along a cliff line. It was absolutely gorgeous to see the palm trees and the cliff line for kilos and kilos.

Last night we met other PCVs at a restaurant called Come In. It was neat to talk to them about their experiences, see people who our group will replace and learn about their projects. New training groups come about every 3 or 4 months to replace the last group. The 3 groups working in TG are Agro-Forestry, Education and Health.

Today is a free day, so I'm off to the beach, then back home to wash some laundry in a bucket!!

I miss you guys and will try to get some pictures up soon. Keep in touch!

Super Quick

2007-01-30T15:56:00.000-06:00

So I have t-minus 3 min. to say a lot. DC has been great. Lots of nice people with the same attitude and for the most part, beliefs. Learned a few things about the next few days in TG. Will get D900 for a walk around allowance (D28/dollar). Will be in Banjul for a few days, then divide in groups to start training. Will be in groups of 3/4, depending on services. Will be there 5 weeks, traveling from host to camp Tendeba. Love you, miss you. Send letters!

It could be a while

2007-01-29T06:32:00.000-06:00

Not sure of the next time I will be able to write. I just want to let you all know how thankful I am for the beautiful good-bye wishes and positive encouragement. It's not going to be easy being away and it feels incredible to know I have the support from so many people!! Thaaaank Youuuuuuu!

Good-byes and Surprises

2007-01-27T02:32:00.000-06:00

Well, I've officially moved from Norman. It was unbelievably hard to say good-bye to the incredible people I've met and the town where so many wonderful memories are created. It seems unreal that my main purpose for moving there has come and 5 1/2 years has gone. I couldn't have asked for a better last night/day, though. I got to spend much desired quality time with my great friend and her new son, people from yoga took me out to dinner at Victoria's, and the night ended with the necessary (well, in my book) stop at the Library. I also made a visit to little, old Rhyne Hall (the social work school) and got to see one of my favorite teachers. Then, this morning, I spent some time riding my baby blue bike around Main St., returning library books and stopping in at shops that caught my eye. This included The Book Stall (where I bought one of the books I had just returned to the library for $3.75 because I didn't finish it), Guestroom (where I purchased a The Velvet Underground, Andy Warhol CD), Main Site (where a new exhibit was going up so I didn't get to see anything), Forward Foods (where I purchased some cheese for a birthday present), and Benvinutii's bakery (where everything looked too perfect to eat, so I didn't buy anything). Then Chris and I ate at The Diner, loaded up boxes and dogs, and drove to Dallas.

After continuous heart-wrenching good-byes, I found myself in the midst of a glorious hello. My father surprised both my mother and me by flying in my younger sis from Florida for the weekend. Now the next two days will consist of open houseness and laundry!

Thanks for the love

2007-01-20T14:04:00.000-06:00

It's so nice to feel so supported during a time like this. But I must be honest because in a way, it makes it even harder to know I'm leaving such a great support system. On the other hand, it will make a world of a difference to know people are thinking of me.

So, I had an amazing opportunity to speak with someone who just got back from the Peace Corps, Gambia. I had the opportunity to have lunch with her gracious mother as well. Speaking with both of them definitely helped ease some anxiety. (Mom, you'll be happy to know that she received every package (and all of its contents) that her mom sent to her. Just don't forget to send them air mail).

I learned that I will basically be living in tank tops, long skirts and sandals. I learned that it is best to establish a personal routine and privacy policy early on with your host family and the village, so that it is simply a norm from the time you arrive. I also took from the conversation that perhaps one reason volunteers end their terms early is because they go in to the program with different expectations. What I mean is that one huge purpose of the Peace Corps is cultural exchange. It's important to understand that even the smallest contribution is helpful, but if you expect to "change the world," you're going to be disappointed. It is very possible that I will have more free time then I know what to do with during the first year of service. I also found out that recreational running is acceptable, but modesty is appreciated. I also got a better idea of what it might be like to live with out electricity and running water. Candles are available even in the most remote village, and the water well will probably only be a minute's walk. But then again, I may very well be in a village with both. I have a better idea of what to pack now, as well. It doesn't sound like I will need to bring 2 years worth of bar soap, like I was envisioning before. Toiletries like shampoo and toothpaste are available and can also be shipped to me (as well as those things I can't live without, like Burt's Bee's chap stick, Extra Polar Ice gum, and of course, CANDY!) Since I learned that I may have some extra time on my hands, I might bring some paints. But this also means that I will have time to learn about my village's customs and traditions. I am hoping to pick up a musical instrument or make pottery, or another craft used by the community.

I've joked to a few of you about adopting a baby once I'm over there, but the friend I've gained actually adopted a village puppy while she was over there (and even brought it back to the States!). That is one of the best pieces of information that I've heard! It is totally something I would do and might even make the transition a little easier.

Also, I wanted to say thanks for the great laughs, love and hugs from the party. It was really nice to see a lot of familiar faces.

Just one week left!

party details, for reals

2007-01-16T20:14:00.000-06:00

My friend, Sarah's house

Friday, Jan. 19th

8:30ish pm

1720 Oakwood Dr. (pretty much on the north side of McGee and Lindsey)

Norman

This is also a party for my friend, Kathleen Romero, who turns 25 on that day.

I think this is called the breaking point

2007-01-12T08:58:00.000-06:00

Okay, so I woke up in a panic this morning, after reading through some paper work again last night and realizing that I truly will be leaving in less than 3 weeks. I am constantly worried about what to pack. What the heck am I doing going to Austin this soon before I leave? I know I'm over-reacting, but shouldn't I be in Norman packing and re-packing 20 times like I feel like I should be doing? Shouldn't I be spending as much time as possible with Roscoe and Aaron and Lisa's new baby? I know things are going to work out just fine, but since I had access to a computer, I just needed to get a few things off my mind.

Also, if you are thinking you want to send me away with a little something special, here are a few things that might be handy:

1. Burt's Bees chap stick (The regular, tube kind. Thanks to Brandon, I found out that the honey one is not quite my style.)

2. A short wave radio

3. Small speakers for the MP3 player

4. A star and constellation chart

5. Basic toiletries

6. Ideas for host family gifts, maybe something small and unique to Oklahoma

7. A small thermos

Okay, now I feel a little better. Thanks for listening.

mail it to me! (and going away party)

2007-01-12T01:17:00.000-06:00

First thing's first: A going away party is scheduled for Friday, January 19th at my friend Sarah's house. She lives on the corner of Oakwood and McGee in Norman. Not sure of the exact address or time yet (probably 8:30 or 9), but mark your calendars because I NEED to see you!!!!!!!!!!!

Since it could take up to 4 weeks for mail to get to and from The Gambia, you can start mailing me letters! I'm not exactly sure how much it costs, but you can check with the post office. Make sure to send it "Air Mail" otherwise, we'll both learn a whole other meaning to the term "snail mail." Also, they suggest numbering letters, so we can tell if one goes missing. Finally, use an envelope or perhaps even a padded envelope for heavier packages instead of post cards because they are more likely to get lost.

Here is my address:

Courtney Gilman, PCV
U.S. Peace Corps
PO Box 582
Banjul, The Gambia
West Africa

Who wants to come visit me? If you are the least bit interested, click on the link that says "Info for friends and family" on the right side of this page. They suggest starting to plan your trip at least 6 months in advance.

Quickie Update

2007-01-09T13:15:00.000-06:00

Just have a few minutes before heading back to my HIV Instructor's Training course.

I made my official travel reservations yesterday to get to DC. I'm leaving from DFW on Jan 29 at 8:15am. I arrive at noon and have to be at orientation at 2pm.

I am leaving Norman either the 26th or 27th, to spend the last few days in Dallas with the folks. I think my friend Sarah is throwing some sort of going away thing, but I need to check with her about details.

TOO much fun

2007-01-07T14:27:00.000-06:00

Last night my friends and I got to know our good old town of Norman just a little bit better. We introduced ourselves to a few stares and a lot of laughs by going on a "shady bar" tour in our cute little college town. It turned out to be one of the most fun nights I've ever had, even though I'm going to have to shower at least 4 times before getting the smell of smoke out of my hair.

Here's a little description of each bar, starting with the one to which I will least likely to return.

1. Bill and Dee's (Main and Porter)
This was the 3rd bar we went to. It was the only bar that didn't ID us at all. The domestic beer was $2 and it had more of an Alternative/Punk feeling to the bar. Lynard Skynard's "Gimmie 3 Steps" was playing on the jukebox. Shadiest thing was probably the strange pictures/posters on the wall, including an all too revealing painting of Daffny Duck.

2. Henry Hudson's Pub (W. Main and 36th Ave)
Staring seemed to be going out of style at this bar. We also got ID'd not once, but twice. Loan Star was on special for $2 and my beer was "prematurely" snagged by the waiter because apparently no one drinks the last swig any more. We got cheese fries for $1.75 and there were mirrored name plates on the bathroom doors. Dave Matthews and Matchbox 20 played over the jukebox. Shadiest thing was probably the stares from the people.

3. Blue Bonnet Bar (Main and Porter)
This was a great place. The domestic beer was $2 and it wasn't very crowed. The tables were made from big, wooden cable spools. There were two HUGE murals, advertising Coors and Budweiser on each one. "Coming to America" was playing on the TV and "Free Falling" by Tom Petty was playing on the jukebox. My friend Arnold and I played the longest game of pool ever because we are both so bad. We sort of got ID'd twice here also. Shadiest thing was probably the skulls and deer heads on the wall.

4. Old #9 (E. Alameda and 36th Ave)
This was a tiny, courteous joint on the east side of town. There were 7 people in the bar, including the bar tender, Carry. We ordered 2 pitchers of Bud Light for $5,50 each. When Carry saw we needed more, she brought another one over on the house. Friends played a game of darts and we kept with tradition by signing a beam in the middle of the room. A skipping Steve Miller Band CD played and a Pizza was delivered. Shadiest thing about this place was the lack of people. If you ever get a chance, get a group of friends together to support this place, and say hi to Carry for me.

5. Ol' Blues (Flood and Robinson)
Definite winner in my book! We ended our night here, which was good because if we came here first I'm not sure if I would have made it to the other bars. Ol' Blues had a dance floor with a disco ball and karaoke. The domestic beers were $2 and they still had the Christmas tree up. The lady let us sing karaoke even though she should have cut us off. My friend Brook and I sang "Girl's Night Out" by the Judds, then all the girls got up to sing what we thought was "Ain't No Mountain High Enough", but it turned out to be the talking version so we just sang a lot of "woooos" and "aahhhs." The best part was that when the karaoke lady announced the last karaoke song, she was the one who sang it. I will definitely come back to this place. Shadiest thing was probably the gravel parking lot and building structure. It reminded me of the scenes from "Midnight Cowboy." I could certainly picture brawls going down.

Pretty much all the bars had pool tables, darts, cigarette machines and jukeboxes. A few had shuffleboard tables. I'm so happy the night worked out and it was an awesome way to spend time with friends before I head out.

Salaamaaleekum!

2007-01-04T15:47:00.000-06:00

That is Wollof (Wolof) for "peace be upon you."

Maleekum salaam means "peace return to you."

You'll learn more as I learn more!

P.S. Does anyone read this? How about a few comments, already?!

Mini Book Club

2007-01-01T09:43:00.000-06:00

Interested? I'm reading The Good Earth by Pearl S. Buck and since many of the summer book-clubbers are back in Norman for the holidays, I thought it would be fun to read and discuss one more book. Spread the word. We can meet in about a week or so.

Less than a month!

2006-12-31T11:26:00.000-06:00

It's officially less than one month away and I have no idea how I'm getting there! I still haven't received my "Staging Kit", which tells me how to make my travel arrangements. I am starting to get emails more frequently from this Jason character, who informed me that he is looking forward to meeting me Jan 29th in Washington D.C. As I'm typing this, I can't help but feel like I'm flying off to meet a complete stranger; a match made in the Peace Corps world, with whom I've has so little contact with that I can't even decide if I should be excited about meeting him.

Yesterday, Jason sent me another email informing me about language resources. Turns out I should be freshening up on my Wolof, one of the many indigenous languages in The Gambia, but spoken by 90% of those in Senegal (which surrounds The Gambia on 3 sides), as opposed to French, which is only spoken by 20% of males and only 2% of females. Wolof is also a language spoken in Mauritania, Mali and a few other West African countries. I could also be learning Mandinka or Fula, but I looked at the consonants in the Wolof language and they seem pretty neat, so I'm pulling for Wolof.

I hope everyone is having a great holiday season, spending time with those with whom they want! (Does that even make sense?!) Happy new year!

New Years Eve Par-Tay

2006-12-26T19:53:00.000-06:00

8:30, this Sunday at 623 S. Lahoma Avenue in Norman (Joe Ripperger's house). It could be the last time you see me!

What-not

2006-12-25T23:44:00.000-06:00

The other night, I dreamt that I witnessed a hostage situation in a car that I was following. I tried to get the licence plate number. After I couldn't see that clearly, I followed the car with the hostage to a house. I ended up getting caught and played a game of hide and seek with the criminal. It was pretty creepy.

On a ligher note, Christmas was wonderful this year. I have gone on two amazing runs around my neighborhood in Carrollton (thanks to the new MP3 player from Chris), reflecting on whom and what I will miss. I am so grateful that I was able to spend these past few holidays with my family and that I will be around for the birth of one of my best friend's first child. I received an email from the Peace Corps stating that they "are looking forward to my arrival in D.C. on the 29th of January". That was news to me, as I still haven't received my staging kit, which tells me how to make travel arrangements. I also got a letter for you guys to read, which I posted as the "Peace Corps info for friends and family" link.

My family will be making our annual visit to Beavers Bend State Park in a few days. We will celebrate my Mother's 55th birthday with family friends and hike nature trails that I know like the back of my calloused hands. I am looking forward to 3 days of solace through hikes, books, runs, camp fires and soul soups and pastas. Roscoe is almost as excited as I am. His frisbee is already packed in the car.

Livin it up in Nompton

2006-12-20T10:48:00.000-06:00

Soooooooooo, in keeping with my love of lists, I've decided to start a "Things to do in Norman and the surrounding areas with people who would like to hang out because we won't be able to hang out for a while" list. Feel free to comment some suggestions because I know you Normanites have been keeping those underground Latin salsa dance clubs secret from us wanna be Normanites.

1. Happy hour (or any hour for that matter) at the Library
2. Play with my dogs
3. Make something at the Beadery
4. Buy music at Guestroom
5. See a movie at the Ed Nobel Theater/ art exhibit at Oklahoma City Museum of Art
6. Eat at Sushi Neko
7. Stay out dancing all night long with friends
8. Take some photos of things that remind me of Norman
9. Make a snow angel (please snow one more time!!!!!!!!!!!)
10. Get a beer and prepare for stares at Ol' Blues Bar on Flood

My so-called boring life

2006-12-14T10:44:00.001-06:00

So, I was told the other day by a good-hearted person that my blog (I still haven't gotten used to that word) has recently been "kinda boring". Yikes! Does that mean my life is kinda boring? Well, I guess I'll let you decide that one. But, heck, I'm having a good time and that's all that matters, right?

This is a little of what I've been doing since I started feeling like the departure count down has begun.

I go to my awesome advocating job for NASW two times a week, and usually babysit for these adorable (that is until 5 o'clock comes around) two kiddos once a week.

In the past few weeks, I've been taking advantage of the sweet things that OU has to offer, such as plays, capstones and concerts. I saw Iphigenia, a Greek tragedy put on by the drama department. I also saw Joanna Newsom and Billy Callahan from Smog. Both perfomed amazing sets, but I can't stop describing how mesmorizing Joanna Newsom and her harp were.

I've been practicing yoga at Ashtanga Yoga Studio on Campus Corner about 3 or 4 times a week. If you like being surrounded by genuine people and have ever been interested in learning Ashtanga yoga, I highly recommend a visit.

I've been reading a ton and looking for good books to read. I just finished Little Children by Tom Perrotta; a great dynamic read. Have any more suggestions?

I've been making a lot of lists. I have a list of what to pack. I have the obvious list of what needs to be done before I leave (like making tons of phone calls). I even started a list of random things that I like and a list of things that I don't like that has nothing to do with The Gambia.

I've also recently decided to do a trial period of vegetarianism (still consuming fish, dairy and eggs). Partly because I'm interested to see if it will help with my yoga practice, but also because if it doesn't work out, eating in The Gambia may be easier. Okay, yeah, that really doesn't make any sense, but I'm going to try it anyway.

Also, I'm helping my friend, Joe, plan a huge New Year's Eve party. I think it's gonna be awesome. Last time he had a party, there was a bar tender. More to come on that later, but mark your calendars!

Finally, I have definitely NOT been stuyding for the GRE. I don't even know if I want to take it right now. It's just so much easier to watch my lists grow longer and longer and enjoy a few seasonal beers at The Libaray with good company.

Christmas party this Friday

2006-12-10T12:52:00.000-06:00

So, I know this technically has nothing to do with The Gambia, but my roommates and I are having a Christmas party Friday, Dec. 15 around 8pm. Bring your friends and beverages of your holiday cheer.

201 Apache (Big white house on the corner of Sante Fe and Apache, bottom floor)
Norman

A few more wishes

2006-12-09T16:49:00.000-06:00

A harmonica (check, thanks to Brandon!!)

A day planner/calendar with large boxes to write in

Pre-departure Nostalgia?

2006-12-07T14:13:00.000-06:00

Is there such thing? Recently people have been asking me if I'm ready to take the plunge. I had been saying that I feel mentally prepared, but not materially prepared. But that was before I turned the page on my wall calander to December.

Less than two months away, I am already sensing a feeling of what it will be like to miss my amazing network of friends and activities here in Norman. With that said, I want to spend as much time as possible with YOU!!! Yeah, that's right, YOU! Without the time, laughs, fun, sturggles, hours at The Library, etc., my life wouldn't have ammounted to what its combination is today. So pick up the phone, send an email, stop by my house or purposely run into me on the street (I'll try to do the same), cuz I've got a tad of free time and plenty of ways to spend it.

The Information Station

2006-11-29T12:52:00.000-06:00

Due to the recent influx of questions regarding anything to do with the Peace Corps and The Gambia, I have decided to make some lists. Hopefully this will ease some repetition so we can talk about you a little more.

What I don't know:
1. Where I will be living, whether it will be in a rural or urban area, with or without a host family
2. How much I will be making
3. What exactly I will be doing
4. When I will return to the US
5. Which indigenous tribe I will be working with and what language I will be learning
6. How often I will have phone or computer access
7. If I will have electricity
8. If I will have running water
9. If I wll be working with another Peace Corps volunteer or alone
10. Where my orientation in the States will be held

What I do know:
1. They speak English
2. I will be doing something under community health and development
3. I will be in training for 3 months in a camp called Tendaba
4. I will be in my assignment for 24 months starting after the training
5. I leave at the end of January or the beginning of February
6. I have a few days of orientation in the States before I leave (which I found out now is in D.C. on the 29th of January)

What I want to bring but don't have yet:
1. MP3 player (check! Chris, you're awesome)
2. A travel yoga mat
3. A good head lamp (check! Thanks Aaron and Lisa!!)
4. A quick dry towl (check! Dang, I actually received 3 of these all in about 3 days. Thanks so much Andrew and Julie, Bob and Erica, Mom and Dad)
5. Burts Bees chap stick (Brandon rules)
6. Another synthetic sports bra
7. Synthetic running pants that come just below my knees
8. Any advice on herbal meds that could help with digestion problems