Culture Dictionary

So, I realized recently that there are quite a few things about the Gambian culutre that I want to share but may have neglected. This is a very concise "dictionary" of my opinion of things, to help explain some stuff I see on pretty much a daily basis. (Not in alphabetical order, though- some dictionary, huh?, and some of this I borrowed from fellow PCVs) Also, obviously I haven't gone to Basse, yet (see, TIME).

1. Pounding: What the women start doing with rice and millet and any other food we eat, in a large morter with a larger pestal, even before the roosters start crowing to prepare their food days in advance.

2. Gele-Gele: Bush taxi that could take hours to catch, which is ALWAYS full of people, and breaks down as often as Micheal Jackson does in his "Thriller" video.

3. Toubab: The word that I've learned to ignore, but use when describing my fellow PCV friends to others (if you call me this back in the States, I will ignore you, too.)

4. Small Boy: This is one of my favoirtes (to witness, not participate in). This is where you get someone younger than you to do your work for you. As one of the PCVs explained, this is used as a verb, such as "I wonder what Fatou is doing right now? Geez, it's hot out and I don't want to walk all the way to her compound, so I think I'll small boy her to see what she's doing."

5. Attaya: The name of the highly cafinated tea that is added their cup of sugar. You can see young boys brewing their sugar additive at all hours of the day, even in the 100 degree heat. Which brings me to the next word...

6. Hot: And I thought I knew what it was, growing up in Texas and all. This is a constant topic of conversation. I'm closer to the coast, so I really can't complain all that much, but let's just say that people don't go inside their houses to sleep until around 4am. Pass me the steaming, hot attaya, please!

7. Time: In training, we learned that is called "polychronic" here. In training village, we coined the phrase "they took too much polychronic this morning". This basically means when someone tells you to be at the car park at 8am, they won't be there until 10. It means when my sister thinks she's leaving with her kids to travel across the country, on someone else's schedule, she really has absolutely no idea when that could be. It means practicing patience and wondering if I'll bring the polychronic back with me to the States (I'm guessing not, since I probably won't pass customs with it in tow).

8. Trip Gift aka Sila Fando: Something given to the people you are going to visit, or in my case, live with for the next two years. It ususally consists of Kola nuts, attaya and sugar (caffine, caffine, and caffine affects).

9. Namesake aka Toma: The person of whom you are named after. I think I've only heard about 30 names. When I hear one I've never heard before, I'm a little surprised. When I introduce myself to another Mariama, it's like Christmas and if I introduce myself to another Mariama Camera, it's like Christmas and New Years, only if they were even more close on the calander. The other day I asked Sr. how many Tomas she thinks she has running around Gambia. People are so grateful to her, that I've seen at least 3 "Christine's" duing the short time I've been here.

10. Kulliyo: The naming ceremony where the baby is named after someone. People really don't celebrate their birthdays and if you ask when they were born, many will say things like "The year that the first Peace Corps came to stay with us". With that said, the Kulliyo is almost like all the person's birthday parties for their entire life rolled into one, huge, naming ceremony. Typically, some kind of live stock is killed, sheep being the most prized, and they can last up to a week with endless food, dancing and music. The ceremony usually won't happen for a while, as infant mortality is a concern. Also, can you imagine how much it would cost to have all your birthday celebrations at once?!

11. Tiya Futo: My new favorite sweet. Basically, it tastes like peanut butter cookie dough. It's made of ground peanuts, ground millet and sugar, pounded together and smashed into little balls. I like it because I can afford it on a daily basis in somewhat satiating quantities, it's sort of healthy (grain and protein) and the woman who sells it to me already knows me so well that one day I forgot my wallet and she gave me D5 worth on "credit". We have a little deal going on, too. I've noticed that if I bring my own zip lock bag, she puts a few extra balls in.

Also, polygomy is practiced. It is not practiced by everyone, but quite a few families consist of the one, male, head of household and multiple wives, and thus multiple children. If a man dies, his brothers may also chose to marry his wives and inherit his children.

Now, a few stories:

I am now the proud owner of a second hand, stained glass and wood, cat lamp, purchased by using Mandinka! I spotted it the first time when we were on our way to a home vist, passing by car, through the edge of the market. It sat on a stand with a bunch of appliances and I felt as if I were passing a garage sale back in the States every time. So, finally, one Friday afternoon around prayer time, I set out on foot to see if it was still there and even better, to see if it actually worked. There was also the "Toubab price" factor, so I had researched how much a typical lamp cost at one of the other appliance stands and found that they went for about D50. When I got there, I asked who was selling the cat lamp. A woman came around the corner and announced she was selling it. After a sucessful greeting session, she asked my name and we relized we were Tomas (her name was Janke Camera- a nickname of Mariama). Suddenly, it was like Christmas and New Years, and I knew at that instant, the cat lamp would be mine at a fair price! After chatting about where I was staying what I was doing here, I asked the price. When she told me D140, I told her that the price was too high, I'd seen lamps for much less and that, come on, now, we were Toma's afterall! After bargaining a little, we agreed on D60, then checked to make sure it actually worked. The moment I saw 4 cats, shining yellow, green, blue and red, I began to smile a smile that would stay with me all the way back to Camera Kunda.

Okay, now I want you to think of the last time you stepped fresh out of your steaming hot, running water, shower. Think of the lush, clean and newly washed-detergent smelling, thick towl that you wrapped your sopping wet body with and how it worked so well to soak up all that water. Yeah, so I brought one of those towls with me, thinking that at the very least, I would have that luxery of a fresh, thick towl to dry off with after taking my evening bucket bath. I even went so far as to ask my mom to buy me a new one before I left. I remember picking it out at Target, running my hands down the towl isle, feeling for the softest one and finally settling on one in a dark color (so the dirt wouldn't show as much). I later learned why those towls feel so good when drying off with them. Unfortunately I never got to use it the way it was inteneded. I had some people spend the night in training and the towl was used several times as a blanket and pillow. After those uses, I decided it was time to wash it. After I washed it (by hand, like everything else is washed), I immediately gave it to my host family. It was that moment of great stuggle while washing my plush, cotton, water soaking towl-the towl that I thought would be my friend for the next 2 years- that I realized I was going to lose. I've never felt the weight of so much water on one material article, as I did when I submurged my towl in the suds. I was simply not meant to wash, much less, own, a plush towl in Gambia. Thankfully, a few friends gave me the quick-dry towels before I left. They are truly amazing inventions and truly amazing friends. Now if I can only come to enjoy washing those double-bed sheets I bought...

Paint By Numbers

Preface to this next blog: I was home, sick and must have been in a pensive mood when I wrote it. After re-reading it, it seems a little heavy, but I thought I might as well post it because how else are you going to know what the heck is going on over here?!

I want to try to give some mental pictures of a few things that repeatedly stand out in my mind, especially in the areas of culture, race and religion. The end of this month will bring 5 months in country. To me, that signifies that one of my closest girlfriend's 2 week old baby is actually going to be 5 months old. It means I've seen the moon wax and wane (yes, dear Gambian child, the same one we have back in America)and the stars disappear and reappear under this bountiful, African sky, through a five-cylce period. It means 22 more months of service; which seems like quite a bit of time to dedicate to help improve the lively hood of the support group members, as well as exchanging cultural beliefs, but will probably fly by. It means 22 more months of not meeting friends back home at my favorite pub after an endorphin-filled-my eyelashes are going to hurt tomorrow-climbing session at the gym, playing fetch with the dog, or seeing that hyped-up summer flick. It means a pretty good chance at becoming near fluent in Mandinka, and if you are a believer in that saying "you are what you eat", look for the person in the airport 2 years from now that highly resembles a mango. It means a chance to teach my sis and her kids some English and how to read a little, as well as watch her youngest take his first steps.

Twenty-two more months will allow me to hear approximately 3,350 more prayer calls over the mosque loud speaker. I've come to find the entire process of Islamic prayer mesmerizing to watch, comforting to hear, and overall beautiful to live among. At first, I thought the idea of subjecting an entire country to the ways of Alla was disrupting so many church and state, not to mention noise violation laws, that a complaint box somewhere simply had to be overflowing by now. Wasn't there such a thing as separation between mosque and state?! Apparently not when more than 95% of the country's citizens claim the same religion, in this case Islam. Now, only 5 months later, I look past 22 months and wonder what it will be like not to live among one of the only constants that I can immediately put my finger on. Five times a day, corresponding with sunrises and sunsets (currently: 5:50am, 2pm, 5pm, 7:42pm, and 8:42pm), the Imam (prayer leader) flips the bull horn to the on position, mats are rolled out, shoes are removed and women's heads are covered with brightly designed scarves, and every practicing Muslim in Gambia faces east. From there, they start their eloquent series of Arabic versus while first bending from the hips, then knees, ankles and finally the neck. I am naive to the number of times and the significance to it all and I can't help but feel that my nervous glances towards and away the mesmerizing movements are somewhat legitimate; like the same feeling of uneasiness I would get from taking communion during mass where everyone knows I'm not Catholic. I'm encouraged more now than ever to seek out an English version of the Koran, as well as other religious texts, to add to my repertoire of the dozen of books I have a good chance of finishing by the end of our "3 month challenge".

Five months in country has also allowed me to whole-heartedly recognize that frightened look on a toddler's face as we nervously stroll towards each other, unsure of one an other's intentions so we stay away from sudden movements. Did I forget to take off my Halloween mask that I wear to bed every night? I'm guessing that's not the case. Am I the first person of unlike pigmentation they've come across or remember during their short life thus far on this giant earth? This, a more likely explanation, makes me wonder if the hurt, uncertainty and struggle I feel from this hysterical, retreating child is at all similar to the pain that those of unlike pigmentation felt (and possibly still feel) in the States. I'm not really willing to go there right now, but it defiantly makes me think, so I want you to think, too.

I also want to try to explain how there is a whole realm of how people live. First and foremost, most people seem pretty happy. Yes, it is true that they are without a lot (a lot, a lot), but they are happy. For some reason, happiness has always been high up on my important things in life, so I'm glad to witness happy people. Of course, I work within the health sector, so I also see not-so-happy people. I see people who are illiterate, walk up to 1/2 k to fetch clean drinking water (think about that the next time you flush your toilet), people who work SO hard Monday so their family will rice for supper on Wednesday-get the idea? But, please, don't think that because people are missing out on tons of luxuries we are accustomed to, that they are sad, poor, people. They are people who live in a developing world, where their culture and religion is of utmost importance, and brings a since of pride and happiness to their world. Yes, they could use money for schools and teachers, health care, transportation, infrastructure (my list could go on and on), but I am glad to witness that most people are fairly happy.

On a lighter note, I get mangos hand delivered to me by a naked 3 year old on almost a daily basis! My sister and the kids are going to Basse tomorrow (where I hear it fluctuates between 100-130 degrees on a daily basis) and I'm tagging along for the ride. I'm excited to see where she and her family stay, as well as see the rest of the country. Rest assured, I'll give a full report when I get back!

Work is good. I went to a workshop with some support group members this week. It was for Mutapola, a women's empowering movement for women support group members around the country living with HIV/AIDS. It took us 2 hours to get there on public transport, and 30 minutes to get home (we started walking to a car park and one of the members was recognized by a car passing by and gave us all a ride home!) The Home Based Care Volunteers also had their graduation ceremony last week. It was great to see them so eager and excited to get out there in the field and celebrate their hard work thus far. I also took a hot shower for the first time in 2 months and it was the best feeling in the world! One of my friends had to go home due to family reasons, so we helped her say goodbye by spending time with her at the PC hostel, which means hot showers and an oven that melts cheese on things.

Okay, there's a lot more I want to describe, but I'm hungry and I've been here for a long time.

Miss Toubab Brikama (new pictures are posted)

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

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

* 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

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)

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.