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
Monday, October 27, 2008
Monday, September 22, 2008
Ever thought you'd actually go to Timbukto?
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.
Saturday, September 6, 2008
More From Living in the Land of Babies on Backs and Balencing Acts
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.
.
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!!
.
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!!
Sunday, June 29, 2008
A Rough Guide to Peace Corps The Gambia on a Lonely Shoestring
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
Friday, June 20, 2008
Winter’s A Go-Go under an Eternal Summer’s Sun
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.
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.
Saturday, April 26, 2008
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!
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!
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
Roscoe's favorite season
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
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
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