I forgot two:
Good- Brewing attaya (the green tea). I think it's just the combination of the tea leaves and sugar burning together. I always think I'm smelling roasted marshmellows.
Bad- Gele exaust. Emission standards? Yeah right. These cars are the European rejects. That's why I waited 2 hours on the side of the road for a squeaky wheel.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Saturday, February 9, 2008
Christmas in what felt like July; Tobaski again in February?
One morning a couple of weeks ago, I was aroused from a dream I was having by the sound of a baaing sheep. Now, a herd of baaing goats passing by, outside the compound is completely normal. But the sound of one, slightly distressed sheep, inside the compound is extremely rare. I remember thinking groggily something like, "why wont someone just shoo the sheep outside the compound?" Then I even questioned if it really was a sheep or was I just hearing the sound of my own slumber?! Soon, I drifted back asleep, the noise actually being what helped lull me (or maybe I just counted to the number one over and over again, ha!) Well, I was having this dream that I had lost my little camera and I was SO mad at myself for losing it because I guess I thought I hadn't uploaded any of the photos I'd been taking this past year. They were all as good as completely gone as far as I was concerned and that made me extremely angry at myself So when I found myself waking up for the send time, my first though was relief at realizing my camera was in my bag right next to the bed. I stumbled sleepily from out under my bed net and walked to the front door, instead of the bathroom for some reason, and saw immediately the reason I had been able to drift back to sleep and stay that way for a few more hours: two of my neighbors were in the process of skinning the reason, which took the form of a slaughtered sheep. Next thing I did? Run back inside to locate (with reminded relief) my camera to take pictures! 
Last weekend I felt the urge to get out of town, so I called my friend who lives in a village about midway through the country on the north side of the river. I was excited about seeing her new site and spending the weekend with some friends who live more of the lifestyle to which we were first introduced. I've heard transport horror stories, so I tried to mentally prepare for what may be in store for the day, keeping in mind that patience needed to be the virtue most practiced. The trip to her village, near the town of Kaur, is probably no more than 200k (including the ferry crossing) from Brikama. I packed some food, my book and fully charged MP3 player geared with "This American Life", just in case. The following is an actual timeline of my journey:
9am: Leave from Brikama car park in a gele for Banjul in a Coastal Road car (they take a longer route, but stop less frequently).
10:15am: Drop from gele and take taxi to ferry terminal.
11:15am: Board ferry after getting pushed and shoved from "no lines in Gambia", where EVERYONE would benefit from a ticket and boarding line.
12:15pm: Arrive in Barra, across the river and find a gele going past her village, in order to drop accordingly.
1:30pm: Actually start the engine after waiting for the car to fill.
1:40pm: Stop for gas.
2:10pm: Stop for prayers; work on squeaky wheel.
3:00pm: Stop for this.
3:20pm: Stop for that.
4:14pm: Stop in a town about an hour away from my drop for food and an hour and a half of squeaky wheel work/ 5pm prayers.
6:45pm: Arrive in village!!! Greeted with a name sign by friends.
Man, that was a long day! Glad I geared up with plenty of patience and patriotism. Hanging in the village was refreshing and therapeutic for all 4 or us, as we reflected on the past year while projecting on the next. And the trip home was much quicker, as the luck of gele transport in Gambia presents itself.
It's crazy how our senses have the ability to evoke the most buried memories, creating a whirlwind of emotions, either leaving us feeling complete and nostalgic, or just completely wrecked. Touching a piece of satin reminds me instantly of my childhood blankie that I probably carried around way too long. Tasting a spoonful of Haagen-Dazs Coffee ice cream reminds me of afternoons at my Meme's house (even though she was a Rum Raisin fan). Listening to ANY Don William's song, no matter where in the world I am, will always remind me of the four of us driving to Beavers Bend State Park (gotta love the dysfunctional car rides :)). Even the subtlest glance toward a rock face or mountain, picture form or real, makes my hands get just a little clammier than they already were. But it's the sense of smell that has the most profound effect; does the most damage. You know what I'm talking about... You're standing at a crosswalk, furrowing your brow as your eyes follow that chic walking in the highest heals you've ever seen, when suddenly, you catch a whiff of what you place to be Play Dough. Now, you're back in elementary school re-living the time your diorama, entitled "Creatures Under the Sea", took 3rd in the annual 5th grade diorama contest. Or maybe you find yourself in the Chicago 'O Hare airport, next to a trashcan emitting sweet coffee fumes... Oh yeah, life BEFORE Nescafe.
Anyway, I guess the smell thing is so potent, it sometimes reminds us of things and places even when we're already there. Or perhaps it's the smelling them for the first time after not smelling them because the smells are just that unique to a place that brings some sort of comfort. What I'm getting at is that there are certain smells I didn't realized I had related to Gambia until I left, went to The States, thus not smelling them for a while, then coming back. So I want to take this opportunity to share some of the smells of this tiny country, I have come to recognize on a daily basis. Got your sinuses cleared? No matter, after this, they will be.
Good Smells:
1. Women frying fish heads in oil on neighborhood corners in the evenings.
2. This incense they burn in the little clay pots.
3. Just the burning firewood for daily cooking.
4. Babies lathered in shae butter.
5. Cashew fruit orchards.
6. General WA body odor "musk"
Not So Good Smells:
1. Grass/ donkey poop burning
2. Fishing ports
Hope you enjoyed a little updated tour of the Gambia, as seen through they eyes of an "old" PCV now. The new trainees came on Thursday and tonight is the get together at the "Come INN" where everyone gets to meet each other.
Miss you guys tons, just like usual. I uploaded a few pics. Thanks for the emails, letters and packages. They sure do help make and keep me happy!
Love, Courtney
Last weekend I felt the urge to get out of town, so I called my friend who lives in a village about midway through the country on the north side of the river. I was excited about seeing her new site and spending the weekend with some friends who live more of the lifestyle to which we were first introduced. I've heard transport horror stories, so I tried to mentally prepare for what may be in store for the day, keeping in mind that patience needed to be the virtue most practiced. The trip to her village, near the town of Kaur, is probably no more than 200k (including the ferry crossing) from Brikama. I packed some food, my book and fully charged MP3 player geared with "This American Life", just in case. The following is an actual timeline of my journey:
9am: Leave from Brikama car park in a gele for Banjul in a Coastal Road car (they take a longer route, but stop less frequently).
10:15am: Drop from gele and take taxi to ferry terminal.
11:15am: Board ferry after getting pushed and shoved from "no lines in Gambia", where EVERYONE would benefit from a ticket and boarding line.
12:15pm: Arrive in Barra, across the river and find a gele going past her village, in order to drop accordingly.
1:30pm: Actually start the engine after waiting for the car to fill.
1:40pm: Stop for gas.
2:10pm: Stop for prayers; work on squeaky wheel.
3:00pm: Stop for this.
3:20pm: Stop for that.
4:14pm: Stop in a town about an hour away from my drop for food and an hour and a half of squeaky wheel work/ 5pm prayers.
6:45pm: Arrive in village!!! Greeted with a name sign by friends.
Man, that was a long day! Glad I geared up with plenty of patience and patriotism. Hanging in the village was refreshing and therapeutic for all 4 or us, as we reflected on the past year while projecting on the next. And the trip home was much quicker, as the luck of gele transport in Gambia presents itself.
It's crazy how our senses have the ability to evoke the most buried memories, creating a whirlwind of emotions, either leaving us feeling complete and nostalgic, or just completely wrecked. Touching a piece of satin reminds me instantly of my childhood blankie that I probably carried around way too long. Tasting a spoonful of Haagen-Dazs Coffee ice cream reminds me of afternoons at my Meme's house (even though she was a Rum Raisin fan). Listening to ANY Don William's song, no matter where in the world I am, will always remind me of the four of us driving to Beavers Bend State Park (gotta love the dysfunctional car rides :)). Even the subtlest glance toward a rock face or mountain, picture form or real, makes my hands get just a little clammier than they already were. But it's the sense of smell that has the most profound effect; does the most damage. You know what I'm talking about... You're standing at a crosswalk, furrowing your brow as your eyes follow that chic walking in the highest heals you've ever seen, when suddenly, you catch a whiff of what you place to be Play Dough. Now, you're back in elementary school re-living the time your diorama, entitled "Creatures Under the Sea", took 3rd in the annual 5th grade diorama contest. Or maybe you find yourself in the Chicago 'O Hare airport, next to a trashcan emitting sweet coffee fumes... Oh yeah, life BEFORE Nescafe.
Anyway, I guess the smell thing is so potent, it sometimes reminds us of things and places even when we're already there. Or perhaps it's the smelling them for the first time after not smelling them because the smells are just that unique to a place that brings some sort of comfort. What I'm getting at is that there are certain smells I didn't realized I had related to Gambia until I left, went to The States, thus not smelling them for a while, then coming back. So I want to take this opportunity to share some of the smells of this tiny country, I have come to recognize on a daily basis. Got your sinuses cleared? No matter, after this, they will be.
Good Smells:
1. Women frying fish heads in oil on neighborhood corners in the evenings.
2. This incense they burn in the little clay pots.
3. Just the burning firewood for daily cooking.
4. Babies lathered in shae butter.
5. Cashew fruit orchards.
6. General WA body odor "musk"
Not So Good Smells:
1. Grass/ donkey poop burning
2. Fishing ports
Hope you enjoyed a little updated tour of the Gambia, as seen through they eyes of an "old" PCV now. The new trainees came on Thursday and tonight is the get together at the "Come INN" where everyone gets to meet each other.
Miss you guys tons, just like usual. I uploaded a few pics. Thanks for the emails, letters and packages. They sure do help make and keep me happy!
Love, Courtney
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Where the Pavement Ends
Wowy Zowy, one whole year in The Gambia as a PCV (on the first of Feb, that is)!!!! If I were trying to go to a university, I’d be able to get in-state tuition or something. Where has the time run off to? My whole concept of time has changed since joining the Peace Corps in Gambia. For one, school semesters seem really short. Can you really cram all that knowledge in a 3 month period? Guess so; it sure did feel like enough at the time. Two weeks vacation for a whole year? What the heck can you do and where can you go with that? I can blink my eyes here and two weeks will have passed. I’m ruined from ever working within a traditional American working time scheme. When we first learned about the differences in the concept of time here, I thought there’d be no way I’d be able to adjust, given my personality and type-A habits. But slowly slowly, I’ve become adjusted to this polychronic pace of life, and frankly, I sort of enjoy it. Things still manage to be accomplished and people in general seem to be in pretty high spirits. I’d be interested in reading a comparative study on burnout or depression between the two types of work environments.
I’m back in the swing of things and have adjusted to my schedule in Gambia better than I expected. But I suppose spending 10 months in one place will help you in that area. Over the course of a few days, I distributed my sila fando to the families in my compound, my 10 Sisters Kafoo and a few folks at Allatentu. I had printed a bunch of photos and those, by far, were the favorites. It appears that with the gift of a thousand words, the language of the picture translates universally. I wish I had printed even more.
Allatentu is keeping me busy, as usual. We’re rounding up the Accelerated Funds Grant so we’re working on compiling a final report and budget to send to them detailing the programs carried out and the ways it help improve the Center and its members. We’re discussing areas from which to re-program funds, such as extending monthly support meetings and doing another round of tie and dye, to make sure the funds are successfully and appropriately spent. The Jalibah fundraising concert, the big, pink elephant in the room, has once again been re-scheduled for March 16th. Hives have been placed and are starting to be colonized on the farm land, as according to the beekeeping calendar, so they can expect a first harvest in March, if all goes well. We’ll be compiling info for another grant as soon as the report is submitted. One thing at a time seems to be the philosophy that works best around here.
The new trainees arrive Feb 7th, to replace those COSing in April, that that will be fun to meet the new crowd and possibly help with their training a bit.
Mid Feb is the annual softball tournament between West African PC country volunteers, known as WAIST. So a bunch of us signed up to be on competitive or non-competitive teams and will bottleneck our way north, like a bunch of Plink-O chips clinking their way to the $10,000 slot, to the bustling metropolitan known as Dakar, Senegal. I’m excited to compare it to little, ol Banjul and see what kind of development has taken place in a larger developing West African country. I hear there are pastry bakeries and even an Ethiopian restaurant.
I hosted a little dinner party with some site mates last weekend. It was nice to play that role again and use that time to pick each other’s minds about future plans and ever changing ideas on how to live ones life; especially with the influence of experiencing certain things since joining an organization like Peace Corps. I made a 3 bean sort of stew from beans and spices from care packages and salsa from veggies in the market. Others brought wine and juice and my belated b-day present from a good friend, full of homemade chocolate chip cookies couldn’t have arrived at a more opportune time. Everyone gobbled them up. Thanks, girl!
I’ve been running quite a bit lately and breaking that up with some bike rides. The other day I biked all the way to “where the sidewalk ends”. Well, to where the pavement ends and the dusty pot-holed part of the South bank road begins. I passed some magnificent mahogany trees sheltering villager’s garden plots and the whole site was breathtaking; humbling me to realize how small we humans are in this land, yet what a proportionally large role we play in contributing positively and negatively to it all
I finally managed to weed my little flower bed last weekend. It always seems to be a spectacle for the neighborhood kids and I was quickly surrounded by a bunch confused why I was uprooting the corn?! Corn? I hadn’t planted any before I left for the States. Wild flowers, yes. Corn, no. I was uprooting the flower that hadn’t flowered yet, I said. Now, I was pulling up the corn that you can eat, they said. I had to admit, it did look like corn, not wild flowers at all. So I stopped and that appeased everyone. Turns out some kids threw some corn kernels and seeds over the fence of what now appears to be a little neighborhood garden (given the whole tomato stint and all). I’m fine with that. I even pulled up a “weed” that turned out to be a carrot, so I tried to pretend like I hadn’t disturbed it by sticking it right back in the earth. My moringa, on the other hand, has yet to take in the pots (since my host mom thinks they’ll turn into big trees, which after 20 years, they will. Man, they’re some ugly knobbly-looking trees, too. She won’t let me plant them close to the house). I need to ask for more seeds from the Ag-fo APCD, and perhaps even poly pot a few flowers I’ve got my eyes on from around the neighborhood.
A newly updated wish list (though not much has really changed):
*Letters
*MP3 music and books CDs (I’ve finally figured out how to upload the stuff on my own using one of the volunteer comps here)
*DVDs with movies and episodes of Office starting with season 3 and Greys season 4
*Veggie and flower seeds
*Skittles, Starbursts, Laffy Taffy (finally after a whole year, I’m less interested in the M&Is)
*Tootsie rolls (original and fruity flavored)
*Twix, Kit Kat and 100 Grand
*Dried fruit mixes
*Turkey Jerky
*Triscuits, Wheat Thins and other salty snack foods
I’m back in the swing of things and have adjusted to my schedule in Gambia better than I expected. But I suppose spending 10 months in one place will help you in that area. Over the course of a few days, I distributed my sila fando to the families in my compound, my 10 Sisters Kafoo and a few folks at Allatentu. I had printed a bunch of photos and those, by far, were the favorites. It appears that with the gift of a thousand words, the language of the picture translates universally. I wish I had printed even more.
Allatentu is keeping me busy, as usual. We’re rounding up the Accelerated Funds Grant so we’re working on compiling a final report and budget to send to them detailing the programs carried out and the ways it help improve the Center and its members. We’re discussing areas from which to re-program funds, such as extending monthly support meetings and doing another round of tie and dye, to make sure the funds are successfully and appropriately spent. The Jalibah fundraising concert, the big, pink elephant in the room, has once again been re-scheduled for March 16th. Hives have been placed and are starting to be colonized on the farm land, as according to the beekeeping calendar, so they can expect a first harvest in March, if all goes well. We’ll be compiling info for another grant as soon as the report is submitted. One thing at a time seems to be the philosophy that works best around here.
The new trainees arrive Feb 7th, to replace those COSing in April, that that will be fun to meet the new crowd and possibly help with their training a bit.
Mid Feb is the annual softball tournament between West African PC country volunteers, known as WAIST. So a bunch of us signed up to be on competitive or non-competitive teams and will bottleneck our way north, like a bunch of Plink-O chips clinking their way to the $10,000 slot, to the bustling metropolitan known as Dakar, Senegal. I’m excited to compare it to little, ol Banjul and see what kind of development has taken place in a larger developing West African country. I hear there are pastry bakeries and even an Ethiopian restaurant.
I hosted a little dinner party with some site mates last weekend. It was nice to play that role again and use that time to pick each other’s minds about future plans and ever changing ideas on how to live ones life; especially with the influence of experiencing certain things since joining an organization like Peace Corps. I made a 3 bean sort of stew from beans and spices from care packages and salsa from veggies in the market. Others brought wine and juice and my belated b-day present from a good friend, full of homemade chocolate chip cookies couldn’t have arrived at a more opportune time. Everyone gobbled them up. Thanks, girl!
I’ve been running quite a bit lately and breaking that up with some bike rides. The other day I biked all the way to “where the sidewalk ends”. Well, to where the pavement ends and the dusty pot-holed part of the South bank road begins. I passed some magnificent mahogany trees sheltering villager’s garden plots and the whole site was breathtaking; humbling me to realize how small we humans are in this land, yet what a proportionally large role we play in contributing positively and negatively to it all
I finally managed to weed my little flower bed last weekend. It always seems to be a spectacle for the neighborhood kids and I was quickly surrounded by a bunch confused why I was uprooting the corn?! Corn? I hadn’t planted any before I left for the States. Wild flowers, yes. Corn, no. I was uprooting the flower that hadn’t flowered yet, I said. Now, I was pulling up the corn that you can eat, they said. I had to admit, it did look like corn, not wild flowers at all. So I stopped and that appeased everyone. Turns out some kids threw some corn kernels and seeds over the fence of what now appears to be a little neighborhood garden (given the whole tomato stint and all). I’m fine with that. I even pulled up a “weed” that turned out to be a carrot, so I tried to pretend like I hadn’t disturbed it by sticking it right back in the earth. My moringa, on the other hand, has yet to take in the pots (since my host mom thinks they’ll turn into big trees, which after 20 years, they will. Man, they’re some ugly knobbly-looking trees, too. She won’t let me plant them close to the house). I need to ask for more seeds from the Ag-fo APCD, and perhaps even poly pot a few flowers I’ve got my eyes on from around the neighborhood.
A newly updated wish list (though not much has really changed):
*Letters
*MP3 music and books CDs (I’ve finally figured out how to upload the stuff on my own using one of the volunteer comps here)
*DVDs with movies and episodes of Office starting with season 3 and Greys season 4
*Veggie and flower seeds
*Skittles, Starbursts, Laffy Taffy (finally after a whole year, I’m less interested in the M&Is)
*Tootsie rolls (original and fruity flavored)
*Twix, Kit Kat and 100 Grand
*Dried fruit mixes
*Turkey Jerky
*Triscuits, Wheat Thins and other salty snack foods
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
It's a small world afterall
What do you get when you cross a jet-lagged lady with a word processing machine without the Internet? The first blog entry in over 2 months…
So, I’m back in The Gambia after about 24 hours of traveling. It’s been worse. I was actually dreading the sight of Terminal B at Brussels International Airport like PCVs dread the Bumsters at the height of the tourist season (which is in the present). But the entire place was so crowded with lines like I’d never seen and my layover wasn’t that long, that I barely had enough time to contemplate spending 2 Euros on a coffee before I found myself head bobbing for some zzzs on the last leg of my flight. Something was shining down on me that evening because what normally would have been a huge hassle and unnecessarily expensive taxi ride back to the Peace Corps hostel turned into a Kodak moment of a reunion between a fellow PCV and her generous parents, with whom I shared the public transport. I can’t thank you all enough!! It’s been a pretty good first couple of days (granted I haven’t really left the hostel) but other fellow PCVs from my group are staying here for various reasons and it feels comforting to be welcomed with such enthusiasm (and share my suitcase full of American food) with people who were complete strangers about a year ago.
First of all, though, I want to take a few sentences to thank the folks who made it all possible, in more than one way if you really want to get into it. (It all may sound a little cliché or like I’m writing an acceptance speech or something, but bear with me because it’s polite and I mean it). I just wanted to thank you again, Mom, Dad and Lydia for providing me with unconditional love and support throughout this past year and really for my entire life. I’m not sure if I’d be able to carry out this “adventure” without it. I can only hope that I am providing the same to you all, as well.
It feels a little strange to try to re-cap the experience in the States (after all, you guys are pretty familiar with that culture), but I guess it might be a little entertaining to describe a few instances that stand out in my mind, from the point of view of someone who hasn’t gotten behind the wheel or worn socks in about a year.
Event #1- Chicago O’Hare International Airport:
I guess I’m not sure if it was the shock of seeing an actual trash can that came all the way up to my hip (with trash inside), or the surprisingly sweet aroma of coffee (that I later realized was actually wafting from within the trash can), but I found myself standing next to it for the duration of the time I waited to board the last leg of my flight to DFW. All of a sudden a “thump” from the can awoke me from my stimuli-overload reverie. When I casually glanced inside, I realized that the girl sitting closest to it, who was waiting to board the plane at the next gate, had thrown away about $6 of glossy-bound paper, known to you as maybe entertainment trash (probably in more than one way), but to me as my next in-flight reading material. Yep, as soon as she got up to board her flight, I did the ol’ shifty-eyed quick glance around and pulled out the brand new, completely un-affected by spilled coffee, women’s magazine that gave me new color-schemed decorating ideas, winter fashion faux pas and up-to-date tips on scoring a seat at the hippest club, not to mention the guy at the bar! Man! What would I have done with out all that advice?!
Event #2- Surprise visit to my sister’s graduation; Universal Studios, Disney World:
I think this one pretty much explains itself. My advice? Try to avoid 200 feet renditions of King Kong after living in West Africa.
But truly, she was completely surprised to see me (she thought I’d be in Dallas when she and the parents came back from her graduation a few days later) and I was really proud to see her in her element and all she’d accomplished over the past few years. She’s been so supportive of my endeavors, it was one of the few things I could have done; to watch her cross that stage to take her next step to the wide open options with which this world presents.
Event #3- Meeting my best girl-friend’s son as a toddler:
I got to see momma at her work, but the little guy was already in bed when I eventually made it to their place to settle in for the night. The sight of toys scattered neatly in a corner and colorful foam letters plastered to the side of the bath tub threw me off as I brushed my teeth and got ready for bed alone in a house previously associated with evenings of movie entertainment and tasty mixed drinks (which after staying there most of the duration of my time in Norman, I can say those associations will remain, with the addition of a little live entertainment as well J). The next morning, I woke to sounds of father and son sharing precious morning time learning how to stack blocks, but probably learning more about each other in the process. When I saw Mr. Man for the first time again, I had to compose myself quickly so as not to frighten the two them. The last thing I wanted was for this kid to meet this crazy crying lady. All of a sudden I was imagining two of us wailing instead of just one, most likely confusing all parties invloved, poor dad. Composed semi-successfully, the three of us returned big plastic letters to the farm house through corresponding plastic letter cut-outs and pulled apart big Legos known to me from my childhood as Duplos until it was time for him to go play with kids his own age.
Event #4- Hanging with the Moose:
The dog was pretty much attached at my hip the whole time. I was afraid he wouldn’t remember me, but after that first run, we were back on track, taking commands from each other and fighting for space in the bed. We went to Arkansas on a climbing trip for a long weekend and played Frisbee almost every day.
I was browsing in the local record store in Norman towards the end of my visit and could have sworn the artist throw out the name “Roscoe”. I didn’t think anything of it then and I wasn’t even convinced that I heard correctly. Then, on my car ride to Dallas; just the two of us, I was playing an MP3 CD my friend randomly threw together and that song came on, except I couldn’t place where I’d heard it previously. But the rental car I was driving was so fancy; it even displayed the title of the songs being played, which confirmed what I thought I had heard the first time in the record store. It was absurdly appropriate. THEN, I was flipping through my MP3 player, which my other friend had uploaded new artist on, and guess which album appeared? Roscoe was destined to travel with me back to Gambia, if only through lyrics of a song and many cute photos. He was one of the hardest to say goodbye to (literally and figuratively), as he kept avoiding my hugs at the airport.
I’m really happy that I got to see so many of your faces and spend time at the local spots I’ve reminisced about since leaving. It was neat to observe that, although time has passed and things and people have changed, those changes still allow for old friends to re-connect, while sort of challenging the time elapsed. It also allows for widening your circle and letting new people and ideas in, which I am truly grateful for. As long as both people are up for the challenge, good people will probably remain in your life for a long time.
So, I’m back in The Gambia after about 24 hours of traveling. It’s been worse. I was actually dreading the sight of Terminal B at Brussels International Airport like PCVs dread the Bumsters at the height of the tourist season (which is in the present). But the entire place was so crowded with lines like I’d never seen and my layover wasn’t that long, that I barely had enough time to contemplate spending 2 Euros on a coffee before I found myself head bobbing for some zzzs on the last leg of my flight. Something was shining down on me that evening because what normally would have been a huge hassle and unnecessarily expensive taxi ride back to the Peace Corps hostel turned into a Kodak moment of a reunion between a fellow PCV and her generous parents, with whom I shared the public transport. I can’t thank you all enough!! It’s been a pretty good first couple of days (granted I haven’t really left the hostel) but other fellow PCVs from my group are staying here for various reasons and it feels comforting to be welcomed with such enthusiasm (and share my suitcase full of American food) with people who were complete strangers about a year ago.
First of all, though, I want to take a few sentences to thank the folks who made it all possible, in more than one way if you really want to get into it. (It all may sound a little cliché or like I’m writing an acceptance speech or something, but bear with me because it’s polite and I mean it). I just wanted to thank you again, Mom, Dad and Lydia for providing me with unconditional love and support throughout this past year and really for my entire life. I’m not sure if I’d be able to carry out this “adventure” without it. I can only hope that I am providing the same to you all, as well.
It feels a little strange to try to re-cap the experience in the States (after all, you guys are pretty familiar with that culture), but I guess it might be a little entertaining to describe a few instances that stand out in my mind, from the point of view of someone who hasn’t gotten behind the wheel or worn socks in about a year.
Event #1- Chicago O’Hare International Airport:
I guess I’m not sure if it was the shock of seeing an actual trash can that came all the way up to my hip (with trash inside), or the surprisingly sweet aroma of coffee (that I later realized was actually wafting from within the trash can), but I found myself standing next to it for the duration of the time I waited to board the last leg of my flight to DFW. All of a sudden a “thump” from the can awoke me from my stimuli-overload reverie. When I casually glanced inside, I realized that the girl sitting closest to it, who was waiting to board the plane at the next gate, had thrown away about $6 of glossy-bound paper, known to you as maybe entertainment trash (probably in more than one way), but to me as my next in-flight reading material. Yep, as soon as she got up to board her flight, I did the ol’ shifty-eyed quick glance around and pulled out the brand new, completely un-affected by spilled coffee, women’s magazine that gave me new color-schemed decorating ideas, winter fashion faux pas and up-to-date tips on scoring a seat at the hippest club, not to mention the guy at the bar! Man! What would I have done with out all that advice?!
Event #2- Surprise visit to my sister’s graduation; Universal Studios, Disney World:
I think this one pretty much explains itself. My advice? Try to avoid 200 feet renditions of King Kong after living in West Africa.
But truly, she was completely surprised to see me (she thought I’d be in Dallas when she and the parents came back from her graduation a few days later) and I was really proud to see her in her element and all she’d accomplished over the past few years. She’s been so supportive of my endeavors, it was one of the few things I could have done; to watch her cross that stage to take her next step to the wide open options with which this world presents.
Event #3- Meeting my best girl-friend’s son as a toddler:
I got to see momma at her work, but the little guy was already in bed when I eventually made it to their place to settle in for the night. The sight of toys scattered neatly in a corner and colorful foam letters plastered to the side of the bath tub threw me off as I brushed my teeth and got ready for bed alone in a house previously associated with evenings of movie entertainment and tasty mixed drinks (which after staying there most of the duration of my time in Norman, I can say those associations will remain, with the addition of a little live entertainment as well J). The next morning, I woke to sounds of father and son sharing precious morning time learning how to stack blocks, but probably learning more about each other in the process. When I saw Mr. Man for the first time again, I had to compose myself quickly so as not to frighten the two them. The last thing I wanted was for this kid to meet this crazy crying lady. All of a sudden I was imagining two of us wailing instead of just one, most likely confusing all parties invloved, poor dad. Composed semi-successfully, the three of us returned big plastic letters to the farm house through corresponding plastic letter cut-outs and pulled apart big Legos known to me from my childhood as Duplos until it was time for him to go play with kids his own age.
Event #4- Hanging with the Moose:
The dog was pretty much attached at my hip the whole time. I was afraid he wouldn’t remember me, but after that first run, we were back on track, taking commands from each other and fighting for space in the bed. We went to Arkansas on a climbing trip for a long weekend and played Frisbee almost every day.
I was browsing in the local record store in Norman towards the end of my visit and could have sworn the artist throw out the name “Roscoe”. I didn’t think anything of it then and I wasn’t even convinced that I heard correctly. Then, on my car ride to Dallas; just the two of us, I was playing an MP3 CD my friend randomly threw together and that song came on, except I couldn’t place where I’d heard it previously. But the rental car I was driving was so fancy; it even displayed the title of the songs being played, which confirmed what I thought I had heard the first time in the record store. It was absurdly appropriate. THEN, I was flipping through my MP3 player, which my other friend had uploaded new artist on, and guess which album appeared? Roscoe was destined to travel with me back to Gambia, if only through lyrics of a song and many cute photos. He was one of the hardest to say goodbye to (literally and figuratively), as he kept avoiding my hugs at the airport.
I’m really happy that I got to see so many of your faces and spend time at the local spots I’ve reminisced about since leaving. It was neat to observe that, although time has passed and things and people have changed, those changes still allow for old friends to re-connect, while sort of challenging the time elapsed. It also allows for widening your circle and letting new people and ideas in, which I am truly grateful for. As long as both people are up for the challenge, good people will probably remain in your life for a long time.
P.S. I've been uploading pics over the last month, so there may be some new ones...
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
"Eat My Dust", and Other Gambian Hungry Season Nutritional Supplements
So, all this time, I've been pining away for a piece of Norman's fall foliage and autumn awesomeness when it turns out a bit of the Sooner State had been under my nose (well more like under my feet and actually up my nose, and distastefully in my mouth) all along! Turns out Native America is not the only place on this green earth that minerals red dirt. But more on this later...
Dry season is once again official upon us. The last time we saw the rains was about a month ago, at the end of Ramadan. Although I don't anticipate my little corner of this little country AKA, Western Region, especially Brikama, to bear the brunt of what has been termed by aid workers and the like as the "hungry season", I do believe we'll be observing changes in food bowls and probably even behaviors after the holiday of Tobaski, (where the bank is all but broke on sacrificing the holiest affordable 4 legged animal, from ram, sheep, male goat, female goat, camel or up to 7 people can go in on purchasing a steer or cow) which takes place on Dec 20th or 21st this year. From about the end of may through just about a month a go mangoes hung like monkeys from the trees and you couldn't walk around a corner without passing a kiddo with mango juice dripping from her mango stuffed mouth, filling the belly in between meals and secretly satisfying her daily requirements of vitamins A & C. It's exciting to witness the seasonal crops and anticipate what will come next, while holding back tears when your mango turned avocado market lady is now your corn lady only one ephemeral month later!! Excitingly and surprisingly convenient, watermelon season is still going strong which allowed some create, Halloween obsessed PCVs to fulfill their carving craving and goal 2 of Peace Corps in one go. Oranges are making their debut again as well as some fancy looking tomatoes and potatoes. Bananas heed a pretty steady supply year round, but you can really tell the hard times are about to be unveiled when Gambia’s staple crop, the groundnut, is ready for harvest. One of my first memories present of this 2 seasoned country is of the women sitting around punching the shells with their thumbs on their floor mats, so systematically, yet with a carelessness that illustrated a commencement of this daily dry season task probably just as they were weaned to feed themselves.
I can’t believe this Thursday is Thanksgiving. The 90 degree heat won’t allow my brain to lend to that fact. PC Gambia has a pretty good sense of the potential upheaval the loneliness of celebrating holidays in village and has conveniently scheduled a mandatory all volunteer meeting as well as the 40th anniversary of PC existing in Gambia with an optional Thanksgiving celebration. My health group upped the notch in this weekend excitement by declaring a regional “asobee” competition, where volunteers from the 5 regions pick out a fabric they feel represents their region, with which a tailor will make an outfit out of this, so everyone from that region will be dressed in the same fabric for the 40th anniversary meal. After a little contemplating and purusing of the market, we found this blue fabric with spoons and forks all over.
Since WR is by far the coolest (figuratively and literally) region in the country- represented with the blue background and definitely cooks the best food bowls- represented by the spoons and forks, we couldn't’t pass it up. Well, that and the fabric guy gave us a pretty good deal and there was a lot of the pattern to go around. So the slogan is something like this: “Staying cool and well fed in the WR”. Pictures and results to come.
But back to what I was stating before. Even though a lot of families in WR eat better than those in the provinces, hunger and malnutrition, especially among pregnant women and children under 5, is still present and I wouldn't be surprised if that saying “always 2 weeks away from a famine” could be applicable to this West African country during the dry season, as well. I don’t know; I’m just speculating, but it might be possible. I know of some volunteers who feel so guilty about buying food to supplement their diets that they hide the “grocery bags” in their backpacks before they head back to their families. Every sliver of food parcel present in a group is precisely split to distribute to anyone present. I definitely rethink even buying a ½ loaf of bread at the bitik and walking in to my host family’s evening TV watching hour if I don’t plan to tear off enough for those sitting around.
What I’m getting at is this: Thanksgiving is a wonderful day to look forward to. It represents many traditions, including the gathering of friends and family to partake in the horn of plenty. I hope this Thanksgiving is filled with lots of love, changing colored leaves, little ones acting like yard apes, big ones showing them up in the same department, and Mom’s broccoli rice casserole. But keep in mind that not everyone gets a piece of that plenty. Maybe even that guy you seem to pass almost weekly walking his dog down the street. Take care and prepare your dishes with love, but only as much as you and your guests can consume (with the appropriate left over days accounted for of course!). If you've made too much, look up your local shelter’s # in the phone book and drop off a doggie bag on the way to Aunt Carol’s place. If you’ve got a few hours to kill, then stay and lend a hand. You might just be thankful you did it.
Alright, alright, red dirt, green earth; Gambia, Oklahoma. No rain = lots of dust and I went running yesterday down my new favorite path, part of which consists of the exact color of red clay found in OK, which mad me a little teary-eyed. Wait, no, that was the gele-gele stirring it up as it puttered past, after which redness hovers in the air long enough for me to run through about 100 meters, getting it in my eyes, giving my skin the appearance of a salon-fresh self-tanning mist, and yep, you guessed it, I ate that gele’s dust. Oh well, guess it’s all just a little more food for thought…
Happy Thanksgiving!
Dry season is once again official upon us. The last time we saw the rains was about a month ago, at the end of Ramadan. Although I don't anticipate my little corner of this little country AKA, Western Region, especially Brikama, to bear the brunt of what has been termed by aid workers and the like as the "hungry season", I do believe we'll be observing changes in food bowls and probably even behaviors after the holiday of Tobaski, (where the bank is all but broke on sacrificing the holiest affordable 4 legged animal, from ram, sheep, male goat, female goat, camel or up to 7 people can go in on purchasing a steer or cow) which takes place on Dec 20th or 21st this year. From about the end of may through just about a month a go mangoes hung like monkeys from the trees and you couldn't walk around a corner without passing a kiddo with mango juice dripping from her mango stuffed mouth, filling the belly in between meals and secretly satisfying her daily requirements of vitamins A & C. It's exciting to witness the seasonal crops and anticipate what will come next, while holding back tears when your mango turned avocado market lady is now your corn lady only one ephemeral month later!! Excitingly and surprisingly convenient, watermelon season is still going strong which allowed some create, Halloween obsessed PCVs to fulfill their carving craving and goal 2 of Peace Corps in one go. Oranges are making their debut again as well as some fancy looking tomatoes and potatoes. Bananas heed a pretty steady supply year round, but you can really tell the hard times are about to be unveiled when Gambia’s staple crop, the groundnut, is ready for harvest. One of my first memories present of this 2 seasoned country is of the women sitting around punching the shells with their thumbs on their floor mats, so systematically, yet with a carelessness that illustrated a commencement of this daily dry season task probably just as they were weaned to feed themselves.
I can’t believe this Thursday is Thanksgiving. The 90 degree heat won’t allow my brain to lend to that fact. PC Gambia has a pretty good sense of the potential upheaval the loneliness of celebrating holidays in village and has conveniently scheduled a mandatory all volunteer meeting as well as the 40th anniversary of PC existing in Gambia with an optional Thanksgiving celebration. My health group upped the notch in this weekend excitement by declaring a regional “asobee” competition, where volunteers from the 5 regions pick out a fabric they feel represents their region, with which a tailor will make an outfit out of this, so everyone from that region will be dressed in the same fabric for the 40th anniversary meal. After a little contemplating and purusing of the market, we found this blue fabric with spoons and forks all over.
Since WR is by far the coolest (figuratively and literally) region in the country- represented with the blue background and definitely cooks the best food bowls- represented by the spoons and forks, we couldn't’t pass it up. Well, that and the fabric guy gave us a pretty good deal and there was a lot of the pattern to go around. So the slogan is something like this: “Staying cool and well fed in the WR”. Pictures and results to come.
But back to what I was stating before. Even though a lot of families in WR eat better than those in the provinces, hunger and malnutrition, especially among pregnant women and children under 5, is still present and I wouldn't be surprised if that saying “always 2 weeks away from a famine” could be applicable to this West African country during the dry season, as well. I don’t know; I’m just speculating, but it might be possible. I know of some volunteers who feel so guilty about buying food to supplement their diets that they hide the “grocery bags” in their backpacks before they head back to their families. Every sliver of food parcel present in a group is precisely split to distribute to anyone present. I definitely rethink even buying a ½ loaf of bread at the bitik and walking in to my host family’s evening TV watching hour if I don’t plan to tear off enough for those sitting around.
What I’m getting at is this: Thanksgiving is a wonderful day to look forward to. It represents many traditions, including the gathering of friends and family to partake in the horn of plenty. I hope this Thanksgiving is filled with lots of love, changing colored leaves, little ones acting like yard apes, big ones showing them up in the same department, and Mom’s broccoli rice casserole. But keep in mind that not everyone gets a piece of that plenty. Maybe even that guy you seem to pass almost weekly walking his dog down the street. Take care and prepare your dishes with love, but only as much as you and your guests can consume (with the appropriate left over days accounted for of course!). If you've made too much, look up your local shelter’s # in the phone book and drop off a doggie bag on the way to Aunt Carol’s place. If you’ve got a few hours to kill, then stay and lend a hand. You might just be thankful you did it.
Alright, alright, red dirt, green earth; Gambia, Oklahoma. No rain = lots of dust and I went running yesterday down my new favorite path, part of which consists of the exact color of red clay found in OK, which mad me a little teary-eyed. Wait, no, that was the gele-gele stirring it up as it puttered past, after which redness hovers in the air long enough for me to run through about 100 meters, getting it in my eyes, giving my skin the appearance of a salon-fresh self-tanning mist, and yep, you guessed it, I ate that gele’s dust. Oh well, guess it’s all just a little more food for thought…
Happy Thanksgiving!
Monday, October 29, 2007
Did it rain sand last night? You could have fooled me Mr. November.
Have I told you about Awa Touray? Meet my favorite Wolof woman in Brikama. She sells me sweet groundnut treats and homemade coconut balls. She disappeared for a few months about 4 months ago, but now she's back. I greet her in Wolof, then order in Mandinka. We have that same system as my other tiyo-futo woman where, when I bring my own bag, she loads me up on extra goodies. Her stand is far away from the market, almost to the junction that splits the South Bank road with the market road (also known as "Jalibah Junction" for the Mandinka Kora player who lives around there). It's a win-win-win(win) situation all around, because no matter what kind of day I'm having, it always gets a little better if I pass her stand. It also give me an excuse to take a different path home, and sometimes life just calls for taking that different path. I get my sweet fix for the day, she gets her business and saves on a bag, and most of my site mates are now satisfied-Awa Touray-customers as well. My last stop, after saying goodbyes to host family and neighbors before catching my plane to Greece was Mrs. Touray's Savory and Sweet stand. I think I bought about D30 (each piece is D1) worth to take for people in Greece to try the stuff. I told her I was taking them for my friends in Europe and she insisted on stuffing a few more in the bag. Lucky for Erica, my layover wasn't any longer, but still she was the only other person to enjoy them since pretty much only the crumbs were left upon arriving and settling into camping on the river. Entrepreneur, innovator, mother and friend; Awa Touray is one inspirational Gambian woman you'll want to befriend in an instant and will have no problem remembering for a life time.
Well dang! It's amazing what a difference a little funding does for the development for a small little support group. Glad I paid attention in that grant writing class! So what we've got here is funding from UNAIDS to carry out designated programs for a 5 month period which started September 07 and will go through January 08. As the "program officer" of Allatentu, it's looking like I've got my work cut out for me these days. It took a little adjusting at first from the more leisure life I was leading pre-Greece, but I realized I'm an American creature of productivity, so bring it on! What exactly am I doing these days? Well, being computer literate pretty much automatically brings a whole slew of responsibilities. It means, as the PO, I'm responsible for creating any computer generated documents such as meeting agendas, meeting minutes, executive members salary contracts, monthly reports to UNAIDS, the "5 month grant Action Plan", etc. I serve as the liaison between ASK and the country rep of UNAIDS, as well as Hands on Care, which helps govern the progress and the flow of the dough. I'm present at both executive and board meetings for ASK, as well as bi-weekly staff meetings with HOC to report the group's progress. I'm involved in cash $$$$ FLOW! requests but make sure to involve the groups designated accounts clerk and secretary to distribute responsibility.
Besides the consuming activity of working towards helping Allatentu run effectively as its own business-like entity, complete with a daily opened and staffed center where members should feel welcome and ideally tea and coffee should never run dry, ASK members continually intrigue me with their desire to involve themselves with innovative projects. When I first visited ASK about 7 months ago, they were being trained in soap making. But why stop there? In a two-part four day training, members will learn the exotic art of tie & dye, a unique Gambian trade for income generating. Last week they produced these vibrant colored bed sheets and curtains. This weekend they are learning "Batik" which is another form used more for clothes, in which the ties and dyes are more concentrated. At the next general monthly meeting, they will showcase and sell their work at the Center for people such as HOC staff, family and friends.
Remember that land designated for the cashew orchard? (They are germinating nicely, but have yet to be transplanted). Apparently fruit trees and bee keeping goes hand and hand, thus ASK is now a member of the National Bee Keepers Association- Gambia and in the preliminary stages of figuring out its training logistics involving our members as well as Busura (the name of the village where the land is) community members.
But as the locals say, it's not easy here in Gambia, so when our Jalibah concert Action Committee learned of his traveling, thus once again delaying our RIDICULOUSLY drawn out plan for a memorial/ fundraising concert, this time just days prior to sending out invitations, I was put back in my place. I remembered exactly where I was, in a primarily Muslim country where another popular phrase is "in Sh Allah- God's will" and it just seems as if that dang concert in not in that will! At any rate, since several deposits have been paid, it would be a shame for a concert not to take place, so the idea will not disseminate, just once again, be postponed...
The weeks continue to accumulate at haste. A few weekends ago, I found myself prepared to run a 10K in Banjul, organized by the African Union Commission for Human Rights, only to realize that such organization still operates on the more leisure time schedule. Not up for waking up at the crack of dawn for a race? Then the AU 10K is for you because after standing around for 2 hours, at 10am and only about 15 runners strong, there was little sign of it beginning any time soon. After all, the parade said to be heading off the race hadn't even begun!! That said, the sun wasn't getting any cooler and the runners with whom I came decided to have our own "I'm an impatient toubab with other things to do on this Sunday" 10K. I still don't even know what came of that race.
I can't remember if I mentioned this in a previous blog, so forgive me if this is old news, but it's pretty cute so worth writing about again anyway. One evening, before I left for Greece, I was sitting around chatting with the peeps in the compound. Keep in mind, chatting for me, still means a lot of observing, or conversing with the young school aged girls that frequent Camara Kunda. They were trying to tell me something that I didn't quite get until my host sister was able to repeat it enough that I finally realized they were telling me they wanted me to be their kafoo mother. Kafoo, just like in Allatentu Support Kafoo (ASK), is the Mandinka word for group. It's often referred to as a group within the same age range or common interest, such as a women's group involved in soap making or, my example, these young neighborhood girls. So anyway, after that little announcement on their behalf, I was on cloud nine for the rest of the day. I hadn't realized that my presence and minimal participation in the evening bouts of rope games had made that much of an impact on them. I told them they needed to come up with a group name, so the next day they informed me that I was now the mother of "Ten Sisters". Fast forward to getting back from Greece and trying to settle back in to Allatentu's routine. They'd asked a few times what days I didn't have to go to work because they wanted come over and chat. We agreed on last Sunday at 4pm just inside the compound. They said they'd bring the lai (the condensed milk and sugar version of brewing attaya-the green tea that the guys brew) and we'd sing and dance. I'd had in my mind for several weeks that they'd be the perfect group to show how to make this mosquito cream repellent out of local ingredients, so I mentioned that we'd do that too. It was surprisingly successful, from the gathering of Neem tree leaves, to the grating of the soap, to the dividing up the cream and explaining how and when to use it. As the sun went down and the girls went home to pray, it was understood that this would become a fairly routine event.
Other ways I seem to be spending my all-of-a-sudden-coveted free time:
*Grasping on to the familiar past time of karaoke. One of the few things I will thank the tourist industry for.
*Cleaning my house. It tends to be a lengthy process, but the end product makes the sun shine brighter.
*Doing laundry. I dread it at the beginning of the process, start enjoying the mindless work mid way through and am completely elated to be hanging them up on the line by the time I'm finished.
*Catching up on my world news via month old "Newsweeks".
*Perusing the market for stylish accessories such as bangles, earrings, hip hair bands and Christmas presents.
*Thinking about weeding the flowerbed that is overgrown with fruitless tomato plants.
*Getting in that evening exercise.
*Hosting dinner parties. As much work as they are, the company's great and it just plain sucks cooking for one.
*Reading. What happened to my summer book club book supply?
*Day dreaming about what it will be like to visit with you guys in a few months!
Can't wait to hear about your Halloween stories (mine was non-existent :(, rock gym grand openings, birthday parties and other good times.
Check out the Flickr site when you get a chance, too...
Well dang! It's amazing what a difference a little funding does for the development for a small little support group. Glad I paid attention in that grant writing class! So what we've got here is funding from UNAIDS to carry out designated programs for a 5 month period which started September 07 and will go through January 08. As the "program officer" of Allatentu, it's looking like I've got my work cut out for me these days. It took a little adjusting at first from the more leisure life I was leading pre-Greece, but I realized I'm an American creature of productivity, so bring it on! What exactly am I doing these days? Well, being computer literate pretty much automatically brings a whole slew of responsibilities. It means, as the PO, I'm responsible for creating any computer generated documents such as meeting agendas, meeting minutes, executive members salary contracts, monthly reports to UNAIDS, the "5 month grant Action Plan", etc. I serve as the liaison between ASK and the country rep of UNAIDS, as well as Hands on Care, which helps govern the progress and the flow of the dough. I'm present at both executive and board meetings for ASK, as well as bi-weekly staff meetings with HOC to report the group's progress. I'm involved in cash $$$$ FLOW! requests but make sure to involve the groups designated accounts clerk and secretary to distribute responsibility.
Besides the consuming activity of working towards helping Allatentu run effectively as its own business-like entity, complete with a daily opened and staffed center where members should feel welcome and ideally tea and coffee should never run dry, ASK members continually intrigue me with their desire to involve themselves with innovative projects. When I first visited ASK about 7 months ago, they were being trained in soap making. But why stop there? In a two-part four day training, members will learn the exotic art of tie & dye, a unique Gambian trade for income generating. Last week they produced these vibrant colored bed sheets and curtains. This weekend they are learning "Batik" which is another form used more for clothes, in which the ties and dyes are more concentrated. At the next general monthly meeting, they will showcase and sell their work at the Center for people such as HOC staff, family and friends.
Remember that land designated for the cashew orchard? (They are germinating nicely, but have yet to be transplanted). Apparently fruit trees and bee keeping goes hand and hand, thus ASK is now a member of the National Bee Keepers Association- Gambia and in the preliminary stages of figuring out its training logistics involving our members as well as Busura (the name of the village where the land is) community members.
But as the locals say, it's not easy here in Gambia, so when our Jalibah concert Action Committee learned of his traveling, thus once again delaying our RIDICULOUSLY drawn out plan for a memorial/ fundraising concert, this time just days prior to sending out invitations, I was put back in my place. I remembered exactly where I was, in a primarily Muslim country where another popular phrase is "in Sh Allah- God's will" and it just seems as if that dang concert in not in that will! At any rate, since several deposits have been paid, it would be a shame for a concert not to take place, so the idea will not disseminate, just once again, be postponed...
The weeks continue to accumulate at haste. A few weekends ago, I found myself prepared to run a 10K in Banjul, organized by the African Union Commission for Human Rights, only to realize that such organization still operates on the more leisure time schedule. Not up for waking up at the crack of dawn for a race? Then the AU 10K is for you because after standing around for 2 hours, at 10am and only about 15 runners strong, there was little sign of it beginning any time soon. After all, the parade said to be heading off the race hadn't even begun!! That said, the sun wasn't getting any cooler and the runners with whom I came decided to have our own "I'm an impatient toubab with other things to do on this Sunday" 10K. I still don't even know what came of that race.
I can't remember if I mentioned this in a previous blog, so forgive me if this is old news, but it's pretty cute so worth writing about again anyway. One evening, before I left for Greece, I was sitting around chatting with the peeps in the compound. Keep in mind, chatting for me, still means a lot of observing, or conversing with the young school aged girls that frequent Camara Kunda. They were trying to tell me something that I didn't quite get until my host sister was able to repeat it enough that I finally realized they were telling me they wanted me to be their kafoo mother. Kafoo, just like in Allatentu Support Kafoo (ASK), is the Mandinka word for group. It's often referred to as a group within the same age range or common interest, such as a women's group involved in soap making or, my example, these young neighborhood girls. So anyway, after that little announcement on their behalf, I was on cloud nine for the rest of the day. I hadn't realized that my presence and minimal participation in the evening bouts of rope games had made that much of an impact on them. I told them they needed to come up with a group name, so the next day they informed me that I was now the mother of "Ten Sisters". Fast forward to getting back from Greece and trying to settle back in to Allatentu's routine. They'd asked a few times what days I didn't have to go to work because they wanted come over and chat. We agreed on last Sunday at 4pm just inside the compound. They said they'd bring the lai (the condensed milk and sugar version of brewing attaya-the green tea that the guys brew) and we'd sing and dance. I'd had in my mind for several weeks that they'd be the perfect group to show how to make this mosquito cream repellent out of local ingredients, so I mentioned that we'd do that too. It was surprisingly successful, from the gathering of Neem tree leaves, to the grating of the soap, to the dividing up the cream and explaining how and when to use it. As the sun went down and the girls went home to pray, it was understood that this would become a fairly routine event.
Other ways I seem to be spending my all-of-a-sudden-coveted free time:
*Grasping on to the familiar past time of karaoke. One of the few things I will thank the tourist industry for.
*Cleaning my house. It tends to be a lengthy process, but the end product makes the sun shine brighter.
*Doing laundry. I dread it at the beginning of the process, start enjoying the mindless work mid way through and am completely elated to be hanging them up on the line by the time I'm finished.
*Catching up on my world news via month old "Newsweeks".
*Perusing the market for stylish accessories such as bangles, earrings, hip hair bands and Christmas presents.
*Thinking about weeding the flowerbed that is overgrown with fruitless tomato plants.
*Getting in that evening exercise.
*Hosting dinner parties. As much work as they are, the company's great and it just plain sucks cooking for one.
*Reading. What happened to my summer book club book supply?
*Day dreaming about what it will be like to visit with you guys in a few months!
Can't wait to hear about your Halloween stories (mine was non-existent :(, rock gym grand openings, birthday parties and other good times.
Check out the Flickr site when you get a chance, too...
Monday, October 8, 2007
Hey, hey, hey, back in The Republic of The Gambia. Did you guys miss me? Have you ever been to Greece or Crete, specifically? Add it to the list you've made of things to do or places to visit before you leave this world. Scratch that, put it the top of the list. Maybe it had something to do with the immediate anonymity as soon as I stepped off the plane, but probably it was the amazing food and the most beautiful landscape I've ever laid eyes on that makes Greece one of my favorite places on this earth. It was very refreshing for my emotional well being to spend time with a friend from back home and practicing Ashtanga some, too during my stay sure didn't hurt. Erica and I spend a few days in Athens doing the whole Acropolis thing, which was more magnificent than I'd imagined. Then we took a 9 hour overnight ferry ride to Crete and after several bus rides, made it to the town of Plakias, a small touristy town along the coast where we stayed at a rad youth hostel before heading down to camp along the river about 12K away from Plakias. it was a relaxing few weeks of practicing Ashtanga, talking and cooking with locals, river hikes, a visit to the bluest oceans waters I'v
e ever seen and even a little music playing. I was also even able to continue my role as PCV by sharing the Moringa seed with residents along the river. I gave the appropriate literature about the highly nutritional plant and planted a few on my own but gave the rest to plant at their leisure. The tiny gift evoked such a beg response and as if I didn't already have reasons to return, the prospect of seeing the progress of the Moringa growth would be the feta cheese on the toast! it was one of those trips where I didn't feel like I needed a vacation from my vacation upon returning to Gambia. 
But of course it couldn't be ALL paradise. It sort of came crashing down about the time where, on the metro back to the airport, the ticket lady checked my ticket that kept being accepted by the electronic meter and told me I was being fined 80 Euro for using the same ticket ore than once. I must had been holding all my nervous energy about coming back to Gambia (my foreign country of a home), and not back to friends and family, which I've never done before, plus my excited feelings about the spectacular time I'd had in Greece because as soon as the told about the fine, I began crying pretty much uncontrollably. After she escorted me to the ATM machine and hovered over me as I drained the money in my account, she and her colleague finished their conversation that politely ended apparently in a funny joke and abandoned me to orient myself with my new terminal surroundings. So I sobbed some more on a mesh bench, eventually recognizing the surrounding as the same train terminal where Erica and I began our journey just 3 weeks prior. Finally I composed myself enough to get in the check-in line only to get to the front to be told I had to purchase my new ticket and pay the difference at that other counter, then get back in line that now consisted of everyone on SN Brussels flight 3250 to Brussels. That's okay, I still had like 5 hours to kill at the airport. The flight arrived in Brussels just in time for me to may my 12 hour layover that became 15 when I woke up from my refreshing night's sleep on concourse A's floor and checked in for my flight. But it began to look up a little from there. Since there are only 2 flights a week coming into Gambia from Brussels, there was a good chance I'd know someone on the flight. Walking back and forth down the terminal corridor looking for a place to answer my page I had heard over the intercom, I ran into a fellow health group volunteer returning from a vacation to the States. And at that, one of my favorite to run into and sit next to (coincidentally for the 2nd time flying from Brussels to Banjul) on the flight. I think we helped prepare each other for one transition that we knew was about to take place up on returning to our developing world we call home from the only type of home we've ever known.
That said, we also returning to 15 other bright and shiny familiar health group faces for our required 6 month In-Service Training. This past week as flown by with a series of daily sessions that evaluate how we thing work is going, how it should be going, new ideas of where it could be going and going going going until we couldn't go anymore! I'm going back to Brikama tomorrow, where I think there will be plenty to pick back up with. So much so, that I feel like if I blink, Christmas time will be here and I'll be on another flight to Dallas! That's right pretty people, we will once again meet face to face over a 3 week period from Dec 21st through Jan 11th. Can't wait. I'm already feeling the vibes of love, thanks.
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