Super Care Package Shout-out

I would like  to publicly thank my Grandparents and Aunt Rhonda for the amazing care package I received last week.  It came to me on one of those really good days that I have from time to time.  The Country Director of Peace Corps came to visit my site and school.  Then, two of my trainers came to visit a day earlier than planned.  Their visit was even more of a surprise because of the excellent care package they brought!

My aunt, a teacher, sent me school supplies which I will use as incentives for my teachers.  She included some scented pencils from a school fundraiser that are wild!  I might have to keep one of those for myself.  They sent a 2014 calendar…perfect timing!  I’ve been using my 2013 calendar to record one new, interesting, or exciting thing that happens each day.  It is nice to look back on a month at all of the new experiences and little accomplishments. There were goodies, too!  I’ve been putting dried berries in my oatmeal every morning, treating myself to the occasional melty Lindor truffle, and I happily shared my Banket (Dutch Almond Roll) with 20 Peace Corps Volunteers last weekend. (They all say thanks!)  There was also a beautiful book with big pictures and simple text that will make a great read-aloud.  I’m excited to see what my teachers do with it! There was also a wrapped gift that I am saving for Christmas…or Christmas Eve as the tradition with Grandma and Grandpa DeBie’s gifts goes.

Thank you California Family.  I have felt your love and support for my entire service so far.  I love you and miss you. 

 

Family Matters

In a recent letter, I was asked who lives in my compound with me.  This is a complicated question to answer because different people have lived at my compound at different times in my first two months here.  Children have gone to attend schools in other villages.  Some children have come to stay at my compound in order to attend school here.  Various family members and their children will come to stay with my family for weeks until one day, with little warning, they will announce that they are returning home.  Even in the time between first writing this blog entry and revising it, one child left my compound to live with his father in the capital region and another aunt came to stay with her son.

To make the explanation of my host family even more complicated, the way Gambians relate to their extended family members follows a completely different system.  In a Gambian family, your father’s brothers are also your fathers.  Your mother’s sisters are also your mothers.  Your aunts are your father’s sisters only and your uncles are your mother’s brothers.  Any of your fathers’ or mothers’ children are your siblings.  But your uncles’ and aunts’ children are your cousins.  My village is full of people that I call my father because they are my dad’s brothers.  Their children are all my siblings (probably half the school).  Oh, and your brother’s wife?  Also your wife!  So, if your brother dies, you inherit his wife and her children.

So, I will attempt to answer the question by sharing the names of those currently and regularly in my compound.  I will also try to explain their relation to me.

Hamat (Bukary) Sallah:  My host-father, the owner of the compound, and a first-grade teacher at the school.  My father is the son of the village head, or alkaloo.

Kaddijatou (Bambi) Jallow:  My host-grandmother, the mother of my father.  Her husband died after my father was born, at which point she was bequeathed to his brother, Juka (the village head, or alkaloo).  So, while my father considers Ba Juka an adopted father, my grandmother is considered his second wife.

Fatoumata (Batoliay) Jallow: My host-mother, a cousin of my father.  Here, wives keep their maiden names.  She has been the dutiful first (and only) wife of my father since she was 18.

Alpha Sallah: My host-brother, the son of Fatoumata and Hamat.  Alpha is 19 and currently not in school.  He did not pass his Grade 9 exams and so my parents are considering sending him to a technical school.

Modika Sallah: My host-brother, the son of Fatoumata and Hamat.  Modika is 15 and in Grade 8.  He is a Student Councilor, a Scout, and a bright kid.

Njibou Sallah: My host-sister, the daughter of Fatoumata and Hamat.  Njibou is 12 and in Grade 6.

Kajata (Kaja) Sallah:  My host-sister, the daughter of Fatoumata and Hamat.  Kaja is 6 and does not yet attend school.

Sheik Sallah: My host-brother, the son of Fatoumata and Hamat.  Sheik just turned 4 and we celebrated his birthday (though that is not typically done in the Gambia) as a way for me to share an American tradition.

Lamin Sallah: My host-brother, the son of Fatoumata and Hamat.  Lamin is four months, sitting and gurgling away.

Amie Sallah: My host-aunt, the sister of my father and daughter of Bambi and Juka.  Amie was recently divorced by her husband and sought my father out to provide for her and her daughters.  Currently, three of her daughters are living at the compound, one daughter is living in the capital region, and her son lives with his father in the next village.

Fawura Ceesay: My host-cousin, the daughter of Aunt Amie.  Fawura is 6 and does not yet attend school.

Jaila Ceesay: My host-cousin, the daughter of Aunt Amie.  Jaila is 3 and does not yet attend school.  I am told this girl is the spitting image of her father and that she is just as hard-headed.

Kaddijatou Ceesay: My host-cousin, the daughter of Aunt Amie.  Kaddijatou is seven months, sitting up, and already eating rice from the food bowl.

Kaddijatou Sallah: My host-aunt, the sister of my father and daughter of Bambi and Juka.  Kaddijatou is a 3^rd grade teacher at a neighboring village.  She spends school days in that village and returns home on weekends.

Jabou Sallah:  My host-sister, the daughter of my father’s brother, and the ward of my Aunt Kaddijatou.  She attends the school that my aunt teaches at and stays in that village during the week.  She also returns to our compound every weekend.  Jabou is 9 and in Grade 3.

Rokey Jallow: My host-cousin, the daughter of Kumbaie (my father’s sister living in another village).  Rokey lives with us to attend Grade 8 at the school.  This girl is extremely hard-working and could probably run the compound herself.

Bringing Up Baby (In The Gambia)

One exciting aspect of my new compound is that there are babies!  One is seven months old and my aunt’s child, the other is three months and my brother.  This has been my first extended exposure to baby care in The Gambia, so I thought I would share a few observations – especially for my early childhood friends out there. There are a lot of aspects of baby raising in The Gambia that I respect and even think would work well in the context of Western culture.  There are other aspects that I am still struggling to understand.  For now, I will just share my observations and maybe over time I will be able to provide a better rationale for the practices I am seeing here.

Baby brother napping on my bed

Diapering Baby: This happens rarely in my compound. When it happens, it often takes the form of a cloth from an old wrap skirt covered in a plastic bag tied twice around baby’s waist. Often, though, babies are diaperless and free to relieve themselves in the cloth they are swaddled in, the clothes they are wearing, or on whosever lap they happen to be sitting.

Baby Brother getting diapered

Silly Jacy, Diapers are called Pampers here!

Potty Training Baby: Since there is often no diaper and most children use the great outdoors as their toilet, there is no real defined start to potty training in The Gambia. A preferred method for training baby is putting the baby on top of the mother’s feet with the baby facing or even hugging the mother’s legs. The mother makes a V shape with her feet, heels together, so that the baby is straddling her feet in the perfect squat position.  The baby is then free to do his or her business, and if mom is careful, her feet stay clean.

Bathing Baby: This happens much like it does in America.  The baby sits in a shallow tub of water while the mom scrubs and rinses him or her.  The real difference is the drying process.  The babies in my compound are shaken dry.  Mom holds one arm after another, then one leg after another.  I have seen this performed gently and rather vigorously.  That is right, I have seen baby hanging from one leg, upside-down, being shaken.  Oh, and mom blows in the babies ears to dry those, as a final touch.

Feeding Baby: Breastfeeding all the way!  And they will whip those breasts out anytime, anywhere. I have seen women traveling on public transport, farming, cooking, braiding hair (you name it!) while breast-feeding. The stigma of breasts and breastfeeding just does not exist here.  In fact, I am told that in one of the local languages, the slang they use for breasts is “food sacks.” I have seen some older babies being feed baby food, or custard from a can in my cousin’s case.  As soon as children are old enough to squat next to the food bowl and scoop their food in their mouths, they eat what everyone else eats.  Mom might still pick meat off the bones for small children.

Babysitting: The baby is the mother’s responsibility. I have seen varying levels of paternal involvement.  That being said, mothers also are expected to keep up with their compound responsibilities, including: sweeping, cooking, farming, washing clothes, fetching water, bathing children, etc. So it pays to have a compound full of children to help with the responsibilities and to pass baby off to. I have seen vary small children (as young as 4 years old) toting around an infant. Do not let this worry you though, children are taught to be adults very early here, so most of the time, they are attentive to the baby they are caring for. If the mother goes to the farm, baby will either go with mom or stay at the compound with grandma until it is feeding time.  When baby gets fussy, he is strapped to a small child’s back and sent to the farm, or wherever mom is.

Posing for pictures and carrying around a baby? No big deal.

Toting Baby: I will try my best to explain the baby backpack, but if you have ever seen a photo of an African mother, you have probably seen the cloth wrap holding the baby to the mother’s back. In this baby toting wrap, the mother uses a rectangular piece of fabric tied at the top and bottom, wrapped around her and the baby.  I have seen babies at varying levels of comfort in this position, but there is no denying the convenience.  I think the most impressive baby toting I have seen so far was at a wedding.  Mom was dancing pretty vigorously with baby strapped on her back.  I thought surely this child must be terrified or wailing from all the shaking.  Imagine my surprise when she turned and I could see that the baby was fast asleep.

My cousins

Having babies in the compound has been a joy.  Babies do not know that I cannot speak their language fluently.  I love thinking about how much they will grow over the next two years and how they will have known me almost their entire lives.  I sometimes struggle with the child raising techniques I see, though.  On one hand, childcare has been my whole life and I know all the best practices and safe, loving ways to care for babies.  Yet babies in The Gambia are growing to be The Gambians that I have come to love in this country.  There are techniques in place here that I am not accustomed to but I am hesitant to judge too harshly or jump in with my “Western wisdom”.  As it turns out, my struggles with baby raising techniques are somewhat representative of my struggles overall.  My biggest challenge so far, has been deciding when to step in and educate or change behavior and when to accept and find value in the differences in customs and culture.

Trying my hand at toting my brother around