A, B, C, D, E, F, Gambia

Attaya: It is brewed everyday, everywhere.  Some people are addicted and forgo sauce on the dinner rice to have money for buying attaya daily.  I have to admit, it is a nice dose of sugar and caffeine on the hottest and laziest afternoons.  I find the most value, as do many Gambians, in the sitting around and chatting that goes hand in hand with the brewing process.  Attaya is always shared and it takes a long time to complete all three brews.  Conversations and the occasional argument flourish! Remember the video?

They start brewing young

Braids: It is the way to go for women in The Gambia.  In those same lazy, attaya afternoons, much hair (many hairs?) is braided.  I never knew how important the number of braids and all of the styles were before being asked myself which kind I prefer for my own head.  I’m not sure it matters to me yet, just so long as my head can stay cool during hot season and I can go as many days as possible without washing my hair.

Check out my style!

Cous:  Only a Fula would dedicate a letter to cous.  Cous, or pounded millet, is a grain typically eaten by Fulas (the Pulaar speaking ethnic group in which I find myself immersed).  My family has cous every breakfast and dinner.  Sometimes we have it with peanut sauce and cassava, sometimes it’s sprinkled with dried fish, sometimes we have it plain with sugar or salt.  My all time favorite is cous porridge.  The cous is rolled into balls and then cooked in a sugary, slimy porridge. Mmm.

 

Cous, peanut sauce, and cassava! Mmm.

Dege: Local peanut butter.  After the peanut harvest, I love the smell of roasting peanuts (groundnuts, as they’re called here).  After roasting, the peanuts are put through a hand-crank grinder and turned into the same stuff I can remember splurging on at the Food Co-op in Marquette.  My dege consumption has become something of a legend in my circle.  My site mate and friend, Cara, on the subject: “disgusting.”  But, I’m four (or is it five now?) gallon buckets deep into my service and still going strong.

The last bowl of peanut butter for breakfast that won me the dege eating competition

Earwigs:  Earwigs season is the worst. They live behind my calendar, under my water filter, and inside my clothes.  Local lore says earwig pee causes painful, puss-filled blisters.  And after waking up with three such blisters on my ankles, I took no more chances with leaving my mosquito (earwig) net untucked.  Also, I don’t remember earwigs having wings in the US.  They do.  It’s the worst.

Friday: Prayer day.  At two o’clock, every man, boy, and grandma heads to the mosque for Friday prayers.  Picture Sunday in the US, only women stay home.  School is only a half day.  Teachers come dressed in their fanciest outfits.  Or the ones that look the most like pajamas.  Sometimes both.

Ma Bambi all dressed up and headed to Friday prayer at the mosque

Geles: Anywhere you need to go in the Gambia, there is a large van, stripped down to the metal skeleton, outfitted with bench-style seats, a stereo system, and fancy paint and bumper stickers praising Allah and boasting street names like “City Boy.”  No, they’re not safe.  No, they’re not comfortable.  But as a wise PCVL once said, they’re always an adventure!

Geles parked outside my village waiting to take people to the river or Senegal

Hippos:  We don’t have a lot of the cool African safari animals in the Gambia, but we have hippos in our river!

Ice: Being in the Gambia has taught me how much of a commodity ice really is.  Not just that really cold stuff we put in our water to break fast during Ramadan, but also, the frozen juice in little baggies that just cost a Dalasi in the market place.  So refreshing!

Joke-mates: This is a really fun aspect about learning the language and integrating, you’re in on Gambia’s favorite joke.  Joke-mates earn the title based on ethnic group, region, or name relative to your own.  For example, because I am a Fula, I’ve told countless Jolas that they are not as good or smart as Fulas.  I also maintain that members of the Ceesay family eat way too much.  What’s great is I get to insult perfect strangers and their reaction is laughter and excitement that I’m in on the joke.

Taking bad pictures is one way to get at this joke-mate (Ma Bambi). She told me to delete this photo. Jokes on her!

Kombo: The capital region.  I never really know how to feel about Kombo.  It is the home of the transit house, the office, the beach, falafel sandwiches and ice-cream.  It is also the home of too many people, taxi drivers, taxi exhaust, and bumsters.  I’m grateful to have a training in Kombo every so often for good food and a change of pace.  I always end up feeling over-stimulated and not myself (all that rich food really shocks the plumbing!)  So, I’m thankful to be back home in village and counting down the days until my next chaotic respite in Kombo.

USA! USA! One thing we do in Kombo is watch the World Cup and support USA! USA!

 

Latrines: Latrines >Toilets. Toilets often don’t flush.  The toilet and the room containing it becomes gross and smelly.  Sometimes there’s not a seat.  Sometimes there’s not a sink.  Sometimes there isn’t a door or a roof.  Maybe there is toilet paper.  There’s probably not.   Toilets are a risk, latrines are a safe bet.  They feel so much cleaner.  Squatting feels natural.

Lady Latrine, in all her glory

Mosquitoes: They are here.  Don’t forget you bug net and your malaria prophylaxis.

Don’t forget to tuck in those mosquito nets!

Naan: Water bags.  Everywhere you go in the Gambia, there are people selling sealed bags of purified water to drink.  The best ones are the ones that are ice cold.  The worst ones are the ones that smell like they were sitting in the sun for a month under a pile of dead fish.  Just bite the corner and squeeze into your mouth or all over your face!

Okra: I didn’t have a lot of experience with this vegetable in the US.  I eat it a lot here and I love it!  I even love the sliminess it adds to every dish and how it feels to squish it between my fingers as I bring it to my mouth.  My family has a running joke that my hair is okra because, according to them, the texture of my hair feels slippery like okra.

Pounding: My family harvests millet (cous) which means that there is a lot of pounding to do.  Every compound is outfitted with a big, wooden mortar and pestle. It is back-breaking work that builds incredible muscles in every woman and girl.  I try. I love waking up to the steady pounding on the weekend.  It’s a thud thud that feels ancient and vibrant and reverberates deep in your chest.

Trying to pound…probably being laughed at

Quarters: The teachers live at the school in my village.  The staff quarters are essentially really sparse dorm rooms.  Having teachers live on campus is convenient for holding trainings on Saturdays and meeting with teachers to lesson plan after school.  Sometimes though, when a bunch of young twenty-somethings live in a dorm-like environment, they start to behave like a bunch of twenty-somethings living in a dorm-like environment.

The teachers’ quarters at our school

Rats: They live in my rafters. Sometimes they build nests in my drawers.  I’ve made my peace with sharing my home.  I have not made my peace with the chattering at all hours of the night.  As soon as I have a sleepless night plagued with rat noises, I put out the poison.

The rat that ended up in my water bucket, swimming for his life

A baby rat nest in my drawer

Scorpions: One windy night, we were all sitting around my compound chatting when my mother told me, “Yassin, the wind has come, pick up your feet.”  I was confused until she explained that when the wind comes, the scorpions come.  Yikes!  Sure enough, within the next hour, my brother had killed four scorpions.  Keep your feet up when the wind comes!

This is a lot bigger than the ones that frequent my compound

Trainings: A big part of my work is teacher training.  I’ve learned that expectations for trainings in the Gambia are slightly different than those I am familiar with in the US.  For example, most people expect to be paid (handsomely) and fed at a training no matter the length or purpose.  My teachers were shocked to hear that I often pay for trainings that I have attended to build my own skill set or resume in the US.

Delivering a read aloud training last year

Ustu!: Reduce! Reduce!  Handy lingo for the market place.  I enjoy going to the market because most of the vendors are Fulas and I like practicing my language, bantering, and, of course, bartering.  Almost nothing is a fixed price and I’ve enjoyed honing my bargaining skills (thanks Natasha!)

 

A local shop or ‘bitik’ managed by my friend, Peter D

Village: Village life can make me feel so happy and fulfilled one moment and extremely claustrophobic and overwhelmed the next.  There seems to be an up and down side of: everyone knowing my business, everyone knowing my name, everyone wanting to improve my Pulaar, everyone wanting me to come visit, and everyone wanting me to take their baby back to America.  I’m not from a small town in America, so I’ve enjoyed becoming a part of a small community here.  I’m learning so much about inter-social community dynamics.  I am a firm believer in it, “taking a village to raise a child,” now.

Picture this. All around you. All the time.

Wrap Skirts:  Turns out, all I need is 2 meters of cloth and I’ve got the most versatile item of clothing ever.   One wrap skirt serves as a conservative mode of dress, a towel, a blanket, a travel bag, an oven mitt, etc. I don’t travel without a wrap skirt now.

 

Wrap skirts even dry quick

X-mas: PCV Christmas in the Gambia is great.  We exchange gifts, eat until we’re sick at a Christmas brunch, and then hang out at the beach.  This year, my US family is coming to share Christmas with my Gambian family and I am thrilled.

Getting in the Christmas spirit. We call our tree, “We Wish You a Beery Christmas”

Yassin: My Gambian name.  I’m told time and time again that my name comes from the Koran.  I just chose it to be named after my sister in training village and cause it sounds kind of like Jacy.  I really do enjoy this name and the identity that I’ve developed.

Zits:  Keeping clean here is difficult.  Along with hormone and diet changes I am experiencing, acne is an issue.  The trick is, not having a mirror!