The Sights and Sounds

Leaving this place is unfathomable at this point in my service.  But when I try to imagine what that might be like, I feel as though I’ll be really nostalgic for the everyday sights and sounds.  You know, things that aren’t really interesting enough to warrant a photo but are so totally different than anything I experience on a daily basis in the US.  I’m attempting to capture some of these moments with video and I thought it would be nice to share them with you!

The vendors are women in my village who come to the school to sell snacks during break time.  You will find these women at every school in the Gambia.  When I don’t have a lot to do, I sit and chat with these women.  The one showing off is my good friend Isa.

Going to the well or pump is a daily activity for every woman and child in my village.  Often, young girls will have to pump water into the basins an oil containers of anyone who asks them to.  It’s hard work, but they have fun, too.

Guest Blogger: Ma Bambi Sallah (Rose)

I never dreamt of vacationing in Africa. It was not on my bucket list.  But my daughter, Jacy, has been in Peace Corps, The Gambia for 1 ½ years and curiosity got the best of me so I went there with my family for the holidays.  I had the most amazing vacation of my life and, much like the 8 month olds in my child care, my head was exploding with SO many new experiences.  I wish I had kept track of the number of times I declared “I’ve never seen anything like that before”!

We started out at Leybato’s Lodge along the Atlantic Ocean in the bustling Kombo region outside of the capital city of Banjul and quickly learned to sleep under mosquito nets (looking quite like royalty with draped canopy beds) and bathe with plastic nets the size of a long skinny hand towel.  Any delusions of grandeur, however, disappeared when awakened by scratching noises that we were convinced were rats in the bathroom.

Breakfast at Leybato’s

The first day was spent in Bakau.  We tried the craft of batik right in our instructor Karamo’s compound.  In spite of dirt being the “floor” of a compound, the porches of some huts are made of broken pieces of tiles in a mosaic form or even a huge piece of fancy floor laminate, quite clean and shiny next to the dirt.  During a break we visited a small Gambian museum and Katchakally Crocodile Pool next door where we watched and even pet the crocodiles.  Karamo ironed our batik with an iron heated by coals and found it pretty amusing that we had never seen an iron like this being used.  Later, walking on red dirt roads strewn with trash, alongside open sewers, children tried to get our attention in any way that they could.  Overlooking the Atlantic at the Bakau Guest House we heard hundreds of loud, excited voices. Boats loaded with fish were coming in and Gambians, fully clothed, ran into the ocean neck deep to fill big trays of fish, holding them high above their heads.  We were fascinated.  Dinner at Koko Curry Kitchen with PCV Cara topped off the day.

Next day we boarded a green bus with seats saved by PCV Peter and his parents.  We saw many small villages that make up The Gambia.  Our bus became jam-packed full of people, one person, even sitting on Jacy’s back!  At a bus stop in Brikama we had “drive-up service”.  Gambians were at our bus windows immediately, selling frozen packs of juice and water, trays of sandwiches, cakes, Panketos – fried balls of batter, bags of oranges that are green colored, blankets and more, all balanced upon their heads!  Any eye contact and we were instant customers!  Women sitting alongside the road were so comfortable preparing food with children wrapped onto their backs or on their laps openly nursing without any need for discretion.  What a wonderful site (get over it America!)

Lulled to sleep in the back of the bus

We stayed in Bwiam with PCV Dan Tanner.  Dan took us on a hike unlike any we’ve ever been on, (there I go again), past Baobab trees, huge birds, women harvesting rice, crabs and mud hoppers disappearing into the river muck, wooden carved canoes and rickety docks, a dike made largely out of crab shells and trees full of bats “screeching” at us.  We dined on fish and chicken prepared by a woman in a shack alongside the road.  We joined PCVs Mallory and Alicia for beers at a small “bar” (another shack).

The next day’s adventures started with omelette sandwiches and coffee/Ovaltine/sweetened condensed milk tasting like liquid candy at the roadside so-called “McDonald’s” and then we were on our first gele-gele ride (beat up big vans with improvised bench seats containing various amounts of cushioning, if any).  Negotiations with the operatie (driver’s assistant) were made by Jacy and Dan which included their skills of deciphering truth from lies.  Sitting amongst chickens our eyes were glued to the road as the driver barely missed goats scurrying across the road and swerved around donkeys that were not scurrying!  Alas, there weren’t any live goats tied to the top of our gele amongst the suitcases, furniture and boxes.

Major highlight:  arriving at Jacy’s compound to be greeted by her family!  Super excited voices yelling Yassin, Yassin, her Gambian name.  To see such love melted my heart.  We totally felt like celebrities as groups of relatives and neighbors streamed in to meet us.  We loved hearing Yassin’s lengthy greetings with every person, which often ended with a series of blessings.  It was like a step back in time to see how a household is run and yet everything seemed so natural compared to our lives back in America.  Yassin’s sisters pounding cous (millet-like grain) in a tall mortar and walking to the well to pump water and carry it on their heads, her mother cutting food up in her hand and cooking our lunch over a fire on the ground, all of the women doing laundry in tubs, her brother hooking the donkey to the cart to haul supplies, chickens wandering all around, her father or older brothers brewing attaya (tea and sugar) for us, her father washing his feet and saying prayers and her siblings reciting the Koran around a campfire.  We also got used to hearing the calls to prayer floating over from the nearby village mosque, starting just before sunrise and ending at sunset.

The next day we had lechere (cous/millet and milk porridge) for breakfast.  We took our donations of school supplies over to the school, with Jacy’s younger brother Modika carrying a 60 pound suitcase on his head.  While visiting family in the village we got “greetigue” (our word for greeting fatigue!)  Later, we took a walk out into the bush and cut down our “Christmas tree” (bush branches) with a machete.

Bringing our ‘bagaas’ to the school

Parading around the village to greet. Don’t forget to say, ‘Jam tan!’

On Christmas morning, dressed in our newly tailored outfits (“complettes”) from tailor Modou in Bwiam, Jacy explained Christmas traditions to her family and we passed out gifts and the happiness on everyone’s face when their name was chanted was quite precious. Soon, the kids were using their cloth gift bags with pencil boxes to pretend “going to school”.   PCV Nick stopped by our compound so we got to share a little bit of the Christmas spirit with him!  Lianna got her “superkanja” (slimy okra based dish) hair braided.  We helped peel cassava root for dinner.

Christmas breakfast! Latte and biscotti

Cous and cassava with peanut sauce

Next we took a trip to Baboon Island, a chimpanzee rehabilitation center and preserve.  We stayed in English-style safari platform tents and were served hibiscus ice tea and delicious meals in the Waterhouse.  We took a boat ride and spotted a large hippo on the shore (very unusual for daytime), five more hippos in the water, a crocodile, chimpanzees up in the trees, and many unusual African birds (there are over 500 species in The Gambia).  In the morning we took a walk on the cliffs and saw warthogs, green monkeys, Red Colobus Monkeys and even more birds.

Crocodile

The Water House

Boat Tour

Hippo

Breakfast

Relaxing at the Water House

Jacy was intent on sharing as many of her Gambian Peace Corps ways of life as possible so our next adventure was a bike ride, her favored mode of travel here.  We tried to ride early in the day as the 95°F afternoons were pretty hot.  We had “bean sandwiches” from Jacy’s regular road side lady for breakfast. Children constantly yelled out “toubab, how are you?” at us as we rode by.  It is amazing how we just passed one village after another everywhere we traveled, most of which are very meager huts made out of bricks or cement with corrugated metal or thatched roofs, all covered in the reddish dust of the land.  We took a ferry ride over to the town of Farrafenni to visit the “Lumo” (a large weekly market).  It was jam-packed full of vendors in little wooden stalls filled with beautiful fabric and a variety of produce, and many tailors sewing outside right next to the stalls.  We ate lunch with PCV Stephen’s family, noticing how Gambians are so pleased and honored to serve a bowl of food to a family of strangers that they just met.  Stephen gave us a tour of his thriving garden project and bee hives explaining many agricultural theories and experiments that he is working on.  We ate Benechin for dinner at Eddy’s Lodge with food delivered by Lamin, a favorite roadside restauranteur friend in Farrafenni, and spent the night at AMRC Lodge.  Waiting on the ferry with our bikes the next morning we were again intrigued by the ferry workers “stuffing” as many trucks, busses, cars and passengers as absolutely possible onto the ferry, although we were constantly trying to make any sense out of the methods to their madness!  Trucks may have to wait in line for more than a day to get on the ferry and Jacy counted 145 trucks as we biked on by.  As we dropped off our borrowed bikes at a PCV’s compound we got to see a taxi barely squeeze through the compound entrance as the family’s sick grandmother was being transferred home from the hospital.

Back in Misera we knew our visit with Jacy’s family was nearing the end and our feelings were bitter sweet.  We did our last “load” of laundry and “baths” in the outdoors behind Jacy’s room.  I found prime bath time to be about 5 PM just as it started to cool down a bit but while the water in the bucket was still warm from the sun.  Although Jacy and Lianna liked evening baths under the bright stars, with a bit of boiled water added to the buckets (nights were much cooler, down to about 65°F).   Andy cooked our camping favorite, Jambalaya, for our last meal.  It was so nice to give Jacy’s Mom a break because she does all of the cooking for the 20-ish people in the compound.  Plus Jacy really wanted her family to see that men can cook!

The men cooking (photo by Dan Tanner)

Re-hydrating veggies (photo by Dan Tanner)

Lots of onions (photo by Dan Tanner)

Lifetime scout (photo by Dan Tanner)

Jumbulaya (photo by Dan Tanner)

The women were so interested (photo by Dan Tanner)

(photo by Dan Tanner)

(photo by Dan Tanner)

(photo by Dan Tanner)

(photo by Dan Tanner)

We said goodbye to Jacy’s family with tears being shared.  The next seven hours were pretty scary.  In spite of us telling friends and family that The Gambia is a very peaceful country, Jacy and Dan were being told by Peace Corps NOT to travel due to unrest and fear of a coup in Banjul.  Since we were already en route, we were allowed to continue on our trip, but the first police check point outside of Soma took about 1 ½ hours as compared to the usual several minutes.  Everyone on the gele had to get out of the vehicle with their belongings and answer questions.  We truly saw how respected Peace Corps Volunteers are as we were often passed right through check points as soon as we mentioned Peace Corps.  We pretty much thought we were going to end up broken down on the side of the road as our gele driver was excessively revving the engine, not even in gear, smoke pouring out of the exhaust pipe, then grinding the transmission back into gear (no working clutch) and barely making it over a small hill.  We made it only to then drive through some bush fires that had spread right to the edge of the road, with huge flames leaping at us as we drove through thick clouds of smoke.

(photo by Dan Tanner)

(photo by Dan Tanner)

Thrilled to have finally made it back to The Kombo region after a full day of wondering if we would be stopped, we had a snacks at Fast Ali’s restaurant.  We headed right to the beach with a round of “Julebrews” (the only beer in The Gambia).  We splurged on a delicious fancy dinner in the beautiful, tropical setting of Ngala Lodge on the Atlantic Ocean.

Bakau Craft Market (photo by Dan Tanner)

Bakau Craft Market (photo by Dan Tanner)

We shared a ride to the airport with PCV Rachel and stuffed five people into the back seat of our driver’s mid-sized hatch back.  He took some back roads to miss some of the clogged roads due to the Banjul unrest.

We’ve been getting glimpses into Jacy’s and other PCV’s lives over the past 1 ½ years through blogs, pictures and phone calls but we knew that there was no way we could fully fathom the experience.  Now that we’ve had our own tiny slice of living in The Gambia, we know that we cannot fully impart the true sense either.  Experiencing the crowded underequipped yet oddly effective cities; riding everywhere in disintegrating vehicles while helping hold them together as they dodge domestic fauna (including humans); negotiating in amusing enigmatic ways for almost every purchase or service; reinterpreting improvised English in most posters, signs or billboards; visiting extraordinary and wonderful exotic places from another place and time; constantly being recognized in the very best and very worst ways; spending time with large loving families living simple lives in village compounds and finally really knowing the friendly, giving people of The Gambia can only be accomplished first-hand.  We will be forever thankful for this journey.

Thanks Mom, Dad, and Lianna! I had an amazing time. I love you!

World Teachers’ Day

World Teacher’s Day took place on October 29. Region 4 hosted a big celebration at the Regional Education Director’s Office.  Political dignitaries (their wives), education officials (their wives), and everyone who’s anyone in our region were invited.  Who wasn’t invited?  The majority of the teachers at my school.  I tried to cheer up my slighted teachers with logic: why spend a day listening to boring speeches and schmoozing with people you complain about every other day of the year when you could be changing the world, one student at a time, in your classroom?  But I couldn’t deny the blatant irony in the fact that the teachers at my school were missing out on a day that is supposed to be all about them.

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So, intent on making their day special, I channeled my inner elementary teacher/camp counselor and figured out something small to do for my teachers.  I colored a poster, blew up some balloons, and bought fancy cookies and punch.  Instant celebration!  I went around to each of the classes and interrupted the real teaching and learning that was undoubtedly taking place (ahem) and taught the children a song to sing to their teachers.  After some rousing renditions of “Thank you Teacher,” the students posed with their teachers for photos that I hope to print.  It was silly, but we had a little fun which is often lacking in classrooms at our school.  The teachers still complained, but they also licked the wrappers of their chocolate cookies clean.

We’re enjoying (just a little).

Rose’s Buds: World’s Youngest Peace Corps Volunteers

Colorfully decorated notebooks

Personalized inside cover

Colorfully decorated notebooks

Personalized inside cover

Colorfully decorated notebooks

Personalized inside cover

Personalized inside cover

Personalized inside cover

Colorfully decorated notebooks

Volunteer project for Rose’s Buds and City High School

Over the summer, I received a care package from home.  On the customs form, I usually advise package senders to write something generic and inexpensive like ‘school supplies’ to deter thievery.  When this package arrived, the customs form read, ‘notebooks.’  Good one, Mom.  Who would want to rip off a bunch of notebooks?  Imagine my surprise when I opened the package and found that it actually was full of notebooks!  It turns out, Rose’s Buds Childcare had been doing some volunteer work to help support my work in the Gambia.  Unbeknownst to me, my mom had students from my former middle/high school donate their “lightly used” notebooks at the end of the school year.  Then the buds redecorated the covers with colorful duct tape and signed their names on the inside cover.

As there are far too many students at the school in my village for me to think of a fair way to distribute the notebooks, I decided, instead, to give the notebooks to the teachers I work with. The teachers in Misera often struggle to afford or have access to teaching materials.  They were extremely grateful to receive notebooks to write their lesson plans in (something they are required to do for every core lesson, every day.)  One teacher in particular received a notebook from one of my special buds and now asks how Riley is doing on a daily basis.  One of the most valuable tools I have in the work that I do, training teachers, is building relationships with those teachers.  Thanks mom and Rose’s Buds for helping me to strengthen those relationships.

Teachers with their new notebooks

Thanks Buds!

Summer of Training

This summer, I wasn’t able to blog very much for several reasons (excuses!).  Mostly, my reasons stemmed from my involvement in training the incoming education volunteers. Remember back to my own training?  I recall daily language and culture classes, formal training sessions on safety and health, and a lot of technical education sessions to reinforce skills and knowledge necessary for my work: training Gambian teachers. It is amazing to think that my PST ended over a year ago.

My Fula training group at the end of my own Pre-Service Training (PST)

My decision to join the training team was not automatic.  I did not want an obligation that would pull me out of my school and village too often.  But I was interested in supporting new volunteers and sharing my knowledge from my education background and me experience from my first year of service. In the end, I decided to join the training team because I knew summer would be a slow time for me and I wanted to keep busy.  My decision was also made easier by the fact that the new Peace Corps training site is located 20 km from my site, a bike rideable distance.  So, at the end of June, three other trainers and myself found ourselves dressed in a ridiculous asobi, headed to the airport to greet 18 brand spankin’ new volunteers (plus one guy on his fourth Peace Corps tour of service!).

Our training team dressed in our asobi for greeting the trainees at the airport.

Being involved in the training of new volunteers brought some unexpected joy to my life. I love the Gambia and my life here.  I was able to share my home with a bunch of eager and excited trainees.  Seeing the Gambia through their eyes was seeing the Gambia through an old, familiar lens that just needed a good spit shine.  I was reminded of my own reactions to seeing fruit vendors on every corner or a herd of cattle being paraded down a city street.  I was also reminded of my initial fears and apprehension and was pleased to find out that a lot of those fears have dissipated and in their place, I feel confidence and efficacy.  This struck me particularly when my friend Brie and I made a trip to the bank which was, at one time, a daunting expedition.  Easy enough transport, minimal harassment, and back before lunch.  Yeah!  We got this!

My role in training was to lead sessions that are critical to a volunteer’s work as an education volunteer.  I taught (or, in most cases, reinforced) concepts like phonics instruction, early childhood education, supporting and mentoring teachers, building libraries, conducting read alouds, and more.  I also supported trainees as they practiced teaching in a Gambian school and participated in a workshop with their future head teachers or principals.

Sometimes our role as trainers involves encouraging squat fights at the transit house.

I also acted as mentor and confidante for the trainees as they struggled to adapt to a new culture and climate and the rigorous demands of Peace Corps training.  I became particularly close to the Fula trainees because their training village is a five minute walk from my own.  Now that training is over, I miss the occasional drop by therapy and gossip sessions we used to have at my compound.

Me and the Fula trainees, my neighbors!

My summer was exhausting.  I spent a lot of time riding my bike between my village and the training site. By the end of training, a 10 week process, the trainees are ready to be finished.  They are sick of the training sessions and the lack of control they have over their own schedule and diets. As it turns out, I was just as ready to be done with training and back in my village.  I was ready to have the trainees to go to their villages, find how they fit in the Gambia and in the Peace Corps community, and become independent volunteers.  I was ready to not be a trainer/mentor/guru but rather, just a friend and fellow volunteer.

The training team in another fabulous asobi. This time, we are celebrating the Swearing-In of the Gambia’s newest volunteers.

They’re off now.  Off in the bush somewhere.  Struggling through their own three month challenge. I hope they are being challenged and that their training is being put to the test.

Rainy Season: What’s growing?!

It’s rainy season in The Gambia.  People in my village are farming peanuts, corn, and cous (millet). Green is popping up everywhere and really popping out visually against the gray, cloudy skies.  Stuff grows like crazy!  Here are some of the stuff that I’ve found growing this rainy season.  My dad weeding between our rows of cous.

The tape on my floor is for covering up ant holes.  A couple of plants have sprouted out of my floor.

I have a (sort of) compost pit in my backyard.  Lately, there will be gray mushrooms growing in it every morning. They all die somewhere around mid-morning. Any of my field mycologists able to identify them?

Plants are even sprouting up in the windows (on the inside!) of the gele I’m riding!

And let’s not forget all of those rainy season skin infections we all have growing.  We all try to stay clean and dry.  It’s not easy, de!

That’s all for now, tune in next week for a look at all of the roads that are being washed away and turned into small tributaries of The River Gambia.

 

What I Miss

When I asked my loyal readership to send all of their burning questions about my experience here in the Gambia, some exceeded my expectations and wrote whole lists of questions. I cannot fully express how much it means to me to have people back home take such an interest in what I am doing.  A lot of volunteers complain about not having people back home who are interested or really trying to understand what they are going through.  So, I feel fortunate to have family and friends who not only send their love and well wishes, but also their questions.  I could have tried to tackle all of those questions at once, but instead I am going to use your questions throughout the rest of my service as prompts for blog entries. 

The question I want to attempt to answer this week is what I do (and don’t) miss about the US. 

First, I’ll start with what I miss.  My initial reaction to this question was to think about specific foods or holidays or people that I miss. To avoid just creating a long list of specific flavors and moments, I’ll try to answer the question a bit more broadly. 

First, I miss my family and friends.  But I also have felt their presence throughout my entire service.  We talk face to face semi regularly, have emailed and sent letters back and forth.  There have been a few moments in my service, though, that I have really felt bad about not being physically present.  During the rough patches in relationships or family losses, it would really have been nice to be with the people who know best what those events mean to me.  We found ways to cope, of course.  But a part of me did want to be present for my own support and to support others.  Being away has brought me closer to some, though.  I regularly exchange letters with family members I had gone all year without talking to before.  I am grateful for the opportunity to become closer with my home people from far away.

I miss the changing of the seasons.  The change in weather is something to anticipate and to relieve weariness from the previous season.  And four seasons is a good number.  Rainy and dry are not enough for me.  I miss all of the traditions tied to the changing of the seasons, as well.  Fall comes to mind, in particular, with cider mills, apple donuts, hayrides, and pumpkins.  And I was just describing in a letter how, when I think of Michigan in the summer, I think of days at Lake Michigan, mowing the lawn, bike rides downtown for music, and camping.  And while I do miss actually doing those things, I know I will be able to do them again when I return.  What I miss, I think, is the anticipation of those events associated with the seasons that fuels my excitement for the new season’s arrival.  I suppose that living in the Gambia long enough, I would learn traditions and create some of my own that would have me looking forward to the next religious holiday or torrential downpour.  For now, though, the seasons seem to drag on and I don’t really know what to expect or anticipate this year based on my single year in this climate and culture.

Rainy Season

I also miss food.  I could go on and on about all of the delicious dishes I’ve been craving since I’ve arrived in country.  A trainee observed yesterday that 90% of Peace Corps conversations revolve around food.  But, lately, I have been craving specific foods less…or maybe I just am forgetting what they tasted like.  But, on those days when we uncover the food bowl and find domoda (peanut sauce) and rice for the third day in a row, the fifth time that week, and the twentieth time that month, I think that it sure would be nice to have some variety in the food bowl.  And by variety, I mean something other than the occasional piece of eggplant or bitter tomato. Before this gets complainy though, I will be the first to admit that I love Gambian food and I’m content sharing meals with my family.  I have regular access to the market so I even have some control over how much veg I see in our food bowl.  But volunteers only exaggerate slightly when they say there are basically three dishes in the Gambia: domoda (peanut sauce), chu (oily sauce), and benechin (oily rice). Pizza night is out of the question and side dishes are a foreign concept.  I miss having a varying menu every week.  I know I fell into routines with cooking back home; who can forget Speghetti Wednesday?  But I am really looking forward to the day that I can shop for and cook with diverse ingredients and make Mexican one night and Mac n’ Cheese the next.

Domoda – Peanut Sauce on Rice

Finally, I miss anonymity.  The Gambia has made me more empathetic towards celebrities because I now understand what it is like to have everything I do publicly under intense scrutiny and become a thing of unfounded fascination.  Fetching water, chopping onions, holding a pencil, you name it.  It is all the subject of wonder and laughter when I am doing it, no matter how hard I try to do it just like them.  My village fame can come in handy, too, though.  It is satisfying to have people in my village correct strangers by telling them that she is not called “toubab,” she is Yassin, and she is our sister/daughter/niece.  There have also been a few instances when someone lets me know that I am bleeding or have a strange rash before I even know.  Weird.  But helpful. 

Carrying cous on my head like everyone else…notice all the stares.

Things I do not miss about the US?  I don’t miss transportation and access to certain amenities in the US. I appreciate the lack of access and the difficulties the transportation system here impose because I have really enjoyed being more conscious and intentional about my choices regarding such amenities.  I am highly aware of the water I consume on a daily basis because the water must be fetched, bucket by bucket, from a well.  I spend my time on the internet (for the most part) choosing the most important interactions and leaving the rest.  I don’t have electricity so I don’t use it unnecessarily.  And I take my bike whenever possible.  I don’t take my bike because it is healthier for me or because it doesn’t emit harmful toxins into the atmosphere (well, maybe that is a small part of it).  I take my bike as much as possible because, for me, it is the easiest option and the option with which I have the most control.  For the past week, I had to help with a training event in a village 20 km from my site.  There was Peace Corps transport available for me both ways, which I took advantage of in the rain.  But I realized that I prefer the freedom of taking my bike, stopping at the market if I choose, and not waiting for other people or worrying about other people waiting for me.  Logistics are a tricky thing and they’re less tricky when I can just transport myself.  I’m also supported by the fact that time and being on time is never a huge concern so I don’t have to worry as much about the additional time that biking costs.

Bucket bathing! I know exactly how much water it takes to bathe now. I skip washing my hair a LOT more often.

I do not miss the attitude in the US.  This is hard for me to articulate since lumping an entire country as diverse as the US into one general attitude seems impossible.  I suspect the attitude to which I am referring is more prevalent in New York City and less so in small southern towns.  Though I am not able to put my finger on exactly what that attitude is, I can identify what it is not, here in the Gambia.  One of the things I most appreciate about the people of the Gambia is their spirit.  People are always greeting, always joking, always dancing.  And I’ll admit, sometimes these same things really get on my nerves (my American attitude, I guess).  Sometimes I just want to go into the market, buy some vegetables, and not chat with every seller that remembers my name (all of them).  Sometimes, I am just annoyed that you proposed marriage (again) or asked me to take you to America (again) and it is hard for me to see the joke there.  But most of the time, I am in awe of the friendly, jovial nature of an entire people.  Gambians work hard.  There is a lot of work that goes into just the cooking, cleaning, farming, and washing of daily life.  And it is monotonous.  But Gambians sing and laugh while they do the work.  There is always a smile and a good chat waiting for me when I get to the compound.  I feel that the Gambia, as a people, has been able to capture an attitude I would like to adopt in my own life.  It is definitely something I will miss when I return to a country that values independence, hard work, and productivity sometimes at the expense of interpersonal relationships and happiness. 

My cousin Rokey. Big smile, as usual.

Well, there you have it.  There are things that I miss and things I don’t miss about my life in the US.  I intend to write a similar blog about the Gambia before I leave.  Because, as much as I like to complain about my frustrations with working here, fitting in here, and dealing with Gambians; I actually really love my life here and will be sorry to leave it.    

Surprise Care Package Shout-out

Funny thing.  My package got delivered at the wrong hut.  My friend Cara told me I had a package from a Jennifer Todd waiting at her hut.  I wracked my brain trying to think of a Jennifer Todd.  Finally, it came to me. Jen Clement!  Most of the time I spent working with and later living with Jen, she wasn’t yet married.  I felt pretty embarrassed for not recognizing the name, especially when I saw the thoughtful care package she sent.

Jen and her family all chipped in for Christmas to send a package full of goodies for me and the children in my compound and school.  Strarbursts, candy canes, granola, trail-mix, crayons, books, games, and a really sweet letter.  I cannot tell you how grateful I am, Jen, and how extraordinarily special I feel to know that you are thinking of me and supporting my efforts here.  Though our paths are different, I feel that we are kindred spirits and both making a difference in the world.  Thank you.

A terrific surprise from a mysterious sender

The Twelve Days of Christmas (Gambia Style)

My Peace Corps cohort decided to do a Secret Santa gift exchange.  The gifts were wonderful.  Dan received an intellectually stimulating scavenger hunt, Melissa received a very special Christmas read aloud, Cara performed a rap written for Nick, and Rachel let a chicken loose in the compound for Peter to chase (to name a few).

I wrote my new friend Rachel a song and decided to share it with you, my home people, and spread the joy (’tis the season).  So, without further ado…

On the 12th day of Christmas Peace Corps gave to me…

12 “Language lessons”

11 snot-nosed children

10 wives a fightin’

9 teachers absent

8 dalasi taxis

7 new infections

6 dalasi bread

5 daily prayers

4 termite mounds

3 attaya pours

2 different meals

and a bush rat in my food bowl!

Merry Christmas from The Gambia!

The First Week of School

The first day of school, which I thought would begin at 8am, started around 8:45ish.  Though it is hard to place an exact time on when school actually started.  Was it when my father, a teacher in the school, rang the bell for students to line up?  Was it when the principal showed up to address the students (quite a bit of time after they lined up)?  Was it when the students were dismissed to go sit in their classrooms?  Was it when the students were read the list of who would be promoted to the next grade and who would be repeating their grade?  If you are thinking, surely, school starts when a teacher is in front of the classroom teaching, then I am not sure that school started that first day.  After all, teachers were not assigned a class to teach until later in the week.

Tuesday, the students were asked to show up to school with hoes and cutlasses. The students spent the morning weeding the school grounds with the promise that they would be dismissed when the job was complete.  Weeding the school grounds actually means pulling up every green thing until all that remains is sand and rocks.  During rainy season, weeds can grow to be knee high in a week, so I guess this is necessary. The students went home that day tired, sweaty, and not knowing what teacher they would have or what classroom to report to on Wednesday.

Finally, Wednesday, the principal made some decisions about which teachers would be “temporarily” placed in which classes.  We then went around announcing which student was in each class (again) and then handing the list over to the teacher.  This took most of the morning because some time was also spent waiting for doors to classrooms to be unlocked.  So imagine now that you are the principal at this school.  You have all of the keys on one key ring and none of them are labeled.  Sweat forms on the back of your neck as you try unmethodically to find one key out of 30 while the entire school is standing there watching and waiting.

Now imagine being a teacher in this school.  You show up the day before school starts ready to go but not knowing the students or even the grade you will teach.  On Wednesday you are handed a list of students and assigned a grade but told it is only temporary and subject to change. Oh, and the classroom you are using is also only temporary until the school time-table is complete.  I asked the teachers what they do in these first days when they do not have anything prepared.  I have been told they are working on introductions and establishment of rules.  What I have seen varies.  Some teachers are making a genuine effort to get some teaching in despite the circumstances.  Others prefer to sit outside their class, drink tea, and wait for next week when the real teaching begins.

After my first week of school I am exhausted.  The root of my exhaustion does not come from the sweltering late mornings spent scrambling for this or that class list with the principal of my school.  Nor does the exhaustion come from the nightly treks to our feeder villages to enroll students and discuss the importance of education until dark.  My exhaustion comes from the prospect of what lies ahead.  This week was eye-opening.  I see now that no matter how much time I spend here and how hard I work, there will still be more work to do.  Which, I know, is not unique to schools in Africa; what school does not need improvement, after all?  The prospect of the coming years’ work is exhausting, yes, but also full of possibility.  These next two years will require patience and dedication.  But there should never be a lack of things to do.  Time to roll up my sleeves, get organized, and get to work.

Students weeding the school grounds

Teachers walking to a feeder village for the Education for All Campaign