Changing Ways

I went up to Tendaba a few weeks ago to do some Environmental Education training with the new group of Environment volunteers that arrived in the country. I was sitting around with them at dinner one night and one of them asked me, So, how has Gambia changed you? At first, I thought the question was silly, but upon closer examination I think Gambia has changed me, although maybe (in some cases, hopefully) not permanent ways, and sometimes just in silly ways. Here's what I came up with:

Assertiveness - My name is not toubab, I will not give you my phone number, tell me the right price! (This one is real, and widespread. I would say every volunteer I talk to says this is the number one thing that has changed in them, sometimes bordering on bitchiness. It's hard to get hassled so much and not develop some major attitude)

Skills - Okay, there are the technical skills I've picked up, but also some pretty useless ones. I can make you some all natural mosquito repellant, spit long distances, and speak a language that less than one million people in the world speak. Other skills include biking through sand, peeling an orange in one long strip, using the bathroom without toilet paper, and carrying a wide variety of things on my head.

Larger biceps - Enough said.

Less shame - Picking your nose in public is perfectly acceptable in The Gambia.

Ability to deal with boredom - I can sit for hours and hours and hours with nothing on the schedule. And that's okay. What have I learned? Always bring a book to a meeting, because after lunch really means 5:30pm, but I'm still expected to show up around 3:30. No book? There's always people watching. And rearranging grains of rice. And making funny faces at babies.

Flexibility - Friday never means Friday, Yes doesn't always mean yes, and there always needs to be a contingency plan. Or two. Or three. (Likewise, I can use this as an excuse to not do things when I say I'll do them. Everyone has to be flexible, after all. Not just me.)

Confidence - In Gambia, a 24 year old girl from America can go up to the minister of forestry and seem like an authority. I have embraced this completely.

Taste Buds - I crave eggs here like I've never craved them before. And mayonnaise, oh sweet mayonnaise. And okra! And peanut butter and fish sauce! And meat pies! Who knew?

Accent - I have finally come to an understanding of why my mother mimics the accents of the people she talks to. While I will still find it embarrassing when she does this to a waiter in a Mexican restaurant, in Gambia I have begun to do this with about 99 percent of the English-speaking Gambians I talk to. With a few exceptions, they're not going to understand you if you speak like an American. So you can't be shy about your Gambian accent.

So I guess you can tell that not all of these changes will be beneficial for coming back to America. But still, it's interesting to see what one year in a dusty, disorganized West African country will do to you. And we're only halfway through, kids.

A parting shot:This is what three hours in a gele on the South Bank road will do to you. Ah, dust.

Tobaski, Take Two

Once again the holiday of Tobaski has hit the Gambia, which means lots of fancy clothes, attaya drinking, and meat eating. This year had a definite leg up on last year since I knew my way around village and had plenty of people to go chat with. I also dressed to impress, although I didn't take it as far as most of the Gambian ladies (skipped the heavy makeup, matching shiny bag and high heels, etc.). Mostly Tobaski is just going around to all your friends houses to spend time with each other and compliment each other on your good looking new clothes. Kids and women also go from house to house saliboo-ing, which is like trick or treating except really it's prayer-or-treating. Their hoping for money or candy, but if they don't get that at least they get a prayer.

Here is our Tobaski ram before, enjoying its last days of good eating and... life.

And here it is after. We ate meat for three days afterwards. Please consider the fact that there are no refridgerators in my village. By day three I was saying no thank you. But one of my favorite parts of the first day was going to my neighbor's house in the evening where they had friend up a big plate of meat and onions that we ate with bread while sitting under their mango tree.

Here is me and my host sister. She's not in her full going-out gear yet, but still. The point of Tobaski is to look as glamorous as possible, so everyone buys the most expensive fabric they can afford and has as much glitter and embroidery and sequins and hoo-has added to it as possible. And then they do their hair as fancily as possible and traipse around in high heels through the sand.


This is Mba's son Molamin and a friend's daughter. Molamin had a new suit for Tobaski but his pants were too big. You can't see it in this picture, but he decided to forgo the pants entirely.


One of my host fathers, Bajere, looking like a stud in his sunglasses before going to morning prayers.

And here's a picture of the full effect: ladies in their finest.

Sorry for the long delay since my last post. It's not always easy to get up the motivation to actually get words and pictures up on this space, but I'll try to do better. Up next I'm headed to Tendaba to do some training for the new group (that's right, I'm old hat here, folks). Lots of holidays coming up including Christmas, my birthday, Hannukah, New Years... I'm going to try to get up country for at least one of those occasions. Just a plug, but if you're thinking "What should I possibly give a Peace Corps volunteer for this upcoming holiday season?" the answer is: Vacation Money! (Sending love in the form of letters is also great).