Well folks, I'm not a Peace Corps Volunteer anymore as of tomorrow. Moving out of village was really difficult, even if I'm ready to move on with my life. The whole week was full of people just talking about how I was leaving... It made conversation a bit difficult. I went around to everyone's compound to say goodbye, and a few old ladies just burst into tears when I told them. It was nice in a way, to feel loved, but goodbyes are really not fun and a whole week that is only goodbye is rough.
The night before I left all the groups I'd been working with came to my house and gave speeches about me and gave me presents. I've never had so many African clothes in my life! I felt like they all really appreciated having me around these past two years. It was a nice way to wrap things up and see everyone I wanted to see one last time. Mom and Dad, you weren't forgotten in the gift giving frenzy. I've got plenty of goodies for you too.
And then, in the morning, a few of my friends came over to wait for the car (which Peace Corps forgot to send, ahem...). When it arrived, it was sudden and tons of people came out of nowhere into my compound, whisked all my things into the truck in about 2 minutes, and then I was ready to go. And I cried. And other people cried.
In Gambia, you always shake hands with your right hand. The left hand is for things of a more personal nature... But for a final goodbye, you shake with the left. I guess it's to guarantee that you'll see each other again when you come back to fix the mistake. This goodbye was rough, knowing that there's a chance that I'll be back here, but no guarantee.
Here are some things I'm going to miss about The Gambia:
- How friendly everyone is. Okay, sometimes it's to the point of obnoxiousness, but usually it's great to feel so genuinely welcomed.
- Special priveleges. Reverse racism is a nice thing when you can cut the line and always get a chair.
- Being told I'm beautiful one zillion times a day. I'm also NOT going to miss this since it usually comes from guys I really don't want to talk to, but I've never felt more confident than I do here. No body issues in this country.
- Bright colors. Clothing, sky, rice fields
- Really appreciating a cold drink. REALLY.
- Friends, coworkers & my second family and Jatta Kunda. The people here have been truly amazing and I hope they can continue to work toward the greater good.
Okay, there's lots of stuff I'm goign to miss honestly. I can't possibly name it all. Freedom to work or not work, swimming pools, the beach any time... Come on! I'm looking forward to the luxuries of the first world and the challenges of school and work, but I'm leaving a lot behind here.
Fo Silo Kotenke
(Until Another Journey)
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Friday, November 26, 2010
Description of Service
I'm winding down my time here, and one of our assignments is to write a description of service. Just to give you an idea of how I've been spending my time (at least in terms of work), I'm going to post it here.
On January 14, 2009, Ms. Downs was sworn in as a United States Peace Corps Volunteer in the Environment and Natural Resource Management sector. She was placed in the rural village of Kafuta, a Mandinka community with 5,000 residents located in Kombo East, Western Region. There she worked with local residents to plan and develop sustainable projects and meet the need for educated extension workers, as well as managing larger projects regionally and nationally. Ms. Downs served as National Coordinator for the Gambia All Schools Tree Nursery Competition (GASTNC), worked with the Kombo-Foni Forestry Association (KOMFFORA) on regional forestry projects and organizational management skills, and facilitated the formation and management of a local cashew growers cooperative. She also worked with numerous individuals on grassroots development efforts, with projects ranging from malaria prevention methods to water and sanitation projects to computer literacy.
Ms. Downs’ primary achievements as an Environment and Natural Resource Management (ENRM) volunteer were as follows:
Collaborated with government officials on the National Coordinating committee for GASTNC, a joint effort with the Department of Education and the Department of Forestry that oversaw the planting of 10,000 trees by 260 schools each year.
Facilitated the transfer of responsibility for GASTNC funding from Peace Corps to the Department of Education, making the project sustainable without the necessity of donor funds.
Updated and revised manual for schools participating in GASTNC, including guidelines on nursery management, environmental education techniques, out-planting methods, and tree-specific information, disseminated to schools nation-wide.
Managed multi-agency GASTNC judging treks for Western Region and Kombo Municipal District. Kept records of nursery and out-planting results for participating schools, advised garden masters on environmental education techniques and nursery management methods, and awarded prizes.
Developed publicity campaign for GASTNC, including spots on local TV station, panel discussions, fliers for schools, and prize ceremonies in two regions covered by television, radio, and newspapers.
Launched One Man, One Tree, a regional tree planting campaign with KOMFFORA that facilitated the planting of 45,000 trees per year in community forests of Western Region communities.
Developed a five year action plan and budget for KOMFFORA. Reinforced grant-writing techniques and advised in project design and management. Provided capacity building training for KOMFFORA executive committee members.
Conducted regional mangrove rehabilitation project, a joint effort of KOMFFORA and World Wildlife Fund (WWF), resulting in the planting of 38,000 mangroves over 15 hectares in five villages.
Ms. Downs' secondary projects as an ENRM volunteer were as follows:
Guided 60 local cashew farmers in the formation of the Jarisu Cashew Farmers Association, through which 10 tons of raw cashew were sold cooperatively. Advised farmers on constitution writing, marketing techniques, and record-keeping.
Conducted local-language trainings for cashew farmers using Farmer Field School technique promoted by International Relief and Development (IRD). Trainings focused on best practices for orchard management, business and entrepreneurial skills, and post-harvest best practices.
Nursed and out-planted 200 mahogany seedlings in community forest.
Instructed 40 forestry students in environmental education techniques. Facilitated 3 environmental education lessons led by forestry students for 100 Lower Basic School students.
Introduced 40 forestry students to basic seed preparation and nursery management techniques.
Trained Lower Basic School staff members in grant writing and project management techniques. Received funds through the United States Embassy Self Help Fund to improve school structures, and Friends of Gambian Schools funding to re-construct a garden wall. Worked with school officials and students to set up a school garden.
Supervised a Water and Sanitation project to improve water facilities at the Upper Basic School, made possible by a Small Project Assistance grant. Project included installation of solar-powered pump and three taps.
Conducted informal pest management and soil improvement talks with 60 women in 4 community gardens, leading to the adoption of simple local practices that increased garden yields.
Ms. Downs also extended her volunteer service to work within the education and health and community development sectors:
· Instructed 50 villagers in malaria prevention methods, including preparation of natural mosquito repellant. Advised three individuals in successful small enterprise development projects based on mosquito repellant production and sale.
· Conducted after school tutoring sessions in general science, math, and test taking strategies for 50 Upper Basic School students.
· Developed curriculum for and instructed one year computer literacy class for 100 high school students. Adapted curriculum, taught, and trained instructor for computer literacy courses at local skills center. Resulted in 50 students certificated in basic computer skills.
Leadership and training roles within Peace Corps:
Planned and implemented eight hours of environmental education training for 15 Peace Corps volunteers. Sessions included appropriate teaching topics for youth and adults, teaching strategies, and adapting lessons to local audiences.
Trained 30 Peace Corps volunteers in basic tree nursery management and local gardening techniques.
Selected as member of Volunteer Support Network, serving as a confidential resource for volunteers in need of mental health support. Trained in conflict resolution and listening skills.
As a Peace Corps Volunteer, Ms. Downs' personal achievements include the following:
· Attained conversational proficiency in Mandinka and scored Advanced-Mid on the Language Proficiency Interview Exam.
· Integrated fully into a rural, non-English speaking community, building close relationships with people of varying levels of formal education.
· Lived in modest conditions with no electricity or running water for two years, becoming a productive member of the community and adapting to life and work in an African village.
On January 14, 2009, Ms. Downs was sworn in as a United States Peace Corps Volunteer in the Environment and Natural Resource Management sector. She was placed in the rural village of Kafuta, a Mandinka community with 5,000 residents located in Kombo East, Western Region. There she worked with local residents to plan and develop sustainable projects and meet the need for educated extension workers, as well as managing larger projects regionally and nationally. Ms. Downs served as National Coordinator for the Gambia All Schools Tree Nursery Competition (GASTNC), worked with the Kombo-Foni Forestry Association (KOMFFORA) on regional forestry projects and organizational management skills, and facilitated the formation and management of a local cashew growers cooperative. She also worked with numerous individuals on grassroots development efforts, with projects ranging from malaria prevention methods to water and sanitation projects to computer literacy.
Ms. Downs’ primary achievements as an Environment and Natural Resource Management (ENRM) volunteer were as follows:
Collaborated with government officials on the National Coordinating committee for GASTNC, a joint effort with the Department of Education and the Department of Forestry that oversaw the planting of 10,000 trees by 260 schools each year.
Facilitated the transfer of responsibility for GASTNC funding from Peace Corps to the Department of Education, making the project sustainable without the necessity of donor funds.
Updated and revised manual for schools participating in GASTNC, including guidelines on nursery management, environmental education techniques, out-planting methods, and tree-specific information, disseminated to schools nation-wide.
Managed multi-agency GASTNC judging treks for Western Region and Kombo Municipal District. Kept records of nursery and out-planting results for participating schools, advised garden masters on environmental education techniques and nursery management methods, and awarded prizes.
Developed publicity campaign for GASTNC, including spots on local TV station, panel discussions, fliers for schools, and prize ceremonies in two regions covered by television, radio, and newspapers.
Launched One Man, One Tree, a regional tree planting campaign with KOMFFORA that facilitated the planting of 45,000 trees per year in community forests of Western Region communities.
Developed a five year action plan and budget for KOMFFORA. Reinforced grant-writing techniques and advised in project design and management. Provided capacity building training for KOMFFORA executive committee members.
Conducted regional mangrove rehabilitation project, a joint effort of KOMFFORA and World Wildlife Fund (WWF), resulting in the planting of 38,000 mangroves over 15 hectares in five villages.
Ms. Downs' secondary projects as an ENRM volunteer were as follows:
Guided 60 local cashew farmers in the formation of the Jarisu Cashew Farmers Association, through which 10 tons of raw cashew were sold cooperatively. Advised farmers on constitution writing, marketing techniques, and record-keeping.
Conducted local-language trainings for cashew farmers using Farmer Field School technique promoted by International Relief and Development (IRD). Trainings focused on best practices for orchard management, business and entrepreneurial skills, and post-harvest best practices.
Nursed and out-planted 200 mahogany seedlings in community forest.
Instructed 40 forestry students in environmental education techniques. Facilitated 3 environmental education lessons led by forestry students for 100 Lower Basic School students.
Introduced 40 forestry students to basic seed preparation and nursery management techniques.
Trained Lower Basic School staff members in grant writing and project management techniques. Received funds through the United States Embassy Self Help Fund to improve school structures, and Friends of Gambian Schools funding to re-construct a garden wall. Worked with school officials and students to set up a school garden.
Supervised a Water and Sanitation project to improve water facilities at the Upper Basic School, made possible by a Small Project Assistance grant. Project included installation of solar-powered pump and three taps.
Conducted informal pest management and soil improvement talks with 60 women in 4 community gardens, leading to the adoption of simple local practices that increased garden yields.
Ms. Downs also extended her volunteer service to work within the education and health and community development sectors:
· Instructed 50 villagers in malaria prevention methods, including preparation of natural mosquito repellant. Advised three individuals in successful small enterprise development projects based on mosquito repellant production and sale.
· Conducted after school tutoring sessions in general science, math, and test taking strategies for 50 Upper Basic School students.
· Developed curriculum for and instructed one year computer literacy class for 100 high school students. Adapted curriculum, taught, and trained instructor for computer literacy courses at local skills center. Resulted in 50 students certificated in basic computer skills.
Leadership and training roles within Peace Corps:
Planned and implemented eight hours of environmental education training for 15 Peace Corps volunteers. Sessions included appropriate teaching topics for youth and adults, teaching strategies, and adapting lessons to local audiences.
Trained 30 Peace Corps volunteers in basic tree nursery management and local gardening techniques.
Selected as member of Volunteer Support Network, serving as a confidential resource for volunteers in need of mental health support. Trained in conflict resolution and listening skills.
As a Peace Corps Volunteer, Ms. Downs' personal achievements include the following:
· Attained conversational proficiency in Mandinka and scored Advanced-Mid on the Language Proficiency Interview Exam.
· Integrated fully into a rural, non-English speaking community, building close relationships with people of varying levels of formal education.
· Lived in modest conditions with no electricity or running water for two years, becoming a productive member of the community and adapting to life and work in an African village.
Monday, October 18, 2010
Adventures in River Reforestation
First off, sorry for the long, long delay in posting. It's just been hectic, and posting a blog takes some dedicated time, even short ones like mine.
Lately, I've been working with the community forestry association on a mangrove reforestation project in Western Region. It's been fun, exhausting... the usual in The Gambia. But mostly it's been exciting for me to see the association finally able to take on a project with full funding support, so they can really make some effective progress and not have to worry about the usual hassles of no money to buy lunch, no money to buy phone credit, no money to pay transport. Suddenly, here we are with plenty of funding thanks to the WWF and boy are we working it. In two weeks, we planted more than 37,000 mangroves over 15 hectares in 5 villages. Here's how it works:
Our first job is to go collect little mangrove seedlings. If you've never seen a mangrove seedling before, it's pretty cool and unusual. Most trees make seeds that fall to the ground and a little tree germinates and grows. Mangroves have flowers that send out shoots that get longer and longer until they eventually touch the ground and become a root. And a new tree is born. So our job is to go to an area with lots of mangroves that are producing seedlings, and snap off the seedlings to take somewhere else.
A group of about 13 of us went to the mighty River Gambia and took a boat out to collect as many seedlings as we could. We had several strategies. The first was to get out of the boat at low tide and wade around in the mud to collect the seedlings from the trees. Major drawback to this strategy: really sharp oyster shells embedded in the mud! And the inability to keep your shoes on since the mud is so soft. After about an hour of wading gingerly around, I had had enough and decided I would keep my feet in the boat.
Some of the men decided to climb up in the mangroves to collect all the seedlings growing at the top. This worked really well, although none of us ladies were brave enough to make the climb. Instead, we decided on division of labor. One set of motivated dudes stayed up in the trees while another set held the rice bags to collect all the seedlings. Then the seedlings were brought back to the boat where the ladies popped the tops off and stored them carefully for transport. Not a bad system, and my feet didn't hurt.
At high tide we were able to all stay in the boat, since we could get it closer to the mangroves. This was nice, although moving the boat around was funny. We just grabbed some mangrove branches and pulled in order to shimmy the boat left of right.
After a day of collecting, we had about 9 rice bags of mangroves. We collected for two full days in order to have enough seedlings to plant in 5 villages. These days were long and hot, but since we were on teh river I took the opportunity to go for a swim. Some of the girls joined me. Luckily the great River Gambia is not too deep, because most of the people on the boat couldn't swim.
Mangrove plantings were fairly quick, although sometimes the days were long because the river is tidal and we didn't always predict accurately when the tide would be in. So there were a few villages where we sat around for most of the day waiting for the tide to go back out so we could plant our trees. Then it was all about organizing the crowd so we could make straight lines and have accurate spacing. More complicated than it sounds... Techniques we used included using a tape measure, having boys hold hands and walk in "straight" lines, having a set of people in charge of dragging their feet to draw squares while other people followed along planting behind them.
Predictably, there was chaos. But all in all it was a really positive project and generated some great publicity about mangrove planting. I was interviewed for the radio 4 times (once in Mandinka, eek!), and on the last day of planting lots of important government officials showed up to get some face time. Lesson learned: with a little bit of support (okay, let me not be vague: MONEY!), doing large scale projects can be simple and effective. In two weeks, we planted 37,000 mangroves! What's not to like?
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
When it rains, it pours.
We've had some major rain storms here in The Gambia during the past week. After hearing about all the floods all over the world, it makes me pretty nervous. My road has always had some pretty poor drainage, made worse by the improvement of the South Bank road that runs through my village. In an "effort" to stem these drainage problems, the commercial farm in my village sent out a bulldozer to do this to my road:
This is my backyard. All that brown is water. I have a step down from my house about 6 or 8 inches high. The water was creeping over it just when the rain let up. Thank you, rain god, for stopping just in the nick of time. The other houses in my compound weren't so lucky. We had flooding, but luckily my host fathers built sturdy houses so nothing crashed.
This is the inside of my compound. That's a lot of water... This didn't happen last year. True, the rains were heavier, but I'm going to blame this issue on questionable water management techniques. The boys in my compound spent the whole night bailing out their houses, and all of the next day the neighborhood was working on the road. All this while fasting for Ramadan! Life... it's not easy.
Hmmm... an impassable awkward pile of dirt. Yes, this will surely stem the flooding/standing water issues on this road. The theory was put to the test this week when we had some of the biggest storms I've experienced since I've lived here. Houses fell down, compounds were flooded, and my road turned into a river... When that river reached the dam of mud, we got a lake!
This is my backyard. All that brown is water. I have a step down from my house about 6 or 8 inches high. The water was creeping over it just when the rain let up. Thank you, rain god, for stopping just in the nick of time. The other houses in my compound weren't so lucky. We had flooding, but luckily my host fathers built sturdy houses so nothing crashed.
This is the inside of my compound. That's a lot of water... This didn't happen last year. True, the rains were heavier, but I'm going to blame this issue on questionable water management techniques. The boys in my compound spent the whole night bailing out their houses, and all of the next day the neighborhood was working on the road. All this while fasting for Ramadan! Life... it's not easy.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Vacation in The USA
Well, I'm back from an almost-month-long trip to the good ol' USA. Here's a little recap of my whirlwind cross-country adventures:
Mexican food and IPA. Welcome back, Me!
These girls make California the great state it is.
Firstly: Four short days in California filled with eating, drinking, eating, drinking, and hanging out. Saw some faces I missed, went to my lovely, funny, soccer-mom filled gym, and got used to being back in the States.
Mexican food and IPA. Welcome back, Me!
These girls make California the great state it is.
Then, over to DC to check out my boyfriend on his home turf. We ate extremely large pizza slices, rode around in a convertible, and explored our nation's capitol. I remembered more things that are great about America: sushi, air conditioning, free museums (wait, actually, just MUSEUMS!), large open public spaces.
A short but sweet weekend, then back to California. My carbon-footprint has skyrocketed... Back at home, I made sure to soak up the best California has to offer. Went to a Giants game with the family. Sadly, I guess I am not their lucky charm.
Went to Davis to see my sister and all the scholarly things she has been up to. Being gone two years you really get to be out of touch. Now I'm caught up on tomato genetics and the food choices of Davis, California.
Look how grown up and pretty she is!
Then I said my goodbyes to San Francisco. More fun nights and days with friends. Saw my grandma and my mom's knee surgery scars, some days were cold, some were warm... sort of. The whole vacation was great, but the real reason I came home was to go to my college roomate Annie Chang's (well, Brewer now) wedding in Montana. So here I go again, off to another state. This time, the Mountains!
Another fun week followed, full of hiking, swimming, trampoline-ing, flower arranging, hula-hooping, and campfires. Montana was beautiful and full of fun, outdoors-y things to do. And I got to see my girls again!
I can't believe it's been two years since we've been together. We can still have a dance party like nobody's business. And seeing my friend Annie C. get married, well, I wouldn't have missed that for anything, so thanks to everyone who helped get me home. Now, one last push in The Gambia before I wrap up my life as a Peace Corps Volunteer!
Monday, July 5, 2010
A funny thing happened on the way to Albreda: A travel story
Here's just a funny example of travelling in The Gambia. Even when you think you're travelling in style, anything can happen.
This past week I went to a workshop in Albreda to talk about one of my favorite subjects: Cashews! Albreda is a really nice village on the North Bank, with lots of history (it's where Alex Haley traced his Roots). But, like any nice village on the North Bank, you have a heck of a lot of travelling to do to get there since there are no bridges in this country (okay okay, there are two, if I must be accurate). I wasn't too phased by the thought of travelling though, since Jeff was also going with an IRD vehicle and they said I could just go with them.
Around 2pm, I met a very annoyed Jeff with the IRD car. In theory, the car should have gone to the ferry in the morning, since they can fit many people on one ferry, but not so many cars. Usually a car has to wait for at least 2 ferries to come before it can get on, whereas people on their own can just cross right away. So we were supposed to meet the car on the other side, but now we were all going together.
When we got to the ferry, Jeff and I decided to do a little shopping in Banjul and get some snacks. We bought umbrellas and smoothies and headed back to the car. A ferry came, a ferry went... Around 5:30, we decided to stop waiting for the car and cross to the other side. That way we could watch the World Cup game at a video club, relax, and when the car got across we'd all move together.
Well, we crossed. And just as we got to the other side the thunder, lightening, and wind started. It's going to rain. No problem, we'll just head for the video club to watch the game. So we did. It begins to pour while we're in the little dark room, and when the game is over it's still pouring, the car is still not across, and oh, did I mention we left our brand new umbrellas in the car?
By 9pm, there is still no car. Jeff is grumpy from not eating and has managed to lose his sunglasses. I really have to pee. We find a spot where he can get a chicken sandwich, but there are no bathrooms around and I don't really want to leave the protection of the small corrugate iron hangover to go traipsing about in the dark and rain. So I hang in there... Until I can't anymore and find a "hidden" spot to pee. I pray that there will be no lightening. And I also manage to pee all over one leg of my jeans. Great. At least that man who walked by didn't turn his head in my direction.
The car finally arrives around 9:45. We are all very grumpy. Olu, one of Jeff's co-workers, who is running the workshop, grumbles in the car. 9:48.... 9:51.... Ugh. We manage to get lost several times on little dirt roads before we finally make it to Albreda, where everyone has gone to bed early and the lodge has put off their electricity. Better late than never.
This past week I went to a workshop in Albreda to talk about one of my favorite subjects: Cashews! Albreda is a really nice village on the North Bank, with lots of history (it's where Alex Haley traced his Roots). But, like any nice village on the North Bank, you have a heck of a lot of travelling to do to get there since there are no bridges in this country (okay okay, there are two, if I must be accurate). I wasn't too phased by the thought of travelling though, since Jeff was also going with an IRD vehicle and they said I could just go with them.
Around 2pm, I met a very annoyed Jeff with the IRD car. In theory, the car should have gone to the ferry in the morning, since they can fit many people on one ferry, but not so many cars. Usually a car has to wait for at least 2 ferries to come before it can get on, whereas people on their own can just cross right away. So we were supposed to meet the car on the other side, but now we were all going together.
When we got to the ferry, Jeff and I decided to do a little shopping in Banjul and get some snacks. We bought umbrellas and smoothies and headed back to the car. A ferry came, a ferry went... Around 5:30, we decided to stop waiting for the car and cross to the other side. That way we could watch the World Cup game at a video club, relax, and when the car got across we'd all move together.
Well, we crossed. And just as we got to the other side the thunder, lightening, and wind started. It's going to rain. No problem, we'll just head for the video club to watch the game. So we did. It begins to pour while we're in the little dark room, and when the game is over it's still pouring, the car is still not across, and oh, did I mention we left our brand new umbrellas in the car?
By 9pm, there is still no car. Jeff is grumpy from not eating and has managed to lose his sunglasses. I really have to pee. We find a spot where he can get a chicken sandwich, but there are no bathrooms around and I don't really want to leave the protection of the small corrugate iron hangover to go traipsing about in the dark and rain. So I hang in there... Until I can't anymore and find a "hidden" spot to pee. I pray that there will be no lightening. And I also manage to pee all over one leg of my jeans. Great. At least that man who walked by didn't turn his head in my direction.
The car finally arrives around 9:45. We are all very grumpy. Olu, one of Jeff's co-workers, who is running the workshop, grumbles in the car. 9:48.... 9:51.... Ugh. We manage to get lost several times on little dirt roads before we finally make it to Albreda, where everyone has gone to bed early and the lodge has put off their electricity. Better late than never.
World Cupo
As you might have guessed, it has been world cup fever over here in The Gambia, and in all of Africa. I've been trying to keep up with as many games as I can, and it's raised some interesting issues, especially: Electricity! How do you watch the most popular sporting event in the world in a place with no electricity? The Answer: Video Clubs.
When I'm in Fajara, I've watched some games in cushy restaurants, where we can eat chicken or hamburgers and watch on nice TVs while sitting in comfy chairs. The first US game, for example, we all high-tailed it over to the British High Commission, where they have a bar and a swimming pool (no fair!) and did our country proud. Even the US Ambassador came.
When I'm in Fajara, I've watched some games in cushy restaurants, where we can eat chicken or hamburgers and watch on nice TVs while sitting in comfy chairs. The first US game, for example, we all high-tailed it over to the British High Commission, where they have a bar and a swimming pool (no fair!) and did our country proud. Even the US Ambassador came.
In village, it's another story. Since the world cup started, a whole host of video clubs have popped up. With no electricity, this means that someone has to invest in a TV, a satellite, and a generator to power the whole set up. Then they charge the crowd 5 or 10 dalasis each to come watch the game. This means sitting in a hot, crowded room with little air circulation and small hard benches for 2 and a half hours. But it's worth it, and you can't beat the team spirit (unless you're the only person rooting for America, like I was during the Ghana game).
Even when you watch a game in a nice restaurant, you can't be guaranteed the electricity will be on your side. We've had several power outages that have left us on edge for 20 minutes at a time. Or when it rains, the satellite is done for. In those situations you rely on GRTS, the fuzzy local network, and that's also got it's up-sides. Mainly, a scroll bar that you can text in to, in theory, say which team you support. There have been some pretty good times with that, sending each other messages and in general pushing the boundaries of what should probably get aired on TV...
Even though I'm not in South Africa, I have to say watching the World Cup on African soil this year has been pretty special, with lots of African pride.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Funny Things
I'm having a bit of trouble coming up with a blog post, and I know I'm overdue for one, so what I present to you are bits and pieces. Funny things. Random facts.
My counterpart Seeku had an awards ceremony recently to honor all the people who have worked with his community forest association/get his name out there to the bigger NGOs. There was a lot of food. Before these guys came and sat down with me, I had these three bowls all to myself...
Here are some funny pictures I took at my friend Hawa's house. My toma picking her nose (this is considered civilized) and Mustapha wearing a head scarf (not civilized, if you're a boy).
Really the big news is that the rainy season has come again. This means there's a big gross puddle of standing water in front of my house that big trucks get stuck in on a daily basis, people are starting to head to the fields to farm, and there are TONS of bugs. I don't think you would believe these bright red bugs until you see them. They look like little bits of chanille stems. Kind of out-of-this word. They're about the size of my fingernail, and I don't really think this picture does them justice, but it'll give you an idea. They look even more neon in real life.
Like I said, I was having a hard time coming up with a blog theme... So that's all I've got for you. Mostly I'm just thinking VACATION! One more month to go, then I'm heading to Morocco and the good ol' USA.
My counterpart Seeku had an awards ceremony recently to honor all the people who have worked with his community forest association/get his name out there to the bigger NGOs. There was a lot of food. Before these guys came and sat down with me, I had these three bowls all to myself...
Here are some funny pictures I took at my friend Hawa's house. My toma picking her nose (this is considered civilized) and Mustapha wearing a head scarf (not civilized, if you're a boy).
Really the big news is that the rainy season has come again. This means there's a big gross puddle of standing water in front of my house that big trucks get stuck in on a daily basis, people are starting to head to the fields to farm, and there are TONS of bugs. I don't think you would believe these bright red bugs until you see them. They look like little bits of chanille stems. Kind of out-of-this word. They're about the size of my fingernail, and I don't really think this picture does them justice, but it'll give you an idea. They look even more neon in real life.
Like I said, I was having a hard time coming up with a blog theme... So that's all I've got for you. Mostly I'm just thinking VACATION! One more month to go, then I'm heading to Morocco and the good ol' USA.
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Cashew is BUSINESS!
I might have mentioned before that one of the big projects I'm working on in my village is helping all the old cashew growers establish an association, work on establishing best practices so they can gain a good reputation for their cashew nuts, and help them make more money in the long haul. This project so far is going really well. First of all, working with a bunch of old guys is cool. Makes me feel very integrated. But more importantly for the community as a whole, the association is really working. Cashew is a cash crop in The Gambia, and if you have a large cashew orchard you can make yourself as much money in one growing season as a teacher makes in the entire year in this country. Which is not very much, but if its comparable to a years salary, it's survivable. And it only takes about 3-4 months of work every year.
What I set out to do with the association was make them think about cashew from the business point of view, not just the farming side. Usually middle men come around and buy the unprocessed cashew nuts off of the farmers. This year, the association interviewed the four major cashew exporters in the country and decided to make a deal with one of them instead of selling to middle men. So now, they collectively get to pocket all the money that the middle men were taking for themselves. A pretty good bargain if you ask me.
It also means that as a group they are able to save money. The association takes 50 bhututs (that's maybe 2 cents or something equivalently small) from every kilo they sell and puts it in the group's savings account. By the end of the season, they'll probably have about 5,000 - 10,000 dalasis that they can use on their own development, like giving farmers loans to buy fences, etc.
This is Dembo and a boy from around town carrying his cashew into storage. One bag of cashew weighs about 50 kilos. A normal selling price is maybe 15 dalasis/kilo, so a farmer makes about 30 dollars from one of these bags. This year is lucky for the Gambia, because all the neighjboring countries had hot weather and their first harvest shriveled. One person's disaster is another's blessing, and due to the low supply Gambian farmers are raking it up. Right now they're selling for around 19 dalasis/kilo, which is the highest price I have ever heard of in this country.
What I set out to do with the association was make them think about cashew from the business point of view, not just the farming side. Usually middle men come around and buy the unprocessed cashew nuts off of the farmers. This year, the association interviewed the four major cashew exporters in the country and decided to make a deal with one of them instead of selling to middle men. So now, they collectively get to pocket all the money that the middle men were taking for themselves. A pretty good bargain if you ask me.
It also means that as a group they are able to save money. The association takes 50 bhututs (that's maybe 2 cents or something equivalently small) from every kilo they sell and puts it in the group's savings account. By the end of the season, they'll probably have about 5,000 - 10,000 dalasis that they can use on their own development, like giving farmers loans to buy fences, etc.
This is Dembo and a boy from around town carrying his cashew into storage. One bag of cashew weighs about 50 kilos. A normal selling price is maybe 15 dalasis/kilo, so a farmer makes about 30 dollars from one of these bags. This year is lucky for the Gambia, because all the neighjboring countries had hot weather and their first harvest shriveled. One person's disaster is another's blessing, and due to the low supply Gambian farmers are raking it up. Right now they're selling for around 19 dalasis/kilo, which is the highest price I have ever heard of in this country.
Having an association also means more responsibility for guys like Dembo, our cashier. He handles huge stacks of money that are forwarded to us from the exporter, buying cashews from all the other men in the village and setting a bit aside for the association. He's keeping records, weighing cashews, keeping very busy. But it's working. Even when I'm not around to remind them, the group makes sure they're up to date on how much money has been spent, how much is left, and is keeping in touch with the buyer to learn about price changes. I feel like a proud mama.
Picture Post
Here are just a few random picture tidbits to keep your mind occupied. The lazy man's blog update.
These are some of the girls from my tekla. We had asobe made. I'm sure I've told you before matching outfits are all the rage. We've been wearing it like crazy around town, but sadly no one has the photography skills to include me in a decent picture. Use your imagination.
This is a big ol' pot of benachin at the Konteh Kunda naming ceremony, where both my toma and my mom's toma, plus two more kids who have no special toma-relationship with me, got to celebrate themselves.
These are some of the girls from my tekla. We had asobe made. I'm sure I've told you before matching outfits are all the rage. We've been wearing it like crazy around town, but sadly no one has the photography skills to include me in a decent picture. Use your imagination.
This is a big ol' pot of benachin at the Konteh Kunda naming ceremony, where both my toma and my mom's toma, plus two more kids who have no special toma-relationship with me, got to celebrate themselves.
Matching outfits again! These are Western Region PCVs at the All Volunteer conference. If you're not matching, you're not in the in crowd.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Interhouse
I don't know if I wrote a post about this last year, but interhouse is one of my very favorite Gambian events, and I can't let it pass unnoticed (okay, well it already passed, but better late than never, right?).
What is interhouse? Only the finest modern childrens sporting event in West Africa. At interhouse, the Upper Basic School divides itself into four houses, sort of like Harry Potter. This year the high school in the next village also competed, so we had a total of five teams. Then, they all run races and do other track and field-type events. (Side note: they also do this at the lower basic school, but instead of foot races, they do relays like the "carry a bucket of water on your head" race. Hilarious.)
What makes interhouse so amazing is the drama. This isn't any old American-style tournament. In this competition, if you're losing the race you might as well dramatically pass out in the middle of the track, showing the audience how difficult running 100 meters truly is. There are no losers, only drama queens.
When a competitor passes out, it's the job of the Red Cross Club to run to them with the stretcher. As you might imagine, the Red Cross Club was very busy. In each race, they had at least one person they needed to put on the stretcher. The "exhausted" racer would lie in the stretcher for a minute, and then be cured.
I worked at the judges table for interhouse, recording which teams won the races. Runners would come with cards showing how many points they got for each race, then as soon as they gave the cards to the judges they would collapse and roll in the dirt, practically having seizures to show you how exhausted they are, until they get up and straighten their wigs out. That's right, the girls run in their fancy wigs. You have to look smart for interhouse. All the girls who just come to watch wear their western-style made-in-China best. This means tight tight tight plaid jeans, synthetic tops, and other clothing items that might have them mistaken for street walkers in America. But in Gambia, they're looking smart. And the runners also take the opportunity to show off, running in miniskirts and other "work out" gear. A little bit of running, a lot of high quality performance art.
What is interhouse? Only the finest modern childrens sporting event in West Africa. At interhouse, the Upper Basic School divides itself into four houses, sort of like Harry Potter. This year the high school in the next village also competed, so we had a total of five teams. Then, they all run races and do other track and field-type events. (Side note: they also do this at the lower basic school, but instead of foot races, they do relays like the "carry a bucket of water on your head" race. Hilarious.)
What makes interhouse so amazing is the drama. This isn't any old American-style tournament. In this competition, if you're losing the race you might as well dramatically pass out in the middle of the track, showing the audience how difficult running 100 meters truly is. There are no losers, only drama queens.
When a competitor passes out, it's the job of the Red Cross Club to run to them with the stretcher. As you might imagine, the Red Cross Club was very busy. In each race, they had at least one person they needed to put on the stretcher. The "exhausted" racer would lie in the stretcher for a minute, and then be cured.
I worked at the judges table for interhouse, recording which teams won the races. Runners would come with cards showing how many points they got for each race, then as soon as they gave the cards to the judges they would collapse and roll in the dirt, practically having seizures to show you how exhausted they are, until they get up and straighten their wigs out. That's right, the girls run in their fancy wigs. You have to look smart for interhouse. All the girls who just come to watch wear their western-style made-in-China best. This means tight tight tight plaid jeans, synthetic tops, and other clothing items that might have them mistaken for street walkers in America. But in Gambia, they're looking smart. And the runners also take the opportunity to show off, running in miniskirts and other "work out" gear. A little bit of running, a lot of high quality performance art.
Friday, March 19, 2010
Tekila: A biweekly dance party
A few months ago a few of my friends in village told me they were organizing a Tekila, and I decided to join for the many perks it includes. A Tekila is sort of like an old-fashioned lottery/savings account mixed with a dance party. My group is made up of 35 girls about my age (which means that I'm basically one of the few not toting around a baby) who get together on the first of the month and on the 15th for an hour of drinking attaya and juice, singing and dancing. For me, it's a great way to get more integrated with a part of my village I don't really work with, and therefore don't know as well. For about two hours every two weeks, we shake our butts and bang on plastic bidongs in celebration.
The point of the Tekila isn't just to dance. When the group was formed, we all wrote our names on slips of paper. At every meeting, one name is drawn. This person is the lucky recipient of the prize money. Each girl contributes 25 dalasis each meeting, which means that when your name is drawn you get a lump sum of 875 dalasis. If you do the math, over the course of all the meetings you contribute exactly as much as you win, so you're not really coming out on top. But in this society saving is really hard, so while it's easy for each woman to find 25 dalasis to pay every two weeks, it would be rare to find someone who saved that 25 dalasis on their own initiative until they had 875 dalasis. So this is like tricking the women into saving. Keep contributing 25 dalasis, and at some point you'll find a large sum of money in your pocket. The women can do whatever they want with the money. Their only commitment is to host the next meeting at their house and supply the snacks and beverages.
The funny thing about my Tekila is that every single time, without fail, at least one hour of the meeting is spent arguing over how late fees should be charged, how many meetings you're allowed to miss, blah dee blah blah. Always the exact same subjects each time. Nothing is ever done, and frankly nothing really needs to be done because everyone pays up eventually. But it's tradition. We have a Tekila mother who is supposed to iron these things out and remind us that we came to party.
And party is in fact what we do. Everyone sits in a circle and people bang on various cooking utensils converted into instruments. Every girl is supposed to dance a few times in the middle of the circle during the meeting (which at first was kind of embarassing for me... I can dance in a club, but dancing African-style while someone bangs on some pastic with a stick is a little beyond me. I got over it though. I had to.). Some of the ladies are pretty bad dancers, but there are a few who can really shake it. African dancing is all about jumping up and down and sticking your butt out. One girl named Kaddy is the best. We had some excitement at the last meeting when she was dancing in the circle and her bin-bin broke. Binbin are basically a sexual accessory that every single Gambian woman wears. It's a string of beads your wear around your waist and the bigger they are, and the more they clack together, the sexier it is. But no one is ever supposed to see your bin-bin, and it's pretty scandalous if someone's are showing. Kaddy's bin-bin broke as she was dancing and beads just rained down out of her skirt. It was like a pinata, with all the (few) single ladies rushing to pick up the beads. Turns out collecting fallen bin-bin beads is a good luck charm, like catching the bouquet at a wedding. My friend Hawa collected a bunch because she wants to get married now now. A lot of the girls gave their beads to me... Not sure how I feel about that really.
Cross your fingers that I win the money the next time. I'm getting anxious for some profit!
The point of the Tekila isn't just to dance. When the group was formed, we all wrote our names on slips of paper. At every meeting, one name is drawn. This person is the lucky recipient of the prize money. Each girl contributes 25 dalasis each meeting, which means that when your name is drawn you get a lump sum of 875 dalasis. If you do the math, over the course of all the meetings you contribute exactly as much as you win, so you're not really coming out on top. But in this society saving is really hard, so while it's easy for each woman to find 25 dalasis to pay every two weeks, it would be rare to find someone who saved that 25 dalasis on their own initiative until they had 875 dalasis. So this is like tricking the women into saving. Keep contributing 25 dalasis, and at some point you'll find a large sum of money in your pocket. The women can do whatever they want with the money. Their only commitment is to host the next meeting at their house and supply the snacks and beverages.
The funny thing about my Tekila is that every single time, without fail, at least one hour of the meeting is spent arguing over how late fees should be charged, how many meetings you're allowed to miss, blah dee blah blah. Always the exact same subjects each time. Nothing is ever done, and frankly nothing really needs to be done because everyone pays up eventually. But it's tradition. We have a Tekila mother who is supposed to iron these things out and remind us that we came to party.
And party is in fact what we do. Everyone sits in a circle and people bang on various cooking utensils converted into instruments. Every girl is supposed to dance a few times in the middle of the circle during the meeting (which at first was kind of embarassing for me... I can dance in a club, but dancing African-style while someone bangs on some pastic with a stick is a little beyond me. I got over it though. I had to.). Some of the ladies are pretty bad dancers, but there are a few who can really shake it. African dancing is all about jumping up and down and sticking your butt out. One girl named Kaddy is the best. We had some excitement at the last meeting when she was dancing in the circle and her bin-bin broke. Binbin are basically a sexual accessory that every single Gambian woman wears. It's a string of beads your wear around your waist and the bigger they are, and the more they clack together, the sexier it is. But no one is ever supposed to see your bin-bin, and it's pretty scandalous if someone's are showing. Kaddy's bin-bin broke as she was dancing and beads just rained down out of her skirt. It was like a pinata, with all the (few) single ladies rushing to pick up the beads. Turns out collecting fallen bin-bin beads is a good luck charm, like catching the bouquet at a wedding. My friend Hawa collected a bunch because she wants to get married now now. A lot of the girls gave their beads to me... Not sure how I feel about that really.
Cross your fingers that I win the money the next time. I'm getting anxious for some profit!
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Workshops: More like shopping, less like working
I've been ruminating the deep internal flaws of the development system in this country for the past year or so, and in a horribly dramatic turn of events yesterday I faced an excellent illustration of the problem. I've been working with the farmers in my village to organize themselves when they sell their cashews so that they can have more bargaining power and hopefully oust the middle men buyers completely, selling as a block to the major exporters. We've had a lot of really excellent support from one NGO in particular, who has helped us write a constitution for our association, gotten the farmers to understand the possibilities of the cashew business, and provided some really great resources for us as a village. One of the activities this NGO has decided to carry out in the long term is a sort of ripple-effect education system, where villages choose several people to represent them at workshops, and those people are then responsible for bringing the information back to the village and teaching the farmers in an organized way the things they learned. It's a great idea, and I see a lot of potential in it. My village selected two really capable, smart men to represent us, and off we went to our first workshop to see what we would learn (I went too, just to see what they were learning so I could help where I could).
In the Gambia, there is rule, precedent, law - I'm not really sure which it is, depends who you ask - that people at workshops should be compensated for their time. So while in America you might pay to go to a workshop to learn interesting and valuable skills, here you get paid to attend. In theory, this should balance the scales, allowing people who can't afford to close shop for a day to have the same opportunities as everyone else. In reality, it has morphed into a culture where people go to as many workshops as they can, not to learn the information, but instead to eat meat, drink soda, and pad their pockets with cash. Not only that, they have come to see their per diem not as a welcome bonus, but as an inalienable right and if it is not high enough, then they will not bother.
Do all people feel this way? Certainly no. At this particular workshop there were several groups of people from different parts of SeneGambia, and it was clear that certain groups were intent upon exploiting the system, while others were content to be there and learn what they came to learn. Anyway, there were lots of interesting items on the agenda, but the first thing was determining per diem. The NGO's offer: 100 dalasis a day (this is including all meals, lodging, and transport costs and in my opinion is totally reasonable based on the average Gambian salary. Heck, it's even generous based on my own salary). The counter offer (from the vocal crowd): 700 dalasis per day. This is incredibly exorbitant. If per diem is to compensate you for the time you are not able to work, then people are saying that every day they were not at the workshop they would be making 700 dalasis. If this were true, each person would be making about 11,000 dollars a year. Just to put this in perspective, I make 2,000 dollars a year, and my salary is fairly high compared to most people in this country. I can live well, go on trips, and buy cheese when I want it.
The organizers of the workshop, in an incredible show of patience, said that they would take the offers back to the big boss and see what she had to say. Obviously, she said no way, and they came back with an offer of 250 dalasis. My issues with this: By making per diem negotiable, they are essentially exacerbating the problem. People see that they have the power to hold up workshops and demand money from people who are there to try to help them, and they continue to exploit this. The people still weren't happy, and day 2 of the workshop erupted into argument. Lots of people were sitting quietly, wishing the argument would end so we could get on with it. Already hours and hours of our time had been wasted by this particular group of people. Finally, I thought to myself, I should really say something. So here is what I said:
This NGO has given us a good offer. For everyone in this room, the money that they are offering is a good amount. We came here to learn. We came here for knowledge. We came here to represent our villages and do what has been asked of us. We can't waste more time arguing. We need to save the arguments for an appropriate time and get on with learning.
An important note: Since this workshop was attended by various groups of people from both Senegal and Gambia, it was held in Wolof, a language which I don't speak but which most of the other people in the room do. So a certain man who works for a certain association in a certain large village and has a certain corrupt and arrogant aspect to his personality translated into Wolof for me. I'm not sure what he said, but it definitely wasn't what I said. The response from the crowd: Shouting that they were not poor, that they have taught at my universities, that I was no one to tell them such things. Hmmm... something was obviously lost... or added... in translation.
At this point, I left the workshop. Not only was time wasted, but I felt really disheartened by people in general. It's sad to think that people can't see that they are being helped. That actually work against development because they want money in their individual pockets now. For a lot of people at that workshop, the information the NGO is bringing will help them make more money for themselves in the long term. And lots of people did see that and didn't complain. But enough people completely missed the point that it made me lose a little faith in humanity. A lot of faith. The flaw is obviously deep within the development system, but to me it seems like there is also a flaw within certain people in that room. Everything is quick money and nothing is about long term understanding and knowledge. And in this case the goal of the organization is so clear: to help people make money in the cashew business! This is the kind of stuff people pay for, the secrets to getting rich, and so many people not only failed to see that but tried to ruin it. They threatened to tarnish the name of the NGO if they weren't paid enough. They said they would not participate in any more work unless they were paid more. They said the NGO was wicked and pocketing money they themselves deserved...
A good kick in the pants. That's what I wish for those people. And I would like to be the one to administer it.
In the Gambia, there is rule, precedent, law - I'm not really sure which it is, depends who you ask - that people at workshops should be compensated for their time. So while in America you might pay to go to a workshop to learn interesting and valuable skills, here you get paid to attend. In theory, this should balance the scales, allowing people who can't afford to close shop for a day to have the same opportunities as everyone else. In reality, it has morphed into a culture where people go to as many workshops as they can, not to learn the information, but instead to eat meat, drink soda, and pad their pockets with cash. Not only that, they have come to see their per diem not as a welcome bonus, but as an inalienable right and if it is not high enough, then they will not bother.
Do all people feel this way? Certainly no. At this particular workshop there were several groups of people from different parts of SeneGambia, and it was clear that certain groups were intent upon exploiting the system, while others were content to be there and learn what they came to learn. Anyway, there were lots of interesting items on the agenda, but the first thing was determining per diem. The NGO's offer: 100 dalasis a day (this is including all meals, lodging, and transport costs and in my opinion is totally reasonable based on the average Gambian salary. Heck, it's even generous based on my own salary). The counter offer (from the vocal crowd): 700 dalasis per day. This is incredibly exorbitant. If per diem is to compensate you for the time you are not able to work, then people are saying that every day they were not at the workshop they would be making 700 dalasis. If this were true, each person would be making about 11,000 dollars a year. Just to put this in perspective, I make 2,000 dollars a year, and my salary is fairly high compared to most people in this country. I can live well, go on trips, and buy cheese when I want it.
The organizers of the workshop, in an incredible show of patience, said that they would take the offers back to the big boss and see what she had to say. Obviously, she said no way, and they came back with an offer of 250 dalasis. My issues with this: By making per diem negotiable, they are essentially exacerbating the problem. People see that they have the power to hold up workshops and demand money from people who are there to try to help them, and they continue to exploit this. The people still weren't happy, and day 2 of the workshop erupted into argument. Lots of people were sitting quietly, wishing the argument would end so we could get on with it. Already hours and hours of our time had been wasted by this particular group of people. Finally, I thought to myself, I should really say something. So here is what I said:
This NGO has given us a good offer. For everyone in this room, the money that they are offering is a good amount. We came here to learn. We came here for knowledge. We came here to represent our villages and do what has been asked of us. We can't waste more time arguing. We need to save the arguments for an appropriate time and get on with learning.
An important note: Since this workshop was attended by various groups of people from both Senegal and Gambia, it was held in Wolof, a language which I don't speak but which most of the other people in the room do. So a certain man who works for a certain association in a certain large village and has a certain corrupt and arrogant aspect to his personality translated into Wolof for me. I'm not sure what he said, but it definitely wasn't what I said. The response from the crowd: Shouting that they were not poor, that they have taught at my universities, that I was no one to tell them such things. Hmmm... something was obviously lost... or added... in translation.
At this point, I left the workshop. Not only was time wasted, but I felt really disheartened by people in general. It's sad to think that people can't see that they are being helped. That actually work against development because they want money in their individual pockets now. For a lot of people at that workshop, the information the NGO is bringing will help them make more money for themselves in the long term. And lots of people did see that and didn't complain. But enough people completely missed the point that it made me lose a little faith in humanity. A lot of faith. The flaw is obviously deep within the development system, but to me it seems like there is also a flaw within certain people in that room. Everything is quick money and nothing is about long term understanding and knowledge. And in this case the goal of the organization is so clear: to help people make money in the cashew business! This is the kind of stuff people pay for, the secrets to getting rich, and so many people not only failed to see that but tried to ruin it. They threatened to tarnish the name of the NGO if they weren't paid enough. They said they would not participate in any more work unless they were paid more. They said the NGO was wicked and pocketing money they themselves deserved...
A good kick in the pants. That's what I wish for those people. And I would like to be the one to administer it.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
In Which Mom & Prudence Visit The Gambia
Sorry for the long, long break in posting. As they say here in The Gambia, It's Not Easy. But now I present you with a brief story of Mom & Prudence's adventure in West Africa.
First things first, Dakar. For me, Dakar is all about eating. For mom & Prudence, maybe not so much. No matter, we did a few culturally interesting things - checking out artists villages, looking at the one dusty museum they have in the city, listening to some very nice Senegalese music, shopping around for Tuareg jewellery (the best stuff you can buy in West Africa, in my opinion)... And then I encouraged the good eats. We had lobster at the Western-most point in Africa. Look at this. Makes you drool, huh?
Oh, I also began to teach mom the basics of bargaining, despite my extremely lacking knowledge of the French language. After a few days enjoying the relaxing (for me) and decrepit (for mom and Prudence) atmosphere of Dakar, we travelled overland to The Gambia. The first taste of Africa as I see it. We passed small bush villages, drove over salt flats, and in general ignored the places where the road said you should drive. Also, we shared the ferry over with some naughty cattle.
In Gambia, we relaxed on the beach in Sanyang and took it easy. Jeff came with us on a mini boat trip on The Gambian river where we saw such things as the Greater Spotted White Chested Plastic Bag (courtesy of the keen eyes of Captain Crocodile Dundee)and also some nice birds. Gambia was mostly about relaxation and seeing the real Gambian way of life.
After A few days getting used to the dust in Fajara, I took mom & Prudence up to Kafuta, where they were re-christened Mariama & Fatou and made up an interesting life story for themselves as Catholic sisters. My one-toothed host greeted them in his usual way: Elcome! Elcome! Elcome! Elcome! Then he insisted on a picture.
I organized the ladies to make baobab juice (with filtered water for the strangers). We had a nice little party where mom & Prudence doled out earrings, the ladies sat talking and holding babies, and the men questioned mom & Prudence on all topics taboo in polite conversation. Oh, there were dancing ladies in there at some point too.
The little kids managed to be less naughty then usual. Prudence, however, was her typical self.
After a sleepless night filled with the sounds of the konkuran, lizards in the ceiling, and Prudence's dreams of polar bears, they decided the thing to do was head back to Fajara. We squeezed in tours of all the schools, the hospital, and the forestry station, and had a giant breakfast served to us by one of my counterparts, and then we were off loaded with boabab, oranges, and other gifts. The end of the visit was mostly just fiddling around in Gambia: drinking cashew liquor (some good, some less than that), looking for music, being overwhelmed by the market. All in all, a good trip.
Speedy, I know, but it's lunch time!
First things first, Dakar. For me, Dakar is all about eating. For mom & Prudence, maybe not so much. No matter, we did a few culturally interesting things - checking out artists villages, looking at the one dusty museum they have in the city, listening to some very nice Senegalese music, shopping around for Tuareg jewellery (the best stuff you can buy in West Africa, in my opinion)... And then I encouraged the good eats. We had lobster at the Western-most point in Africa. Look at this. Makes you drool, huh?
Oh, I also began to teach mom the basics of bargaining, despite my extremely lacking knowledge of the French language. After a few days enjoying the relaxing (for me) and decrepit (for mom and Prudence) atmosphere of Dakar, we travelled overland to The Gambia. The first taste of Africa as I see it. We passed small bush villages, drove over salt flats, and in general ignored the places where the road said you should drive. Also, we shared the ferry over with some naughty cattle.
In Gambia, we relaxed on the beach in Sanyang and took it easy. Jeff came with us on a mini boat trip on The Gambian river where we saw such things as the Greater Spotted White Chested Plastic Bag (courtesy of the keen eyes of Captain Crocodile Dundee)and also some nice birds. Gambia was mostly about relaxation and seeing the real Gambian way of life.
After A few days getting used to the dust in Fajara, I took mom & Prudence up to Kafuta, where they were re-christened Mariama & Fatou and made up an interesting life story for themselves as Catholic sisters. My one-toothed host greeted them in his usual way: Elcome! Elcome! Elcome! Elcome! Then he insisted on a picture.
I organized the ladies to make baobab juice (with filtered water for the strangers). We had a nice little party where mom & Prudence doled out earrings, the ladies sat talking and holding babies, and the men questioned mom & Prudence on all topics taboo in polite conversation. Oh, there were dancing ladies in there at some point too.
The little kids managed to be less naughty then usual. Prudence, however, was her typical self.
After a sleepless night filled with the sounds of the konkuran, lizards in the ceiling, and Prudence's dreams of polar bears, they decided the thing to do was head back to Fajara. We squeezed in tours of all the schools, the hospital, and the forestry station, and had a giant breakfast served to us by one of my counterparts, and then we were off loaded with boabab, oranges, and other gifts. The end of the visit was mostly just fiddling around in Gambia: drinking cashew liquor (some good, some less than that), looking for music, being overwhelmed by the market. All in all, a good trip.Speedy, I know, but it's lunch time!
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