So in the last days at site, I see that the school and community have helped to collect sand to make bricks for the construction of a wall around the school with money that I helped to secure through the US Embassy, the library is functioning well with a very active library manager and interested students, I was able to pass 1,219.50 dalasis on to the administration at the school for use by the library (money which was raised by the library committee), some teachers are implementing methods and strategies that I presented in workshops during my time here (especially in the area of phonics), and I managed to sell a decent amount of NERICA rice for people to grow following the Food Crisis Forum which was held at the school and was one of the most successful things I have done here thus far. So all in all I am satisfied with my experience here. Here is the blog that I wrote about leaving site finally:

Before, I was upset that the time for me to go was drawing near. Then about four days ago a switch went off that completely changed my mind and made me really eager to get out of here. My time has come to leave a place that I've come to love and hate to extreme degrees on either side. This is a feeling one can only have about Africa because here is a place where the good things are so wonderful you can't think of a more beautiful this or that, but the bad things are so terrible you can hardly think of such atrocities on your own. This is probably more true in other parts of Africa and I think this factor is what draws people and what has drawn people in throughout time. But my time has come to leave the place and also to bring my experiences homeward.

Currently, leaving here seems like experiencing death with a fixed date. Since everyone knows when the day is coming, none hesitates to ask me to leave them this or that in rememberance.

"Awa Njie, so deme, nga may ma sa radio bun dow." [Awa Njie, if you leave, you give me your small radio.]

People are even competing to get certain things as if I am already gone and they are fighting over a will. But being that I know the date of my "death" as Awa Njie I have a sort of will and I sneak around in the night giving people things to remember me by. People are telling me not to go and how other Peace Corps Volunteers (six sofar in that community) have departed with not so much as a word. They talk about them as if they are dead, "Oh, that Ndey Sowe, she was friends with everyone, and she could speak Pular."

There is also the mysticism for nearly everyone about where I am going as if America is Heaven. Almost everyone thinks that America is a place where everyone has lots of money, at least one car, cold or hot water flowing from a tap right in your house, a job, and everyone is always having a good time. Sounds like an ideal place, but I calmly reassure people that although many people's lives are what you would consider easy, people still have problems there and many things in Kerr Pateh are magical to someone from the US like the large expanse of land with strange and beautiful trees and the sunset in the background or the way people will easily share what they have with you unlike anything I have experienced in the US. People here take those things for granted just like Americans take clean cold water flowing from a faucet in their houses for granted, even looking down on it and drinking bottled water in stead.

Another concern is if I leave, will I come back? This is a question often asked in a tone not unlike a curious child wondering what happens when someone dies. The people of Kerr Pateh have seen many PCV's leave and not come back or even write so why should I be any different? I tell them when I have time and money, I will come back but few of them believe me.

And what about my loss, I will be losing a family that has finally accepted me into their own, I will be losing friendships that will never again exist as they do now even if I do come back, I will lose the ability to communicate with many people in Kerr Pateh, and I will lose the all eyes on me, can't do anything wrong celebrity status that I don't really enjoy but will probably miss.

As my days here grow fewer, I grow more eager to go and more sure of what lies ahead as an old woman might finally accept her accomplishments, her failures, and the fate that we are all eventually given to. For me hopefully I will gracefully resume my life as Meagan Lombaer.

I grabbed a skirt and locked my door and rushed to jump on a horse cart to Nyengen with Awa, Fatou, and Fatou bu ndow Drammeh to see if a marabou (local healer) could aid Fatou bu ndow in curing her illness: continuous talking incoherently to no one until falling asleep in the night. As we rolled up to the compound, I realized it was my good friend, Kinneh’s in-law’s compound. I have been there twice before for ceremonies and another time we walked there and went to visit another friend. The old Pa there is a marabou and this was who we were coming to see.

After a round of greeting everyone at the compound, we went into the house of the marabou to greet him and to ask him about Fatou bu ndow. Once the problem was explained, the marabou fell silent, grabbed his prayer beads, and began to murmur some prayers. It seemed to me as if he was seeking what to do from God. A minute passed, he looked up and told Fatou bu ndow, “I will place these beads here. Each bead represents a prophet. You will grab one bead and hand it to me. If the bead represents Musa, you will have a medicine here. If it is one of the others, you will have to go elsewhere.” Fatou grabbed a bead and handed it to the marabou. He started to count, “Alpha, Musa, Ado, Alpha, Musa, Ado…” until he reached Fatou’s choice, Alpha. The marabou hesitated slightly then made it best two out of three. Fatou ended up with two Musa’s and one Alpha. The marabou sat up and said, “This, I can see, is a very big problem, but there is a solution for you here.”

At this, he opened a worn student’s notebook full of Arabic scrawling until he happened upon a picture of the Islamic symbol of star and moon. Inside each picture were tightly scrawled Arabic symbols. The marabou held the prayer beads above the picture dangling the loose ends over the middle of the star. He swung the beads until they seemed to land on one symbol. He wrote the symbol down (I think it was a certain scripture number for a Koranic text).

His apprentice was then called upon to transcribe the text onto a separate sheet of paper. While the apprentice was doing this, the marabou instructed Fatou bu ndow to go and take a bath while he said prayers for her. When she came back he said prayers over a cup of water and Fatou was instructed to drink it. By this time, the scripture was ready. The marabou poured what looked and smelled like a soapy herbal concoction into a small plastic bottle. Inside he folded and placed the scripture. Then he said, “Now take this solution and wash your face with it every day. After you do this, your problem will disappear.” Soon after, we departed.

It will be interesting to see the effects of this method of treatment. For me I was trying to prevent a childish giggle from escaping most of the time we were there. However I think in this case, there is something to be said for belief and faith of the person with the problem as well as those around the person as a method of healing. It is when people with terminal physical illness that can easily be treated by medicine or cannot be treated by medicine spend money for the treatment by marabou when they don’t have much money to begin with. Then I have a problem with the treatment. For instance, in the case of Fatou Njie, a doctor could have easily told her she was not pregnant when she fell ill, but the marabou she went to convinced her that she would have a second baby soon.

It all started a week ago. With an emergency meeting of the library committee last Thursday we made the plans to have a “puff corn” (popcorn) sale, something as yet unheard of in Kerr Pate. They know puff corn from programs, but no one sells it here. I had bought popping corn in the Kombos with 100 dalasi that Yamai gave me to help get the girls club started. Since we have not been able to get that movement off the ground, I figured lets get fund raising going in the library committee.

We borrowed the school’s kitchen and the girls and boys in the school’s library committee, Ousman Kamara, and I got the ingredients together, set up an assembly line of sorts, and got to work. We has a corn pourer, an oil pourer, a salt duster, a sugar sprinkler, and four puff corn shakers who took turns shaking the hot pots. Then, once we got enough corn pooped, we had a number of baggers and sneaky eaters.

We finished the job completely around 8pm, when Wallam, Sheich, and I had finished counting and separating the bags into 145 one dalasi bags, 48 one, fifty dalasi bags, 15 two dalasi bags, and 9 five dalasi bags, giving us a grand total of 292 dalasis with a profit of 245.50 after other costs were removed. Overall, a good idea that just happened to come together. Next, we planned to repeat the sale with local corn. This should yield more profit, and be easier to execute as you simply heat oil, and throw all the corn into a big cauldron sized pot. Then you cool it, sprinkle it, and bag it. I’m excited to make this a regular activity in the future that can earn profit for the library

Although we arrived on a Sunday, our vacation really started on Tuesday. By then we had found a quaint and safe place to stay and we had confirmed out flight for the following Sunday. On Tuesday afternoon, as we were walking back from the beach, all of a sudden this SUV with tinted windows stops in the middle of the street. Out clambers a business man who asks us some trivial questions followed by a drink invitation for that evening. We (Jennie, Philipa, and I) took his business card so that we could think about whether to accept or not. His business card said, Sylvanus Koroma Special Secretary to the State. Jennie took an important document from his car that declared his intention to resign from that position that very day. We figured based on this information that maybe he just needed a drink and couldn’t be a bad guy. We accepted the offer.

He took us to a few desolate and depressing venues (due to the lack of tourists or anyone at all in spaces that were obviously designed to hold many people). We then went to Paddy’s the famous always occupied bar/restaurant/club. The scene included Sierra Leoneans, ex-pats, engineers from Australia, mining people, and prostitutes. After this, we went to a chill place called Plan B where many of Sylvanus’ friends were situated having drinks. A few people from the State Department, a couple of business men who had lived in the UK and the US for several years, and a mine owner (25%) who had studied in the UK and had spent a lot of time abroad.

As we sat there for a while, these guys started telling us how we had to see this and that and how we should relocate to a better accommodation. We ended the night agreeing to take a ride out to the infamous #2 Beach and we were delighted to find that Dagger and Papsie (A rotund jolly kind of guy, and a skinny eyes popping out kind of guy) were taking us.

First things first, we had to stop for lunch. We stopped at an Italian restaurant on the beach with fresh and deliciously prepared fish and lobster. After sneaking a peak at the bill which was 1.5 times more than the cost of our room for one night, we headed off to #2. This traverse would have sucked, by the way, if we had decided to use public transport. This place was off road and we felt very lucky to be in a four wheel drive with two guys who knew the area.

Once we got to the beach. We were amazed. Beautiful, clear water with white clean sand. If you went into the water and turned around, you saw green cliffs and hills. One of the best aspects was that there were almost no people there.

After five hours of sun, swimming, and cold drinks to our heart’s content, we departed back to Aberdeen’s Charm’s Guesthouse to get ready for the evening. Sylvanus (Junior everyone calls him and thank God we could too) picked us up and we went for another chill evening at Plan B. This was when we found out that Junior meant Junior to the President, Ernest Koroma, of Sierra Leone. This was a pretty exciting discovery.

This night we also discovered that we would have a private car and driver to take us around Freetown and for lunch at Junior’s sister’s famous restaurant. We ended up doing some errands and going for a walking tour of the President’s newly renovated lodge. At the restaurant, we got royal treatment with a deliciously prepared Jollof rice and as many drinks as we wanted. On the way out, each of us got an order of jerk chicken with chips, salad, mayo and ketchup…Delicious.

That night, we went out to a very posh bar with John (the mine owner) and some of his prospective investors. Had I known that this was what the plan was I would have styled my hair differently. But as the evening wore on, we landed ourselves an invitation to the mines, Sierra Rutile, via John’s private car a la driver. After some deliberation we accepted the chance to go up-country in Sierra Leone.

We were pleasantly shocked to find a cottage straight out of the 70’s down to the comforters on the beds. It was like visiting the Brady Bunch home with the added comforts of a mini-fridge stocked with drinks, and a rapid water heater for coffee or tea. And although up-country, this place had 24 hour/day electricity, the only place in Sierra Leone to have this.

We had a delicious buffet dinner and breakfast and schmoozed with investors from all over the world to the buzz of Heineken, Snickers bars, and Pringles for the majority of the evening. Jennie, Mati and I happened to engross many of these investors in an American pop culture vs. British trivia contest which seemed to amuse the investors for about two good hours. This was when Dagger decided to confess the reason for their being so hospitable. He said, “All this time, you may have been questioning our motives. Maybe you figured we were trying to get somewhere with you, but no, that is not it. We truly respect what Peace Corps Volunteers do, leaving their country for two years to learn about another place and another culture. Not many people would do that and that gives you an upper edge that you will use for the rest of your lives. We wanted to show you some of the finer things that Sierra Leone has to offer with the full realization that Peace Corps is supposed to be coming back in the near future.” (This is not really exactly what he said but it is pretty accurate and he went on for quite a while). Shortly thereafter, the three of us girls went to bed in our cute little AC’d cottage.

After a tour of the rutile excavation site and the refinery, we set off for Freetown and reached there by evening time for our last night. We spent it at Buggy’s because the place we wanted to go was too chic for our style that night. But the place was fun. We played pool and hung out just us girls.

The Gambia is the only Peace Corps country with a privelege called "Mail Run"(MR) due to the small nature of the country. The MR is a volunteer initiated undertaking during which two volunteers sign up each month for a six day excursion delivering mail around the country to over 100 volunteers. Philipa and I arrived on Wednesday to find out that MR had been moved to the following week about which no one bothered to contact us. So the following Wednesday we arrived again and Thursday began the long process of organizing the mail.

No one gave us any guidance on how to organize over 100 people's mail and packages so we had to think of a plan from scratch. This resulted in a whole lot of confusion later in the MR. From 9:00 am until 6:30 pm we were busy packing up the truck. One girl had over ten packages to bring.

Friday morning was the day we headed out at 6:00 am to catch the first ferry of the day. The day went pretty smoothly despite the stress of the first volunteer on the run sending her whole house practically. The first night we stayed in Farrafenni where we met Josiah and Grover for a dinner of salami sandwiches and a beer before hitting the left over sleep sacks my family left which P and I were very greatful for.

The second day was pretty uneventful as well regarding the mail, but we did see the stone circles at Kerr Batch and one smelly house. The stench was blamed on the packages that we brought but we knew otherwise. This night was spent in Georgetown where Dan, Jim, and Blair were waiting for us to have a nice dinner of mac and cheese with tuna and pad thai with chicken which we brought along. We went for a beer afterwards where we had an encounter with a man playing a kora and then we fell fast asleep in our sleep sacks.

Day three was the day the poop really started to hit the fan. This day was a mine field of disturbant volunteers. One volunteer (due to the negative nature of these comments I will not mention the name) who told us that her dog was predjudiced was furious when we gave her the wrong person's mail. This was because she had the same last name with someone else and so the letters must have been in the wrong box because some letters for her were also in there. So apparently she was furiously texting the next house we went to, probably the most difficult volunteer in the country. And we got out and she was pissed and rudely asking for this and that while we pulled her three packages and mail out of the truck. When we got back in the car, Sam our driver said, "If that girl goes on mail run I am not going with her, she wants to make everything very difficult." We were in stitches about this girl for a good portion of the day. Apparently she has a solar pannel and an air conditioning unit in her house, not very Peace Corps like.

That night was spent in Basse where the volunteer beat her dog with a stick to try to get it to go away. The dog was very annoying and wouldn't even listen to the stick. But we were laughing at the volunteer's hesitant beating of her dog because apparently it wouldn't listen to anything else.

Day four was stressful due to the stress of day three but we relaxed the stress away for our night in Tendaba. On this day we made the executive decision to skip two people's houses because they were far off the road and didn't have any mail. Trouble errupted when these people contacted Mike the Peace Corps Director instead of one of us becuase he blew up and nearly fired our driver without taking into account that it was us who told him not to go. Little did he know that people get skipped every mail run due to the lack of a policy or any guidance as to how mail run should be done. So eventually he was calmed down with our diplomatic explanation and potential solution to the problem.

Day five was rough just because of the road. And six was a breaze. All in all I am glad I got to see the country but am happy that the stress is over.

20.02.08 The Library Opens

On the 8 February 2008, I opened the library. In the few days proceeding the opening Usman Camara (the rather intelligent and appropriate choice for library manager, a man in his 50’s born and raised in the community of Kerr Pateh) and I put down the vinyl “carpet” as Gambians refer to it, we organized the shelves, tables and benches around the room, and prepared for students to have classes and borrow books from the library.

The first week went pretty well with children obeying the rules for the most part and borrowing the books of their choices. Now I am in Kombo for mail run which will be the true test of whether the library will be a success or not. We (Usman and I) have discovered that the alphabetizing of the fiction in the library was a big mistake and that students are incapable of putting the books back on the shelves themselves when browsing through the library. They like to put the books in backwards and upside down. To counter the problem, we made a new rule that when you take a book off the shelf you must put it in a box to the side of the library, but it has been difficult to implement.

Another thing that occurred was the first violation of the library’s policies. Despite the repeated mention of the penalty for late books and the due date for the books, all of the ninth graders turned in their books late (also despite the sixth graders’ prompt return of books). Although we exacted the fine of 2 Dalasis/day for lateness, we also decided to compromise and allow children that have a class to keep their books until the next class as a result. We have yet to see the outcome of this accommodation.

The cleanliness and upkeep of the place a known problematic factor has been handled by the implementation of a list of students who will rotate and clean the place everyday around one time per term. It saddens me however, that the caretakers who are paid to do such things passively refuse to do the job and then expect my help in the library for them to check out books. The teachers and staff want to have all of the perks but they refuse to be a part of upkeep and following of rules. This is sad because they are the models for the students.

The biggest problem we have seen thus far in the library is the lack of support on the part of the teachers. Many of them do not understand what went into creating the space and thus they have a blatant disregard for the concept of the library as a whole. They do not seem to understand that they are not outside of the binds of the rules of the library. They have more lenient rules as a result of being teachers but they don’t want to return their books on time and they seem to just want access to the perks (such as tape and other expendable materials that I have worked hard to acquire and keep for the use of the library only).

The children are extremely excited and happy to be a part of the library, to have classes inside and to browse and check out books. Usman is a calming aspect of the library and really seems to be genuinely interested in preserving the library’s quality and atmosphere.

29.01.08 Crazy Lady of Kerr Pateh

In every small town, there are usually syperstitions and there are always one or two individuals who take the brunt of this superstition. In Kerr Pateh, there is a mentally challenged woman named Fatou Binta who lives in a neighboring compound. She looks rather harmless, but she wails instead of talking (speech is not possible) and also throws things or beats people (such as her husband). Thus the people of the community deem her as being possessed by an evil spirit that she has no control of.

Recently, I have begun to have a direct problem with this woman. She throws stones at my back yard. She has succeeded in ruining my fence, breaking one of my buckets, and wrecking some of my plants with her accurately cast rocks. This has been going on for months despite my family’s discussion with her family. So finally when a stone was cast in my presence, I went over there. The neighbors had to come and interpret her hand gestures and wailing grunts. One neighbor came and said to me, she says, “I am paying back from when a small girl used to throw stones from that place, it is the spirit which causes it.”

I said that it is ruining my place, it is dangerous, and it needs to stop. The neighbors and a teacher explained that to her and she has agreed to stop. I believe she is taking out aggression for her problems out on others.

A week later, I was present during another casting. I decided to collect all of the rocks she has thrown in the last month (a large Target bag full) and bring them over to the police. The police went over and threatened her to small avail. Two weeks later the incident happened again. The newly arrived police went over and threatened her again. Now, I have decided, if it doesn’t stop, the way to stop it might be to have her come over to my house and pick up all of the stones and carry them somewhere. If she refuses, I will have it be police escorted. Any ideas from over there?

29.01.08 Fight!

Scene: A tall, drunk, lanky guy in a bright pink kaftan with a drum playing in an Islamic Studies class whilst the teacher stands aside. Enter headmaster:

Headmaster: Ustas, did you organize this program for your class?

Ustas: No.

H: What is this guy doing here then?

U: He came in and told me to stand aside for his presentation.

H: (catches on to the drunkenness of the man firmly tells him to leave).

Musician: Refuses

H: Forcefully removes musician’s bike and tells him again to get out

M: Begins to get defensive and starts spewing insults

H: Insults back

M: Insults the headmaster’s mother

H: Throws and lands several punches outside in the courtyard of the school

This was followed by a senior teacher breaking up the fight and calmly escorting the musician to the perimeter of the school where the musician proceeded to make loquacious conversation with himself.

In addition to this, Last lumoo there was a wild Mauritanian goat that got loose from its frantic Mauritanian owner in a kaftan on the school grounds. It entered classrooms and was chased by the owner and several children until it was finally caught.

These are a couple of the reasons why we need a fence around the school. A physical borderline is the only way to keep the riffraff out. Despite the request for funding made last February and the December approval of the funding, we are still awaiting the check for cement that will be used to build the wall. Nothing is easy when trying to secure funding and get things done in The Gambia.

This is my brother’s account of my family’s trip to West and South Africa. I thought it would be best for you to see the trip through the eyes of a visitor. Almost nothing has been altered in his account:

12-28-2007

Poppa, Nancy, Susan and I arrive in Dakar, Senegal at 6 am on around 3 hours of sleep. After some confusion about our bag situation, Susan’s French comes in handy when she finds a bumster man to help us. When we arrived at the departure area, we were told that we couldn’t check into our flight for another 2 hours. So the four of us pooled together the only 4 seats in sight and formed a makeshift waiting area. The four of us sat alone in the Dakar airport watching the sunrise.

After a long stay at the Dakar airport we were finally ready to board the small propeller plane to Banjul, The Gambia. This came after I almost lost my ticket in the airport and Sue almost tipped a man $30 until he notified her. The aerial view of Dakar was great and we could certainly tell the difference between the larger city of Dakar and the much smaller city of Banjul.

We arrived at around noon and were expecting Meagan to meet us at the airport. A very nice woman who had done Peace Corps in the 80’s and coincidentally married a Gambian man in San Francisco let us borrow her phone to call Meagan. We found out there was a communication error and she thought we got in at 4 pm. So we took 2 taxis. On our way to the Kairaba Beach Hotel, we passed through the streets of Banjul which reminded me much of areas of Jamaica. There was much construction left unfinished, many rundown buildings, many advertisements for Africell and many people playing outside.

When we arrived at the hotel, it was obviously the nicest establishment we had seen in Banjul surrounded by a multitude of restaurants and nightclubs. We got settled in our rooms and lay down on beds for the first time in many hours. It felt so good because most of us got only 2 – 3 hours sleep and my dad none at all. A sign at the hotel on the way to our rooms said “Don’t feed the monkeys”.

We walked like zombies through the hotel area because we were so tired. Meagan met us and it was a joyous reunion. She was so happy to see us. She led us to her favorite pizza restaurant called Paradisio where we got to try Julbrew – from Gambia’s very own brewery and Gambia’s finest pizza offerings. So far the accommodations appear very similar to those in the US.

At night, Meagan’s friends met us for drinks and dinner after taking a dip in the ocean. It felt so nice and refreshing. So we sat at the hotel lounge area drinking exotic drinks waiting to eat at a fine Thai restaurant with Meagan’s three friends from the Peace Corps. Dinner was great and we ordered a lot of food knowing that it would be our nicest dinner in a while.

12-29-2007

We had a good night sleep including Sue who got a remarkable 8 ½ hours sleep. Meagan wanted to get an early start to walk to Jenny’s but it was my Dad who was being a slowpoke in the morning. This was a first for him! After a quick bite of our hotel’s breakfast buffet we were off on our walk along the beach to Jennie’s. The walk was about 3 miles or so along the beautiful Banjul coastline. Along the way we were harassed by more than a dozen “bumsters” who were looking for any way to make a few Dalasis including horse rides and jewelry selling but most notably male prostitutes. Nancy was a hot target even though she was with my pops. Along the way we had to cross a treacherous stream and we stopped at a small market where Meagan bargained for a few wood carved key chains and small sculptures.

When we arrived at Jennie’s, she had made coffee and banana bread for us. It was very nice. We had imagined Jennie’s hut to be maybe similar to Meagan’s but we had no idea. Running water and electricity made Jennie’s hut seem like the Ritz compared to Meagan’s. Jennie’s host family made us a large portion of rice with fish stew on top. This was the first of many offerings that we would receive upon entering a stranger’s household.

We had a quick lunch at Meagan’s favorite sandwich/crepe restaurant and met Bai who was not properly introduced to us, but later we would learn that he was Meagan’s boyfriend. Bai had arranged for a driver to take us around Banjul for the day and take us to the Serakunda market which was our big activity for the day.

Serakunda market was a bustling hub of cultural activity. You could find everything from live chickens to dried fish to giant cookware to traditional Gambian garb to Attaya and everything in between. Meagan assured us that you could find very nice things at Serakunda if you spent some time although you wouldn’t know it from the looks of it. The most memorable portion of our time at Serakunda was our walk through the meat and produce section. The smell was unforgettable and not a pleasant one. I describe it as a mixture of animal waste, hot garbage, rotting produce and a lot of hot, sweaty people all rolled up in a tight package. Everything, including the people, had flies crawling over it and nobody seemed to pay attention. What an experience! Sue, Nancy and I bought some traditional clothing to wear to the various programs that Meagan had planned for us. Susan’s was similar to a prison uniform, mine was purple with vibrant green blotches and Nancy’s was a nice purple design. It was difficult for Meagan to get a good deal because the sellers saw a family of “Tubobs” as an opportunity to charge extra high prices. The drive of everyone, including children as young as 4 or 5, to earn income was remarkable.

We took a dip in the ocean when we got back to the hotel and watched the sunset all together. After showers in our rooms we headed out for dinner. It was an Asian inspired restaurant called Tao that was quite good. Meagan and I only stayed for appetizers as we had to save room for meat pies that Jenny had made for us. We caught a 5 by 5 taxi which was 5 Dalasis for each of us. Meagan told the driver to take us to the traffic light which wouldn’t be confusing because it was the only one in town. We ate meat pies at Jennie’s and had a few drinks before we left with a few of Meagan’s other Peace Corps buddies. After another 5 by 5 taxi, we were at Westfield Youth Monument, a bar where there were drinks and dancing. I found it very strange that heterosexual men were dancing very close to each other and heterosexual women kept to themselves as well, but Meagan said that was the way things went in Gambia.

12-30 07

Meagan and I got minimal sleep the previous night as we arrived back at the hotel around 4:45 am. We had to wake at 8:15 am. Bai met us in the morning with the driver he had arranged. We grabbed a quick breakfast at the hotel, and then we were off to the ferry which was in Banjul. This would be the last familiar meal we would have for the next 4 days, but I don’t think any of us were truly prepared for this adventure. As we approached the market, we were met by the familiar smell that stung out nostrils in an oh so pleasant way. We were lucky to enter the ferry boarding even just as a ferry was leaving because they closed the gate behind us, separating us from the hoards of people and animals waiting to board the next ferry. So we would be first to enter the next ferry. We carried al lot of luggage because we came bearing gifts for the people in Kerr Pateh, Meagan’s village. Even though we had a lot of luggage, we were by no means carrying the largest load. Many women and men balanced giant baskets on their heads as they walked with bags in each hand. Some locals took this ferry multiple times per day.

The ferry was peaceful and lasted about 40 minutes from bank to bank. Meagan warned us that the port where we docked would be extremely hectic and energetic.

We would have to keep our bags in front of us because many children would spot us as “tubobs” and attempt to carry our bags for a fee. We had the option of taking a “gelly” with many other people for a cheap price, or a taxi by ourselves for a more expensive price. We decided that we would take the gelly for the true Gambian experience. People use the expression “packed like a sardine can” loosely but in this gelly we experienced the true meaning of the phrase. At one point, there were 28 people packed in this small van that was speeding down this empty road with reckless abandon. There were two young boys called “apparantes” hanging outside of the van on the back of it while we were going as fast as 70 mph. We all decided that these boys would surly die if they fell off the back at full speed. Occasionally we would make a stop at villages along the way for people to get off. Whenever we would reach a security checkpoint, the apparantes would have to calmly jump off the back and pretend that they were walking along because they weren’t legally allowed on back. The van would start going again without the apparantes and they would have to run full speed to catch up to the van and latch on. While all of this was going on, the door to the back of the van would flail open exposing Meagan to near death because she was sitting right by the back of the van. Every time this would happen, we would all reach out our arms to her rescue. She would just calmly assure us that she was used to the gelly. Meagan joked with us that this gelly system met the Gambia’s toughest safety standards.

The gelly to Kerr Pateh took around two hours. This trip took us deeper and deeper into third world Africa. Kerr Pateh was the final stop on the gelly and many people got off. We got our bags off the top of the gelly and headed to Meagan’s hut where we were warmly greeted by Meagan’s host family. Meagan’s hut was about 10 feet by 10 feet and when we dropped our bags off we all wondered what the sleeping arrangements would be. Meagan was known in her compound as Awa Njai and her host family had prepared us a lunch of fish and pumpkin, cabbage and onions on top of rice. We came into Meagan’s village with expectations that we would be using our hands to eat and that we would only use our right hands because the left hand was impolite, but to our delight, we were given spoons to eat with.

In back of Meg’s hut we saw her newly repaired fence which surrounded her garden and shower/latrine area. The garden was suffering because it was the dry season. We were told to shake the cover of the latrine so the critters inside would know not to crawl out when we were doing our business. My first thought when I saw this was that I hoped I wouldn’t have to use the bathroom while at Kerr Pateh.

After lunch we got our first taste of the daily life in upcountry Gambia. My dad turned to me and said “I don’t understand what people do here all day.” Kerr Pateh was a very peaceful, laid back atmosphere that encouraged lethargic activity and discouraged productivity. This is not to say that people did not work hard, because men did field work and women did an extraordinary amount of work as many of them carried huge water jugs on their heads while a baby was strapped on their backs. But when it was time to relax or hang out in Kerr Pateh, time was spent sitting on chairs talking to people. They don’t have the luxury of television or easily accessible internet.

When it was time for us to give Meagan’s family the gifts we had brought for them, we found out that Fatou Njai had made us gifts as well. Sol and Awa, Fatou and the the three kids, Sambou, Babukar and Wollum. All of them were very shy about receiving gifts and didn’t want to open them in front of us. They did not outwardly express their excitement with the gifts, but days later we would see their gratitude from continued appreciation. Fatou had made for us hand sewn placemats with green letters sewn saying I love Americans. We all had a good laugh and thanked them deeply.

The rest of the day was spent visiting important families in the village. First we all went to the Alcala’s (Mayor’s) compound. When you first enter a compound, all the kids came running out to greet you. We all shook the mayor’s hand and had a short chat. We couldn’t help wondering what this guy did all day. It seemed as though he sat in his hut while people came to visit him periodically throughout the day. Meagan confirmed that indeed that is what he did all day. Next, we visited another family that Meagan had become fond of. Meagan’s favorite kid Mamut, came out and he was indeed very cute. We had presents for this family as well. Later, we visited the nicest house in the village, which was the only one with running water and electricity. They had a TV and they turned it on for us, sitting inside their living room. I thought - hey inside this room it is not so different from the States. Somehow, this house’s nice amenities seemed out of place in Kerr Pateh, where every kid played outside with each other instead of sitting inside watching TV.

Around 5:00 we went by the schoolyard where Meagan teaches. There was a large football field made completely of sand and I hoped to get involved in a game. Luckily, a group of late teens/early 20 year olds were starting up a game. I asked if I could play and they put me on one of the teams. They were very skeptical that a white boy would be able to play with them but nevertheless, the game began and they let me handle the ball. Most of them played with sandals or no shoes at all, but a select few had shoes on. They wore tattered sun-bleached jerseys of their favorite premier league players. A crowd of all the children who were too young to play in the big game had assembled on the sideline and it seemed that many of them were wondering if this Tubob could play. They were all used to playing in the sand, but I had a difficult adjustment as I was used to the luxury of a grass field. Every time I would skid or slip in the sand a roar of howling laughter would come from the sidelines and I would hear shouts of Tubob.

I came back to Meagan’s compound covered in dirt from the feet up. Looking around I wondered how her mattress appeared so clean. Meagan’s host family had brewed attaya which was very nice for afternoon lounging. This highly caffeinated tea-like beverage was served in a shot glass after a long brewing process. I had a glass and it packed a powerful punch. It was time to clean myself. Meagan’s shower was one of the only times I had bathed myself without running water. There was a large bucket filled with water and a small cup to scoop out small portions of water. I lathered up some soap all over and began the long process of washing off the soap. This process may have taken longer than my usual shower, but I got remarkably clean and was much less wasteful in my use of water. The sun was going down, and it wasn’t until then that I realized how difficult simple tasks would be without electricity. We all wore our spelunking flashlights on our heads to get around. It was funny that Sue had bought these for us at FAO Schwartz, who would have thought.

Dinner was served in the darkness and we all had to use our flashlights to eat because we were cautious of eating mystery surprises in our food bowl. It was a chicken that we had brought from Banjul. The family served it on top of fried rice with onions sweet potato, pumpkin and cabbage. It was a comforting sight seeing 4 women working together busily around the fire to prepare this large meal. There is a real sense of community in Kerr Pateh. Once the cooking is finished, the food is divided into portions in accordance with a hierarchy. The best pieces of meat are given to the highest standing members, and so on down the line. After dinner we witnessed the frustrations of Gambian negotiations. Meagan had set up an African drumming program weeks in advance in preparation of our arrival. A few days before our arrival, a Maribou (Islamic religious leader) from Senegal had passed away. He was a very important man in the Muslim community and since Kerr Pateh was an Islamic Village, his death was heavily mourned. Now, jumping three days ahead to our first day in Kerr Pateh, when the drummers began making preparations for their performance, they began practicing on their drums. The noise was heard throughout the village and dozens of children had already gathered in excitement. The elders of the village however, did not share their excitement as they felt that a drumming celebration would be disrespectful in the mourning of the Maribou’s death. The elders got together and voiced their concerns to the Alcala (Mayor) who agreed with them. He decided that the program would have to be postponed to a later date. This created many problems and much confusion mainly surrounding the compensation the drummers would receive for traveling to the village.

Although they did not end up playing, the drummers wanted a full pay of 2,000 Dalasis for their efforts in making the journey to Kerr Pateh. Meagan felt that this was ridiculous seeing as how they were enjoying a delicious free meal, and they didn’t even play a note. The negotiations started and we could tell that Meagan had become a seasoned vet at this skill. After much argument, it was agreed that Meagan would pay 400 Dalasis for traveling expenses and everyone was pleased. The final obstacle of the night was to decide sleeping arrangements. The Lombaers are tall people, and this did not help the situation. We had to fit 5 grown people in Meg’s small hut. Dad and Nancy were given the bed, which was covered by a bug net. Sue was sleeping in a cot that was raised a foot and a half off the ground. She tried not to show it but she was very relieved to have that foot and a half separation from the ground. Meg and I shared the mat on the floor which was fine with me because I was tired enough to sleep anywhere. Dad and Nancy expressed concerns about the temperature in the hut, but Meagan assured us that come 5 am we would be in need of sweatshirts. We agreed that we would sleep as late as we wanted, and the last thought in all of our minds before we slept was “thank God for our sleepsacks”. Sure enough when the 5 am call for prayer woke us up I was shivering and I quickly put my fleece on and went back to bed.

12-31-07

We woke around 9:30 and Meagan’s host family was making fun of her for our laziness. They all woke before 8 am. Meagan and Sue went to the nearby biddick (corner store) to pick up breakfast, which was bread and hard boiled eggs. The bread was a French baguette that had specks of dirt in the opening on top from the somehow dirty conditions of the bakery. We were nearly out of bottled water so we gradually had to make the shift to Meagan’s bleach treated water, which she claimed was high quality.

It was another beautiful day: perfectly sunny with a gentle breeze and no humidity. We left Meg’s compound saying “jamarek” which meant peace only and headed to Kinnay’s compound. Kinnay was Megan’s very smart, beautiful friend who helped Meagan out with many things. She wanted to make us lunch so she was cooking Meg’s favorite: peanut sauce with vegetables and fruit over rice. We next headed to a family that felt a special connection to Meagan. This connection was so strong that they named their child after her. Meg brought Awa Njai jr. a pink decorative band to put around the baby’s head. It was very cute. We also brought a Frisbee for their oldest son. They brewed Attaya for us and offered us food. Everyone in Kerr Pateh was so welcoming and hospitable. We all got together for pictures when we were about to leave. When Gambians posed for pictures, they took it very seriously and adjusted their clothes and everything. You wouldn’t believe the delight on their faces when we showed them the pictures on the camera. I think it was one of the only times they had seen a picture of themselves. Next Meg took us to the library which she had started at the school. It was very impressive but not quite finished yet. Meagan had the books organized by fiction and nonfiction because alphabetical organization didn’t seem to work with the Gambians. The library seemed like an oasis in the midst of all these huts.

Kinnay brought us lunch and ate with us. The peanut sauce dish was quite good. The rest of the afternoon was spent lazing around until sundown. The Lombaers along with Meg’s whole host family boarded a gelly heading west to a sort of hotel in the village called Njawara. The gelly was a whole different experience at night. Although this gelly was much more comfortably spaced inside, we now had to deal with added anxiety of not being able to see more than 25 feet ahead of us. With no electricity, the only light available was the one created by the van. It was a 40 minute trip to the camp.

When we arrived at the camp we were told some bad news. Although Meg had booked two VIP huts months in advance and confirmed the reservations two days before, they had given away one of the VIP huts to family friends of the owner just that morning. We witnessed another long Gambian negotiation. Finally it was agreed that the inhabitants of the second VIP hut would be asked to move. A man opened the door to Dad and Nancy’s hut. There was silence. I think the old folks were prepared for only one night of roughing it in Meg’s hut and that would be it. But this hut was just more of the same except that they were dirtier and without the character of the huts in Kerr Pateh. My dad said that VIP hut was an oxymoron. Sue and I were shown to our VIP hut as well. It was the first time I had noticed a falter in her extremely optimistic attitude. We both agreed that we would rather be in Kerr Pateh.

Nevertheless, dinner was ready and I thought it was a particularly good one. Ram meat with potatoes and vegetables in a brown gravy with plenty of bread. My father had drastically changed his diet since coming to Africa and I think he was surviving off of life savers. I guess the candies lived up to their name.

We ate at a long table with Meg’s host family. We were beginning to all get along very well. After dinner, Meagan had scheduled a program to be performed at the camp.

After dinner, we washed off our hands and headed over to the area where the program was being performed. It was a ridged metal roof held up by wooden poles all over. This enclosed set up made for a very loud drum performance because the noise was trapped by the roof. My father said the noise was deafening. I sort of agreed, but recognized that beneath the loud noise, these drummers were very skilled and the beats were very complex. None of us expected to see the uniquely West African highly energetic almost crazy dancing that we saw. In this particular program, women of all ages from 4 to 40, jumped in the middle and performed a dance to the upbeat rhythm. I had never seen such a crazy movement of the feet. The upper body remained fairly still. The Gambians were very encouraging of all of us dancing and every now and then one of them would grab an arm and put us in the middle. When the last song came every body said that our whole family had to dance. To all of our surprise, my father, who was the least likely member of the family to do it sprawled up and began flailing about in a crazy manner. This was the highlight of the show for most of the Gambians as this dance was met by thunderous laughter.

Sue and I headed to our hut for some rest. Neither of us did our nightly routine because we weren’t quite used to the bathroom conditions. We made sure the windows were closed, the bug net was covering our bed and we were wrapped like mummies in our sleepsacks. It may have been boiling hot but I think we were safe from the critters.

1-1-08

At 5 am we woke to the familiar sound of the Islamic call to worship. First you hear the call and then you have about 5 minutes to get ready for prayer. The singing in Arabic lasts for about 15 minutes in total and they pray 5 times a day. We slept for a while after and woke at around 8:30 to a breakfast of French bread, hard boiled eggs and salad. The agricultural camp had a garden so it was easy to have salad. The camp was able to locate a can of Nescafe so we were able to have coffee for the first time in 4 days.

Nancy had to begin the henna process on her feet because it would take all day. Kinnay did the design of the tape on her feet which took about an hour and a half. The design was beautiful and very intricate and after it was finished, the henna seed was mixed with water and spread evenly over the bottoms of Nancy’s feet. Plastic bags were then wrapped around the feet for proper drying. While this was taking place, Susan, Dad, Wollum and I went to the agricultural center of the village with the leader of our camp. The leader of the camp was a very spiritual man and earlier in the morning after breakfast he had us do a sort of fortune telling exercise. We all picked random cards from a deck that he was holding and more often than not, he argued, the statement on the card would match our personality. The Gambians really believe in fate, and although I did not, I was happy to play this game. As it turned out, most of the cards matched remarkably well with the person who picked them. In fact, the only people whose statements did not ring true were my Dad’s and mine.

On the way to the cultural center, Wollum informed me that he had plans to become a doctor. Hearing his come from a boy who had been out of contact with his real parents for some time and who had never set foot out of the Gambia was very inspiring. He seemed very smart and self motivated and I told him that the sky’s the limit – he could be whatever he wanted to be. The cultural center was made up of a main pavilion and a few mushroom topped huts where the locals could learn about plant life. When we stepped in theses mushroom topped huts, they were about 10 degrees cooler than the outside air. Something about the physical design of these huts kept hot air outside. Afterwards, we walked by the bank of the river Gambia which was about 200 feet wide.

We gave the man running the cultural center a donation and then we walked back to the camp for lunch. On the way back, we stopped at a biddick and got 24 bottles of cold soda. I had an orange Fanta and it was so refreshing. I hadn’t had anything that sweet since we moved upcountry because most of the foods we ate were either salty, spicy or sour flavors. Nancy had plastic bags over her feet when we got back, which meant that she still had a bit more time for the henna. She had been fighting off a cold (that she passed on to my Dad) so it was nice for her to have a day of relaxation.

After lunch, we lazed around the camp a bit, and sat in a circle outside around Nancy. The temperature was very pleasant with a breeze in the shade and Meagan was brewing attaya. Soon, my Dad, Susan, Wollum and I would head to another camp for a drum lesson with the leader of the previous night’s performance. I was very excited. On the way, Wollum told me more about how his days were in Kerr Pateh and all the animals he knew. When we got to the drummers’ compound, a few of the guys were literally making the drums right in from of us. We watched them carve sticks into utensils that they used to pull leather straps through holes along the drum. The drums were carved out of mahogany trees. Goat skin was stretched across the top to make the surface for beating. They tied the leather straps in a woven pattern tightly around the goatskin and then cut off the excess skin with a knife. The finished products were beautiful.

Susan said Wollum could have a lesson as well, so they gave us both drums and we took them into this room to play. They carved sticks into drumsticks and gave us both one. The instructors name was Usenu and he was very skilled. He rolled a giant Bob Marly splaff and was ready to begin the lesson. He gave us a simple pattern to begin with and I got it down pretty quickly. To my surprise, Wollum was having a lot of trouble getting this simple rhythm down. I was under the impression that all Africans had rhythm. I guess that was just a stereotype. After a while, Wollum was forced to drop out of the lesson because he couldn’t keep up. Usenu and I continued the lesson. I learned three patterns in all. Once I would learn each basic rhythm, he would have me continue while he played something more complex on top. It was a lot of fun. Many of the children from the village gathered around to watch this lesson. When the lesson was almost over, I had a few of the drummers do a simple beat that I rapped over. I’m pretty that none of the villagers knew what I was saying, but nevertheless they gathered around with surprised expressions.

We said goodbye to the drummers and arranged another lesson for the next day in Kerr Pateh because they would be performing another program there for Meg’s compound. When we got back to the camp the sun was nearly setting and Nancy was still not finished with her henna. The tape was just being unveiled as we arrived showing the intricate pattern Kinnay had concocted. Most of the henna had been rubbed off of her feet but we still couldn’t see the true shape of the henna. It wasn’t until oil was rubbed on her feet that the vibrant definition came out. It was very nice. As the sun went down, I sat out in a chair under a tree with Wollum by my side. I was writing in my journal as Wollum read along. He knew quite a bit of English and he only had to ask what a few words meant.

It was dark and dinner was ready. It was ram stew with an abundance of delicious potatoes and plenty of bread. I was beginning to get used to the food. Our family and Meg’s host family ate as one big family and we were all getting along, laughing, and having a good time. Everyone enjoyed a soda with their meal and I think people were pretty happy about that. After dinner, people were tired and ready to curl up in their huts. Meagan informed me that she had some friends nearby who she wanted me to meet. I was a little nervous to leave the camp grounds at night but I agreed to the plan. When I told Susan the idea she was very nervous. She didn’t want to be in the VIP hut alone. I assured her that I would be back within the hour and she said she would get some reading done.

Meg’s friends were all our age and they met us at the camp ground for a walk over to her other friends place. We waited at this other friend’s place for a while not sure that he would show up. When he finally arrived he had a no worry attitude that cheered everyone up. He had long rasta dreads and spoke with a calm voice. We got into a discussion about fate and he tried to convince me that there is a plan for everything. We all talked for a while under the brilliant stars. With no pollution from cars or factories the skies are incredibly clear. Sue was deep into her book when I came back to the room. This was a clear sign that she was becoming accustomed to her surroundings in the VIP hut. I think we were both getting used to Gambian life. There were a number of things we both agreed that we would miss about Gambia and Kerr Pateh. This is not to say that we were so used to rural Gambian life that we slept without the bugnet, for we tightened it snugly over all four corners of the bed before saying goodnight. Sue hadn’t showered for four days now but remarkably I couldn’t smell her from my side of the bed.

1-2-08

Today after breakfast, we were to head to the spot in Njawara where we could catch the ferry back to Kerr Pateh. It was another brilliantly sunny day, about 90 degrees but not unpleasantly hot because there was about 0 % humidity. We waited with our bags at the spot in town where Meg knew we could catch the gelly. A number of locals were also waiting and I wondered how we were all going to fit. We waited about 40 minutes for the gelly to arrive. While we waited, we watched a dozen kids of all different ages playing together. Referring to the wild imaginations and playful nature of the kids, Sue commented that Gambian kids were not all that different from US kids at those ages. When the gelly finally arrived, it was already packed with people from another stop. In addition, the locals had set up some kind of system where people who were getting off the gelly were saving places for people from Njawara. It was hopeless for us to try to get on. Meg resorted to calling the car for hire at the camp to come pick us up. This was a more expensive option but it would have been bad to wait much longer. We had to make it to Lumo!

Lumo is a weekly market that comes to Kerr Pateh every Wednesday. You could buy anything from jewelry to clothing to produce and meat. It had very similar items to Serekunda Market in Banjul but was smaller in size. When we arrived in Kerr Pateh, we got settled back in Meg’s hut and had a quick lunch at the compound. I was to have another lesson with Usenu, so I headed over to a nearby spot where he and his fellow drummers were relaxing. They remembered me from the previous day’s rap performance and said they really enjoyed it. Usenu and I headed back to Meg’s compound where the lesson would take place.

We did a quick review of the patterns I had learned the previous day. To my surprise I remembered most of them. As soon as we put the first stick to the drum, there was already a gathering of a dozen kids with dozens more soon to come. We went through a few new patterns and had a really fun time. When there was a great gathering surrounding us, Usenu led the kids into their ABC’s song (which was a different rhythm than in the US). We played drums while the kids sang a number of times. It was a magical moment where you could forget that most of these kids would never make it out of Kerr Pateh to do bigger things. When the lesson was over, Usenu and I headed to the lumo where I was looking for some bracelets and a Gambian football jersey.

It was amazing to see how the laid back, relaxed village of Kerr Pateh transformed into a bustling center of activity for Lumo. Walking by each tiny stall, people got very excited to see a white man. We couldn’t find a Gambian football jersey but I found something equally exciting: a fishnet vest like the bumsters wore with the colors of the Gambian flag on it. I immediately switched the new top for the one I was wearing. Although I must have looked incredibly ridiculous, I fit in much better once I was wearing the Gambian flag. I also bought a tape of Usenu’s drum performance and some jewelry presents and Usenu bought a jacket with some drumming money. I was sure I got ripped off, but I didn’t mind giving a little extra money to the Gambians, who needed the Dalasis much more that I did.

When I came back to the compound everyone was already sitting in chairs and having a relaxed afternoon in the shade. Meg was out gathering special ingredients for the huge dinner we would be having that night. Beef stew with plenty of potatoes. In addition, Meg was able to find high quality bread that had no specks of dirt in it. The drummers were getting ready to play their first half of their performance. Meagan had settled that the drummers would play for a bit before dinner and then later at night. Once again, as soon as the sound from the drums began, kids started gathering. Within half an hour masses had filled the 30 benches we had set up. At one point my dad counted 300 people. But we all noticed that the 300 people were made up of all women and children.

When we asked, nobody was able to give us a very good answer for why the men stayed inside. It would remain a mystery.

The drummers finished playing a tad before sundown, about an hour and a half before dinner was ready. That hour and a half was spent almost completely in argument and negotiating between my sister and the drummers. They claimed that they were only scheduled for the first half and that they had to leave at night to perform another program. Meagan claimed that this was all agreed way in advance and that he was trying to get extra money now that a family of tubobs was in town. Usenu and the rest of the drummers were even trying to ask for extra money for traveling expenses which Meagan thought was unfair because he had never asked for that before. Meagan’s host family was getting involved, and it looked like progress was being made. Finally Fatou made a breakthrough suggestion. Since the drummers needed transport to Njawara (which was on the way), and we were going there in the morning, they could just come along with us. This was a happy medium for both sides. Fatou’s suggestion seemed to work. Although they decided not to join us the next morning because we were leaving so early, they did agree to play the second half of the program after dinner. Perhaps Meg was right and they were looking to make a few extra Dalasis.

Dinner was fantastic and was the most American meal we had eaten, the Gambian version of pot roast. Still, my dad hardly touched it and I was sure that by this point in the trip he had lost a few pounds. In fact a few of the family members had developed a theory that he had begun going on a diet, which would be the first one for him in his whole life. Kinnay joined us for dinner and we all watched in awe as she formed the meat and potatoes into perfect balls with her hand and then popped them into her mouth. She had it down to a science.

After dinner we all felt a wave of tiredness with early wake-up time approaching. Nevertheless, Meg sort of had to play host at the program. After all that fuss and negotiating, none of us even saw the nighttime program except for Meagan. But the program was really for the village after all. Remarkably, I fell asleep 3 minutes into the program with the loud banging and commotion outside. Everyone else followed suit and we were all asleep before the program was over. Meg said we missed the best performance of the trip. At night, many of the shy Kerr Patehans come out of their shells and go crazy. Even the men dance at night. After the program was over, Meg crashed onto the pad on the floor. She had to move me over in the middle of the night because the pad was only about 3 feet wide and I was apparently taking too much space. This was the last night we would spend in upcountry Gambia because the next day we left for Dakar. What an amazing once in a lifetime experience.

1-3-08

The gelly to the ferry lasted about 2 hours and we left Meagan’s at 5 am. Wollum had told me to wake him at 4:30 when we woke up because he had a surprise for me. We had become quite close over the last few days. He was very tired when we woke him up, but he managed to piece together a song for me. It was a traditional Gambian farewell song that was a little sad. It went something like “ Goodbye Trevor, I’ll miss you Trevor, we hope you come back soon” I gave him a hug and told him we’d keep in touch. I had a plan that we would keep a correspondence even after Meg left and if he still wanted to go to doctor’s school when the time came, we would pay.

To my surprise all the members of Meg’s host family woke up to see us off. The Gambians were such great hosts all throughout the trip. We all said goodbye and exchanged hugs. When we got to the ferry, we entered into a jumble of people that was the line to buy tickets. It was the least organized line I had ever been in. Hundreds of people were packed into a narrow passage way and it seemed that nobody was moving. If you wanted to get somewhere you had to bulldoze a few people. I held my backpack in front of me with my hands covering the zippers to discourage pick-pocketing. Meg went to buy tickets while the rest of us made our way to the ferry waiting area. When we went through the checkpoint, they didn’t even check tickets anyway. It was a very flawed system. Meg met us in the ferry waiting area but someone had swiped her wallet! Luckily there were only a few Dalasis in it and nothing else of real value. She told us that there was more commotion than usual because the ferry company had changed the ticket price from 5 Dalasis to 7 Dalasis overnight without warning.

Bai met us on the Banjul side with a car. We were headed to Jennie’s to pick up our bags, but first we stopped at Meg’s favorite pastry shop to pick something up for all of us to share. Meg’s other friends were at Jennie’s when we arrived. Jennie made us real coffee and it was like a little sip of heaven. We had a nice chat for a while and then we were off to the airport. Bai and the driver bid us farewell and Bai walked us in to the airport where he and Meagan said their goodbyes.

Dakar was a real city with many high rise buildings and cars and paved roads. The amount of construction on the way from the airport to the hotel was remarkable. We finally arrived at the hotel after 40 minutes of traffic from road construction. The hotel was a sight for sore eyes. It would be so nice to sleep in a nice clean bed and take a real shower. I think we appreciated this hotel more than any other guest after our time in the Gambia. Susan would finally be able to shower after 5 days of avoiding the outdoor showers in Gambia. While all of us were getting clean in our rooms, my Dad was frantically running around trying to deal with his bag, which had had a deet explosion. With our flight to Joburg early in the morning, he was very worried about getting his bag taken care of. It was hard to convince him to come to dinner.

When we got to dinner, everyone sort of calmed down. Sue had gone on a mission to find these painted plates by herself in this marketplace. We all couldn’t believe she had found them, but she has a way with people. When Sue got back, she sort of calmed down my Dad and we had a good time at dinner. It was a top notch seafood restaurant out on the water in the center of Dakar a few blocks away from our hotel. We all ate well; it was our first real meal in a long time. My dad ordered a steak. We agreed that we this was the first part of the trip that we could have possibly had Bill with us.

Because Dakar had the reputation of being a not so safe city, we took a 3 block cab ride home, which I thought was ridiculous. When we got back, Meg and I had no trouble falling asleep in our comfortable bed with nice clean sheets.

1-4-08

Drama in the airport! We did not plan enough time to check in to our flight in the morning. The cab pulled up to the hotel and it was a rickety looking cab. The doors didn’t work properly and the trunk didn’t really shut but it was early in the morning and we got in without hesitation. So the cab driver knows that we are in a hurry to get to a flight on time yet he still pulls up to get a cup of joe. After searching around, he realizes that he doesn’t have any money and he wants us to pay for it. We had large bills so it wouldn’t work - he drove off. On top of all of this, the lights did not work on the front of the cab. It was pitch dark outside and there were no streetlights so this was bad. So we had to drive the speed of a golf cart the whole way. When we finally got to the airport, the driver asked for more money than we agreed on. But we made it to the airport alright – or so we thought.

Dad and Nancy, who had taken another cab, were waiting for us in the front of the airport. We all hurried to the Delta check in area, but there was some confusion. We didn’t know where to go because there were no signs for our flight. After asking around someone finally told us that check in for our flight had ended. Although the plane wouldn’t leave for another 40 minutes, we had missed the cutoff time of 1 hour prior to departure. There would be no exceptions made.

We had to act quickly to try to get on the only other flight of the day or else we would waste a day of travel. It was a South African Airways flight that left 30 minutes later than the Delta flight. It just happened to be the flight Bill was on. Also it helped us that it was delayed about 40 minutes. We all waited about 30 nail biting minutes while Susan worked her magic with the SAA people. Finally we were able to get the tickets. Great success. We made it through security and then we got a chance to catch our breaths. Sue had to buy new tickets with SAA and Delta would refund the other tickets. So we actually ended up saving money but were no longer in business class. At least we were on the plane. Bill was shocked when he saw us.

The rest of this journal I will keep very brief.

We arrive in Joburg and are taken to the Saxon Hotel in Sandton, a very nice suburb. This hotel was one of the nicest we had ever seen. It was Nelson Mandela’s and Oprah’s favorite place to stay. Our room had giant marble bedposts and it was one of the most comfortable night’s sleep I had ever had, really. We ate in the hotel that night and it was a world class meal. It would be my favorite meal of the trip. Later that night, Meg and I worked out and took a dip in the pool. When we got back to the room, Meg took a shower and I took a bath with real cinnamon and lavender.

1-5-08

We fly from Joburg to Londolozi game reserve not knowing what to expect. The plane landed in the middle of nowhere and we were met by our guide, Brent, who would show us animals all week. The Granite Suites were spectacular. We had our own little houses; each had a pool and a 20 foot high shower that came down from the ceiling. Lunch was amazing with three different choices of salads and then main course and desert. It became apparent early that we would have to limit our eating.

Brent took us on our first safari later that day. We saw rhinos and a horny elephant. Then for about 2 hours we watched this pack of lions, waiting for them to move. There were three adult females and nine cubs. Lions are the only social cat and we saw them playing around with each other. When they finally moved, Brent had positioned us perfectly so that the lions brushed right past our vehicle within arms reach.

1-6-08

We woke at 5:00 am to get on the road by 5:30 am. This was because it was the best time for animal viewing and it was less hot. The weather was overcast. We were in pursuit of a leopard. We didn’t see anything all morning. Then towards late morning, it happened. We saw a short glimpse of a leopard, then it was gone. While we were driving around trying to find it, Sue’s poncho caught on a thorn bush, but we had to leave it for the time being. The leopard came out again. Brent said that the leopard didn’t like the poncho there. We thought he was joking but we watched the leopard slowly approaching the poncho. He pondered it for a bit, then attacked in an intense moment of aggression. He brought it back to his lair just as a hyena was approaching. We had to go on a rescue mission to the poncho. It was creating chaos in the natural order of things. Three giant elephants then marched by our path. It was a 15 minute burst of excitement and activity. At night we saw a teenage elephant pretend to charge us, and when we didn’t budge he stormed off in embarrassment.

After our safari, we went to Cape Town before the long journey back to Dakar. Maybe another member will submit something for the rest of the trip?...

My house was getting rediculous and it needed such a cleaning job that I just had to wait for a whole weekend to devote to the task.

Problem A: Bag in corner full of large cock roaches and crickets.

Solution to Problem A: Outdoor shakedown followed by cockroach murder fest. Those things move quickly. After the shakedown, I cleaned the bag with Omo (laundry detergent) and left it in the sun for four days continuously.

Problem B: Mouse eaten hole of substantial size. That must have taken team work! About two kilos of dirt was hiding in the corner underneath the hole.

Solution to Problem B: Bought cement and crammed about a third of the dirt back into the hole sealing the way for intruders at least in the rest of my time here. The mice were poisoned (three of them appearing to be family) eventually by rat poisoned benechin, banana slices and onion pieces. And the compound cats didn't waste any time, they snuck in my house and ate those dead rats. Food chain in action.

Problem C: Continued cricket infestation.

Solution to Problem C: No wholistic solution as of yet but most have been discouraged by large amounts of insecticides. Despite several individuals' beliefs that these crickets are harmless, I beg to differ. There are always crickets around the latrine and they poop all over the place, it's nasty and inconvenient.

Problem D: Back yard area.

Solution to Problem D: Bathroom Area mopped, swept the dirt surrounding my trees and new bed of lettuce and tomatoes. It is looking fresh back there. The mosquito net is the last of the problems...it's dirty.

So now that we are into the cold season it is easy to maintain the cleanliness. I have even cleaned my jar and am using it because due to the cold nights, the water is like ice at the heat of the day, nice!

In other news, I am in Dakar! It is a fun city and so much bigger than Kombo with story buildings even. I am going on Wednesday to the American Embassy with my counterpart to sign for the funding to begin the wall building project at my school...Finally! And looks like computers and solar are on the way! That is pretty exciting news. Additionally, the library is almost finished. Hope to get some pictures soon so that you can all see.

The Ramadan is finished and things have gone back to normal as far as eating is concerned. I was surprised to find that school was up and running pretty effectively through the duration of Ramadan. The library is still not open yet. I am waiting for the shelves to be fixed so I can put the books on them and finally open it. On the bright side, it looks as though a man from the community is willing to be trained as the permanent librarian for when I leave. Hopefully the official opening will take place next term and the training can begin immediately.

On Saturday, I will have been in village for 50 days. It has been difficult at times but now with only two days left, I am extremely excited to get out for a bit.

My favorite boy in the village has returned and has grown about three inches since last I saw him. Vacationing in Kombos has made him look healthier. He is even too heavy for me to sqing around like before. Along with Mamut Ceesay has come Kinnay, my favorite teacher friend. Things in the village are lively again. Small Nday Ami is the cutest girl in the village and she is highly swingable. The great thing about being in villages is that there are so many kids so when one grows and becomes less cute, there is always another kid to fill in the gap. It's also one of the bad things about being in villages. In some families, you can really see the effects of having too many children to support.

One of the women in Kinnay's compound, Ndey, just gave birth to twin girls. They both died. The conversation between me and Fatouma, the bearer of the news, went like this (in Ollof):

"You haven't been to the compound lately."

"Yeah I have had a lot of work now that school has started."

"Ndey gave birth to twin girls."

"Really, that is fantastic...gushing for a bit."

"They passed away at the hospital."

I was very upset about this as I was ready for a baby to take my name Awa Njie if it were a girl. If you have twins, it is common for them to be Awa and Adama so I man have had my wish. I visited Ndey and her mother who had come and shred some time at the compound.It is very sad indeed. She does have one son though so that's good. Pa Katime...a silly kid. He always has a soft, sly look on his face and he is always dirty even right after washing. But he is pretty cute since he has warmed up to me.

Since this time I saw Ndey in her village and she looked a whole lot better and happier. But loosing children is not treated with much attention, it's just another fact of life. It is hard to say what Ndey actually feels about it psychologically but a lack of a strong education perhaps makes it easier. There are a lot of thoughts about it she probably doesn't have. And the way society regards losing children probably helps, a get past it and move on with your life kind of attitude. None of this take time and explore your emotions stuff they think is important in the West. Sometimes it is better not to think deeply into things.

Day two of Ramadan (the holy month of fasting) and counting. Even though I have chosen not to fast, Ramadan will be difficult. There is nothing to eat during the day except left overs and I do not like to eat late at night so I only eat a small bit of the fresh food so that I can save the rest for the next day. Yesterday, I ate bread with degue and syrup for breakfast, crazins and walnuts for lunch, and beans and supakanja (okra with ground nut cake) for dinner most of which has been saved for today's eating. I was lucky to receive my self prepared package of food recently so I was able to eat tuna fish nearly everyday for lunch with rycrisps, and I cooked some rice and beans once or twice.

And everyone is so depressed looking. It is an atmosphere of lethargy that is rather contagious. People tend to be pretty quiet until the sun has set. That means boredom for me as school opens on Monday (or really Wednesday).

Let me talk now about the critters I have in my rainy season hut and the big plans I have for my back yard. Now when I moved into my hut, it was during the dry season. I had the passing thought, wow there are no critters in this house it is great (aside from the occasional lizzard or lost cock roach) many times. After I arrived back from the U.S. A slew of unwanted friends set up camp as I mentioned in a previous blog. But now here is a profile update:

The mouse: There is a new mouse on the scene. At first there was just noise in the middle of the night here and there and little mouse poops everywhere. But now it's time to bring in the poison. The thing crawled all over my inner roof, peed from up there so that it came through my mosquito net and dripped on my leg. He or she crawls all over my bed in the middle of the night (under my matress) waking me up freaking me out that maybe this time he found a way to be actually on my bed (a lethal encounter that would be and I think I would emerge the victorious one in that fight). He or she chewed through my nice baggie of degue (natural local peanut butter). And the noise in combination with those things is really too much to handle. On several occasions, I am awoken in the middle of the night to find with my torchlight that the mouse is clinging to the outside of my mosquito net right next to my head. They should call mosquito nets something else really, the impenatrable shield maybe.

The lizzard: poops on top of my "mosquito" net.

The cockroach: about the size of a lighter. Hangs out on the upper right hand of my curtain. I never see it except at night sitting right there without fail. One night I made an attempt at ending this cockroach's boldly complaisent hang out fest once and for all, but that thing can MOVE! I make a swift whack at it with my whacking shoe and next thing you know the thing is making scrambling noises on the other side of the room. So now we pretty much avoid each other.

The crickets: New hideout, behind the water jar. There is a whole new family of crickets residing right where the water jar touches the wall. There are two huge crickets and then like 20 small ones. and you try to get rid of them but they just flock to their other hideouts throughout the hut. It is an inevitable presence that is best left until the dry season knocks them off.

Now, last you all heard, the papaya tree was massive. But now, there are over thirty papayas growing and ripening on the tree. It is really amazing. The mango tree is about a foot and a half tall with about twenty leaves, and I have now dug a bed for a garden of lettuce and tomatoes. I am also going to plant some guava tree seeds in the uninhabited corner of my back yard so that there will be four trees growing. You are probably thinking four? Well there was an unknown tree planted in one corner prior to my arrival said to have leaves with beneficial medicinal value. So it will be the beginnings of an exotic forest before I go. Sweet.

Arriving back in Kombo on the 9th was not so strange, it was actually kind of nice. But the combination of rainy season and village life is altogether a bit different to readjust to. After spending an hour waiting for the ferry and another hour waiting for the car to leave for Kerr Pateh, I arrived at 4:15, a four hour journey.

Arriving at my house, I opened my doors and windows to find an invasion of crickets!At least it wasn't roaches but everywhere I would look would be a little clan of crickets with a secret hideout. When I would discover one place, the clan would move to anothyer hideout I hadn't found yet. Much like the never ending hunt for the Taliban I would imagine. Fortunately for me a can of bugspray does the trick and more than 50 crickets emerged from their hideouts.

Then came the back yard. Remember that inocent, peacefully growing papaya tree that was once on the verge of death? Well, it had doubled in haight about 7' now, it has doubled it's trunk thickness, the leaves are a foot wide and a foot long, and there are the fruiting flowers budding already. Is it a surprise that I feel like it will consume me everytime I go to the loo at night? Besides that , the rest of my yard has bloomed into a forest which thankfully Babucar was able to cut down with speed. The mango tree is still there at about 1' tall.

And a lizzard went to town pooping everywhere, 30 or 40 stools of which remain on top of my mosquito net. Needless to say I did not feel welcome in the house when I first arrived. Now that I have cleaned, sprayed, and weeded, things are getting back to normal.

The compound was welcoming yet very quiet when I arrived. Fatou and Awa were in Banjul so it was just Ramatoulie, Roxie (a temporary replacement for Fatoumundow), and the boys.

Definition of Small Boy:

n. A person, usually a boy, who is physically smaller or younger than yourself whom you ask to run an errand. Example: Buy me some ataya, small boy (or just boy for short).

v. A term used to refer to the act of being a small boy. Example: Can I small boy you for some Coke Light from the bitik?

Applications of a Small Boy:

-Buying ataya, sugar, matches, cigarettes, mangoes, bread, candles, or pretty much anything you can find at a bitik

-Brewing ataya, or lait

-Getting water from faraway places when it is not at your fingertips

-Providing seating when not everyone who is not a small boy has a place to sit comfortably

-Taking mobiles to get charged

-Telling people in other compounds or even villages something inane like "I think it is going to rain today."

-Driving you somewhere for free

-Buying beer for you and your friend at a bar or club if you give them the money

-Retreiving a prayer mat when you don't have one at your fingertips

-Skinning goats

-Pretty much anything trivial and without much skill that you need to do but are too lazy to...a new application just created is running a kite you just made to see if it will fly.

The headmaster at my school decided to try flying it but decided it made him look foolish (it did especially because the kite was too heavy and was just dragging on the floor). So after some thought he calls over, "Hey Boy! You there, tssssssssss. (in ollof). I want you to run very fast all around the field with this to see if this kite will fly." A Small Boy cannot refuse to do whatever it is that is asked so off the kid ran with the kite looking foolish as hell.

So I went to the market area to buy some mangoes the other day and it turned out to be a whole lot more.

I like to go for my two mangoes at twilight when all the good ones come out and the flies go wherever they go when not being the most irritating factor of daytime mango eating. Good ones are relatively large, yellow and green or pink/orange and green, and they have a firmness that just gives slightly when you press on all surfaces. There are many varieties of mango here (about five that I have seen) and they all seem to have different flavors. The pink/orange ones have a citrusy aftertaste, the yellow ones have a coconut/pineapple aftertaste, and there are some big ones with thick skin that taste like tomatoes (great for mango salsa which incidentally I just made today with some unripe green/yellow mangoes). I am making a kick ass salad tonight with fresh romaine-like lettuce, mango salsa, roasted peppers and onions, black eyed peas, chopped veggies, and lemon pepper tuna packs from Jenny's packages. Serekunda Market is a magical place that gets better everytime you go.

But back to the real story behind this post...Apparently, there is an adult literacy program in Kerr Pateh (That explains the free standing two room school house a ways from the actual school). They met for the first time I have seen by chance when I was buying my daily stash of mangoes. Well three women came to ask me to buy them mangoes (as always happens when I go to the market) and I asked them, "Foi dem?" (where are you going?) And they said they were going to class at the school buildings. I decided to go and check it out. We sat down and shot the stuff (in place of a not so bad profanity) for a while. That includes (everytime), "Ana se jeker?" (where is your husband?), "A mut jeker," (don't have one), "Lutta?" (why?)...I reply with different things at different times depending on my mood. Then it went into, "you teach us tubab language and we will teach you Ollof." Naturally, the women wanted to discuss the vocabulary for private parts and they wanted to know, "Do tubab women have a period?" and "What do you do about that?" I showed them a tampon and it was as if I were showing them an object from another planet. The women here use rags that they just wash most of the time so to see this was something of amazement.* We talked about some more things, three of the women wanted to offer me their sons and their babies, and then there were a couple of drama productions on malaria and using mosquito nets. All quite interesting, and a way of bonding with the women of Kerr Pateh.

*For some reason at this very moment I can hear the Duggie Howzer music playing as I write this. I don't remember what kinds of things he wrote but that early nineties sound is there.

Sixty braids in my hair. Now I know...a small fragment of what it means to be a woman in this society. Three afternoons, ten hours, and pain, all for a month's style and fabulousness. If I spoke more Ollof, I would be able to gossip away the time as I often see the women doing here in Kerr Pateh...If I am only hearing a fragment of the gossip then this town is full of DRAMA!

For me, even the six month scheduled visit for color and cut, painless and even comfortable, despite the hour hours of sitting, seems like a drag. But for the African woman, braiding is a must and you have to do it at least every two months. Nothing seems to be easy! "It's not easy in The Gambia."

And after a solid day of prim pain and a feeling of blood coursing freely through the suspended skinof my scalp, an itching sets in. Due to the crappiness of the weave (super bleach blonde color), if feels like I am wearing a cheap wool sweater on my head with nothing under and no chance of taking it off. Next time, I will invest in some hair that is more like cashmere. Now I think this style looks kind of silly on me, but like anything I do here, everyone assures me that it makes me look like a young girl and they all say, "sa lait bi refetna!" and, "yanga nos" (your braids are lovely, and you are surely enjoying).

After four days I cannot stand the itching! I decided to take them out...just not worth it. Now everyone says, "Ana sa mesh bi, fireeko?" (Where are the braids, you took them out?) and "Lutta?" (why?). I say, "Dangai xesen bo bah" (they were very itchy). What is cool about hanging out in village is that nothing ever gets old. The same people will be having the same conversation with me everytime they see me for months to come. And every time they will say, "Bo pare, my ma mesh deguna?" (When you are ready you give me the extensions, understand?) and everytime the response will be the same, "Ci elek" (tomorrow).

After the last car to Misira Wallow did not show up, Awa and I decided to hitch a ride with the fish car that comes to Kerr Pateh from Senegal just about everyday with fresh fish. Modou knew the roads very well and thus went swiftly. I felt like I was on a roller coaster at an amusement park as we bounced over the pot holes and stopped in each village to pick up left over fish. The ride took about two hours and the air surrounding the car was pungent with the odors of day old fish.

Once we got there, we put down our belongings, took baths and got ready to greet everyone. When we got to the groom's compound we were given benechin and we sat around talking until it was time for drumming and dancing. The night was bitterly cold for The Gambia (60 degrees with wind). But after kicking two people out of the bed inside, Awa and I slept soundly.

On saturday, I met many of the people from the family tree and also saw Sambou and Sako again. We waited around for the bride to be brought to the compound sheathed in a whitel sheet so that she had to be guided around by her mother and sister while family and friends sang ceremonial wedding songs in a trail behind her.

Once she entered the compoundand was seated, out came the puppets designed as a mockery of the bride's parents. Family members of the husband will come and make fun by pretending to make out with the father and then having the mother puppet appear to be upset. It is entertaining, but Awa assures me that if I knew what they were saying during all of this I would be doubled over with laughter.

After the maribous and men of the families give their advice and good prayers for the couple, we eat. Benechin with ram's meat and coos poridge with sour milk. Awa and I eat until very full and then sleep.

As it came to afternoon, Awa and I went to bathe and get ready. I had a special outfit made of orange and forest green tie and die. The whole thing had a "rass" fringe (think two inch wide dust ruffle), so it was pretty crazy. I also had a matching orange "bi ban la" to go under my wrapper. Yarn and tinsel woven into a sort of web which you are to reveal when dancing and to which all of the women that you dance for hoot and holler at upon revelation.

Once we arrived back at the compound, family members were crowded around and the dowry of pans, meters and meters of fabric and other items were being passed out. Along with this of course was dancing, drumming and singing. People who dance are to give money to the host of the dowry passing. So of course when I show up it's a big deal. Immediately everyone starts singing a song about Awa Njie, so I get in the middle of all of those women and start dancing. I pass some money to the host and when I receal my "bi ban la" they all scream with delight and start chanting "bi ban la"...great fun.

Then came the bride to the compound driven in a car and done up with pounds of makeup and lots of hair weave with touches of gold so that her head looked like a barbie doll head. She had an identically dressed entourage of sisters and friends following her as she walked on mats leading to the compound. Many pictures were taken and the bride even changed into another outfit midstream.

After eating lunch of benechin, we waited for a vehicle paid for by the groom's parents to take many people back to Ngaine. The waiting started at 6:30. I changed my clothes around nine. There were several false alarms until finally I fell asleep on a mat in the compound around ten thirty. At 11, I was woken in a haste to find out that the car was really there and that Awa was on it. I bolted up, grabbed my backpack and the pan with material and Awa's bag inside and started toward the vehicle. I ran into Sambou on the way and he urged me to move faster. We started walkig around the gelley to see if we could see Awa in the midst of the no less than fifty people packed into the car. We walked around to the side where one of the bride's maids was attempting to crawl through the window with some people pushing and some people pulling on her. She made it in as we rounded the front of the car past an angry looking driver towards the back where finally we saw Awa and she started telling me to come in amidst beeping signaling that the car was leaving and the awarante telling me to go away. I paid no attention, grabbed the handle of the door with one hand and as the car started to move, I ran as fast as possible, pushed the pan into the car and jumped into the vehicle and shoved my way into a seat on the bench. We were moving pretty quickly and the woman sitting next to me was trying to give a baby that wasn't hers back to the mother back at the ceremony. So the car stopped, and the aparante sprinted back with the baby who was screaming. And off we went with over fifty peopkle in a twenty passenger van. Gambians seem to have magical abilities for taking up almost no space.

We made it safely to Ngaine where the aparante attempted to recruit me as aparante for the gelley. We just had to get on that car and by some divine intervention it all worked out.

It is one thing to read books about the history of the country in which you have been raised, but it is entirely another to actually be in a country foreign to you and read a novel concerning the history imposed on a culture that you are seeing with your own eyes. It is difficult that not so long ago, the slave trade was making its way through the very villages that I have passed through here in The Gambia. It certainly brings a new meaning to "Tubob". I think mothers still tell their children of the fearsome tubob that will eat them if they are not careful, as children tend to run screaming when they see me. And Colleen during training would tell some Kwinella kids that she would eat them and they were really shaken with some fear; that was funny though as the kids were such pests. But Roots was a very interesting book, I suggest it again after mentioning it before I had read it. It is long but interesting especially if you plan to come here.

So I hope you all saw the lunar eclipse. I have never witnessed a celestial happening with such clarity and undisturbed view. I was in back of my house taking a shower by moon light, as it is pretty much like day with the full moon, and all of a sudden, Awa is frantically calling me, I thought something bad had happened and quickly got dressed and came outside. "Look!" she says, "The moon is going and if it goes, it will remain night forever!" The lunar eclipse was slowly happening and the moon appeared to be a dark reddish color. I could see this from my back yard and was thinking...I came out here for this? I tried to explain the situation but that didn't stop my compound from praying to Allah until the moon reappeared after I had gone to sleep. It was quite a comical situation of two very different schools of thought.

Never before yesterday would I have been able to say that I had spoken five languages legitimately and genuinely but yesterday, I spoke English, Wollof, Mandinka, Fula, and French. It was great, and that is why I love the lumoo. I am getting to know all of the sections b language and goods being sold, and I know where to go to get the good deals. Yesterday, I got a kilo of egg plant, a kilo of sweet potatoes, a kilo of carrots, a half kilo of potatoes, a kilo of onions, a half kilo of red onions, a kilo of cabbage, a kilo of tomatoes all for 113Dalasis ($4.05)...pretty incredible (for a kilo think two large cabbages or five nicely sized egg plant.

New critter development, I now have a mouse in my house that I saw for the second time today. this morning a bit of my banana was missing and tonight, I saw it trying to get into my food box. I think I fooled it though by placing books on top f the box. Now the only possibility would be for the mouse to chew through a corner or something. It's a tiny mouse really. Pretty soon I may have to get lethal though because it poops everywhere.

In work news, things seem to be at a stand still. I did a cool lesson in the nursery school in which I read a self written book in English and Wollof. It was called Bour Benna Fan (King for one day) and it was trying to get the kids to think about what they would do if they were king for one day. Inspiring creativity is a challenge here. The kids have a tremendous fear of being wrong, and I think they are made to feel inadequate in pretty much every way by society until they get older. We had the kids decorate paper crowns after the reading and that went over very well. They were all so cute wearing the crowns that just happened to match their uniforms. Some kids even came for several days wearing them to school. It was very cute. This is not something sustainable though...There is no way the teacher they have in there would possibly create a story like that for various reasons. And it was really time consuming which was fine because at the time I didn't have much else to do, but it took six hours to put it all together and no teacher is willing to invest that much time into one lesson or even a sequence of lessons. The reason why there is nothing to do right now is because of the shelves. Contrary to the illustration and plan that was agreed upon, the shelves are not designed to fit books, many of them will not fit on the shelves. Not nice...(since then a nicer shelf has been made and we are expecting one more of that type).

The Embassy has not come through on the funding for the wall project yet either. I think it will be a while. (Since then they have stopped by to check over the plan and make sure that everything was in place). Teachers are still going forward with the same teaching styles I saw before...teachers who were not playing games or doing activities are still not playing games or doing activities.

February 14 was an excellent day in The Gambia. Not because it was Valentine's Day, but because everything went according to plan plus coinsidentally, three hippie European types showed up with a bunch of books they were just giving away!

I had planned to go to Kerewan in order to check out the store room; it was sad, dirty and not much there, but I did get a few science classroom materials. It ended up that there were some Europeans camping out at the Upper Basic School with thousands of books to give away. It was a man from Germany, a woman from Holland, and a woman from Spain. They were all relatively good looking, but they were so unkempt that it was distracting. Apparently, they wanted to start a book mobile here due to the manageable size of The Gambia, but they realized upon arrival that there were already two book mobiles that were largely out of commission here. So, on to plan B...drive around the country and give away the books.

I took two boxes of 161 books total for read alouds and beginning readers. I got to see the KMC once again who were preparing to go to WAIST, and awesomely unexpectedly I got to check e-mail at the ADWAC facility in Kerewan. The raffle I planned is being held currently (today is Friday), hopefully all is going well in my absence.

Today Awa took me with her to a marriage ceremony in Senegal. The people are very nice here and I have only heard tubab a few times. It is all of Awa's family. Once again (as at all wedding ceremonies I have been to), there is much eating of benechin and there will be much dancing very soon.

Valentine's Day, not a holiday I would foget were I home. I was reminded yesterday that it was coming up on Wed. and was surprised that even though I have a calendar in my house, I forgot. I don't really much like the holiday anyhow; unfailingly it is a day of unmet expectations.

Well, the reason why so many days have gone by without a blog entry is because work is finally picking up. After the workshop, I started work with the library. I can see why Peace Corps was hesitant to place another volunteer here. Not so long ago (8 months maybe) Kerr PAteh had another volunteer. She organized the library and it was in use. However, the current state of the library was an unbelievably dirty, completely unorganized splay of books. Upon first look, I figured the books were out-of-date or impractical for use, but after sorting all of the books, I was shocked and appalled to find that the books are highly practical and are practically new but wasting away. It was mystifying. So I asked around and it turns out there was a wind storm that blew the poorly constructed shelves down, and no one was able to reorganize, or so they say. The people (teachers/staff) are very capable here at Kerr Pateh Basic Cycle School, but it seems that the real problem is that no one cares about the library enough to organize it. It's a freign concept that has been instaled by a foreigner. The community, nor the school support the library on any real level. They want to use it but they dont want to put in the effort to organize it.

I practically organized the books so that same texts are at least together, on my own, four out of fifteen people helped and only one for any significant period of time. But I have been making it clear at every oportunity possible that I am not here to do but to help and that if teachers and staff are reluctant to take an interest in redeveloping the library, then I would not be able to do anything in there. So, hopefully when the shelves are installed, people will be interested in maintaining its organization.

If the shelves turn out the way I imagine, they will be very strong and practical. We are trying to use the metal frames from broken desks by breaking them down, and rebuilding them into shelves with wooden planks to support the books. We (the headmaster and myself) thus have no material expense, only labor costs to worry about. So that is great.

The wall project is in a stagnant period. The funding has not come through but we have a nice earning from the Jelebaa concert.

The first school-based workshop on integrating games and activities into the classroom to make learning more child centered when very well. We started around 10:00 am (8:30 scheduled start time almost always one to three hours off schedule), but moved through everything efficiently so that we still finished at two. I arrived at the school, just in case people were on time, at 8:30 but I had a while to prepare fully while people slowly rolled in. Once everyone was settled, Mr. Jarra conducted opening remarks and prayers. Fatou Ceesay Jr. did a wonderful presentation on her experience as a student and as a teacher in The Gambia talking about the advantages you have as a student especially if your parents are involved and the lack of parental involvement she sees as a teacher. In addition, she spoke about the lack of resources and lack of attention of the students while she teaches.

I had the teachers play some games and do activities that I know about, which they enjoyed. We played jeopardy with ninth grade exam questions, which the teachers were highly enthusiastic about, and Fatou Dem showed us additional games to use in the classroom.

Things that went well:

-playing the games

-flow and ahead of time preparation

-participation and headmaster's encouragement

Things to do next time:

-get volunteer organization to pay per diem

-invite other Peace Corps to present their ideas

-invite more people to present...have a team partner to plan every aspect of the workshop along with me

-more advanced notice for teachers who often leave for weekends

Since the workshop has taken place, Fatou Kinnay has taken an interest in having me help her to make teaching aids for activities in her class. It is a lot of fun and I am getting to know her and her fourth grade class pretty well.

In other news, as it turns out, my family was doing Fatoumata Drame a favor by letting her stay here. Her parents are poor and live in Senegal so she came to work here in exchange for better living arrangements. While I was in Kombo, apparently Fatou started having some mental issues so her parents came to take her for help. No one knows if she will come back because allegedly her father wants to marry her off for some much needed cash. He and his wife apparently visited a maribou (traditional doctor here) who performed a juju that would make her upset and want to return home...Very sad that she is gone. I wonder if she is ok. And I have now taken the responsibility of doing my own laundry...not nice.

Other than that, being back is quite nice. Hopefully I will visit the KMC and Harrinder at least once, I will visit Brian or he will visit, and maybe I will go to Ferefenni and check it out.

Jelebaa was amazing! I have no doubts that any of you there would not have enjoyed the performance immensely. Jelebaa live was very amazing, especially since somehow at both concerts I have been to here in The Gambia, I have been right next to the stage. I even got my picture taken with Jelebaa. Usu Ndur was a great concert as well. It was very fun having matching outfits with the other female teachers; it took away from being the only white person there.

It is really quite strange being part of an audience in The Gambia. It definitely magnifies the fact that you are the only one of your kind in the vicinity. All of the stereotypes emerge in situations like that. Some people laugh that I am wearing Gambian dress and when I try to dance in the Gambian style. Some even chant xalis (money) after briefly greeting. So it is very interesting and you definitely feel like an outsider looking in on an event rather than fully a part of it.

On Saturday, I decided to share some Americanness with the fam. I cooked a lunch of mac and cheese with a little bit of tuna, and we roasted marshmallows beforehand. They were a hit. My "grandmother" was picking at bits of the outer burnt mallow crust very cautiously as if it were an alien substance. Everyone loved the mac and cheese with bits of tuna. I saved one box for emergency purposes along with one of the tuna packs. So while on the issue of stuff to send, here is list 2007!:

FOOD

mac and cheese (Velveeta squeeze pack style)

tuna packs (smallest available)

dried fruit

granola

nuts other than peanuts

cup soups to which you add boiling water

any Mexican stuff e.g. salsa, taco seasoning

any mixes cake/pancakes/cookies

STUFF

any books that are old or not used for children or adults (esp. children) that are relevant fiction and non-fiction...new books are not great because they may be stolen and possibly unused for a long period of time

envelopes (peal and seal only...I have about a hundred envelopes that are sealed shut from heat)

ball point pens (just a couple are fine)

paper/note pads

books are always welcome