... you will look for yours on earth.
how many times have i sung that song and never actually stopped to think about the words? (get up, stand up ... bob marley). that was playing in the gellah gellah on the way into brikama and it made me reflect on my time here in africa, and what life will be like when i return to the US. in fact, i've spent much of the last few days thinking about this experience - laughing with sandra about our ups and downs, wondering what will come of the sarr family who i've grown to love, wondering if i'll ever see them again, if i'll ever return to the gambia.
this is likely to be the last post i write from africa as i don't think i'll make it back to an internet cafe after today. i'll follow up with more pics when i get back to the US, and perhaps some final reflections. maybe i'll do that while sitting in a coffeeshop sipping a latte and eating a muffin. OHMYGOD, imagine! i'm salivating here in the african heat.
there's so many things i'll take with me from this experience. or try, at least: living simply; a morning routine; the joy of reading and writing again; a new definition of what it means to be 'broke,' 'starving,' 'bored,' 'hot,' '(im)patient'; the idea that 'today is for you, tomorrow is for me'; and SO much more that it would be impossible to capture everything here.
i won't miss eating fish with crunchy bones; chickens, dogs and cats picking at my feet when i drop rice; bumster guys yelling 'hey bosslady' at me; children getting whacked; offers of marriage (however amusing); mosquitos in my room; showering with thongs; squatting with a headlamp at 2 in the morning; a razor that squeeks with each pull; a layer of dust on everything; and probably other things i won't even realize until i'm back and don't have to deal with them anymore.
but there's a lot i will miss: beautiful smiles accompanied by hellos and how's-de-days; long spaces of time for myself, guiltily enjoying daydreams; mangos; bucket showers (yes, bucket showers - especially by moonlight or in the heat of the day with lake-temperature water); lively and animated conversations, despite not understanding them; the rice-imposed weight loss program; living in a neighborhood where kids run free and everyone knows everyone; living with 2 long-sleeves, 3 tank-tops, 2 long-shorts, and 1 skirt (aka simply!); the tapalapa (bread); being called 'fatou sarr' as i walk through the village!
i know that i am going to take away a profound sense of appreciation for what i have. and by 'have' i do not mean the material things - though those will be nice, no doubt. a house with electricity, running water, and a toilet sounds just grand. but grateful, rather, for all of the opportunities that i have. to study, to work, to live well, to have healthcare, to love passionately and expressively, to control - where it is possible - my future, to dream with possibility. i know i've appreciated these things - but only in a thoughtless way. thoughtless as in literally 'without thought' - but i certainly have a greater understanding of what these things mean and how lucky i am.
but let that 'luck' not turn to complaisance, that is probably the single biggest wish for myself upon my return. yes, and especially now, i DO know what life is worth ... and i will look for mine on earth.
more when i've crossed continents for the last time for awhile... thanks for sharing the journey with me!
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Friday, April 25, 2008
mangos and mothers
here i am, yet another week gone by (are your weeks going as fast as mine?) and only one week left to go. the end is nigh and tomorrow i can begin to say 'this will be my last ... saturday ... sunday ... monday ... in the gambia.' indeed, it can actually start tonight with my last dinner in fajara with sandra. my week is so packed with the final touches on my projects that this will likely be the last time i get to fajara, unless i need to get to the ATM at all next week (you'll recall there are only 3 ATMs in all of the gambia).
i've had so many little things happen that i want to comment on and share - but i fear they are the kind of moments that will forever remain intensely personal, the kind of you-had-to-be-there moments that wouldn't touch readers of this blog nearly as much as they touched me in that instant. in fact, those moments have made up my three months here, with each day the culmination of moments that have both inspired and motivated, frustrated and upset, but most of all, reminded me of the humanity of us all. this blog, with it's twice-weekly entries, if that, can only really scratch the surface of the ups and downs of this experience. even my own spiral notebook couldn't capture it all if i wrote for hours each night by the light of a candle.
so where to begin on this post on a friday afternoon in brikama? sitting in the same internet cafe of last week, this time in an air conditioned room (sweet joy!) with beautiful arabic chanting on the cassette player in the background and the intrigued murmurs of gambian schoolboys surfing the internet in search of friends. it's been an interesting week - primarily in makumbaya.
(mango season has begun ... yet another sweet and juicy reason to get out of bed each morning!)
firstly a nursery update: the artist has started painting and it looks GREAT! i am so excited to see it finished, which he promises will happen by next friday. african women cooking, village elders sitting under baobob trees, sunrises, sunsets, fishermen casting nets, the alphabet and numbers are just a few of the images he's got sketched on the walls. EXACTLY what i was hoping for. very african! i've had a small training session with the four teachers and have organized another mondo volunteer (a strategic consultant in her other life) to hold 2-3 more training sessions to get the teachers thinking about how they can run their classes and to help them help themselves with lesson plans. the gambian school culture does not encourage creative thinking - so getting them to plan could potentially be a bit of a struggle. i showed the teachers all of the materials i've collected, toys, pens, pencils, stickers, finger puppets, balls, etc etc ... and they are so grateful. 'you try so much fatou, may god grant you many blessings, many children,' they say.
i've named the nursery 'friends of fatou nursery school' ... which i love because the meaning is really threefold. firstly it is YOU dear readers who funded the nursery, my friends from around the world. secondly, it is the villagers who built the nursery, my new friends of makumbaya, and thirdly, the children who will attend are also friends, and will forever be sons and daughters of friends. i cannot say thank you enough to those of you who have donated to the cause and also to those of you who have sent me your prayers, kind words and support! i could not have done this without you and you will forever be appreciated in the gambia. (more later on the breakdown when i return to the US and can tally my excel spreadsheet)
***
i'm still gathering my thoughts about the other half of my experience here in the gambia, the school. it's hard to put this experience into words because it is so unlike anything i might relate to in the US or the UK, or elsewhere for that matter. i remember the first week at the school just being blown away at what they considered 'school.' REALLY?, i remember thinking back in february, this is not school, this is a chaotic mess. and it still is - though since my first week back in february, i've been able to put some semblance of order, or at least an attempt at order, on this chaos that is their version of education. better to describe by experiences, i think:
* during some lessons (usually those when assisting a teacher who is using this as a chance to relax while i work) my fingernails, hands and arms are filled with chalkdust because i've just spent the last 15 minutes copying a verbal reasoning exercise (for example) on the board for the students. the students then spend the next 45 minutes copying this exercise into their notebooks and attmepting to find the next word in the pattern (hark, shark) (well, swell) (train, ______). if they had proper resources, books, photocopy machines, or even those old-fashioned ditto machines with the purple ink like we used to have - they would be SO much further ahead. but alas, they don't. so most days are spent copying the board. about half of the students (if not 3/4) will get the answers wrong, though there won't be much time to review the answers, since there isn't much time left in the day.
* often when i'm teaching and have given instruction for an exercise, as above, which requires writing, about 8-10 students will sit and stare into space. when i walk to their desks, they tell me that they have no paper to write on, that their notebooks are full. an interesting, if obvious, observation in and of itself - they are short on resources. but what i find more telling is the lack of motivation in these students - the lack of desire to find paper so that they might learn; the lack of initiative to find (borrow, beg for) paper any way they can. so they sit. unprepared for the exercise, for class, for life.
* it's a common occurance to see children being beaten at school. only once have i actually seen a student crying because of a lashing. it's usually a whack on the head or the hands. it's threatened more often than it is used, with the stick rising above the head, elbows bent and ready to strike. still sadly, it occurs. another common form (illegal in the gambia, but used anyhow) is to force the children to kneel in the hot sand with the sun beating down on them, their arms raised above their heads, for minutes at a time. sadly for the idea of progress and change, beating and the threat of beating does (at least appear) to work - at least at that moment. the children do behave for the teachers who will beat them. and for us softer teachers, with empty threats and angry eyes, they misbehave. i found myself in a discussion with ebrima about this because another volunteer at the school took issue with this and reported them to ebrima (he is the vice-chair of the school committee). his attitude, and the attitude of most of the teachers at the school is that 'this is africa' - the way we do it, have done, it works, kids are used to it, they get it at home ... so why change? when i find myself at my wits end with 47 students all talking above me - a small part of me agrees. i DON'T of course, and never would - though occasionally i'll whack the table just to make a loud noise.
i wanted to disagree vehemently with ebrima. yes it might work temporarily in that moment, yes it might instill fear in the hearts and minds of these kids, yes it might create the fascade of respect for the teachers - but you CANNOT continue to use the 'this is africa' excuse and expect change/progress. 'this is africa' - but THIS africa also has villages without roads, adequate water supplies, electricity, sixth graders who cannot write complete sentences. is THIS the africa you want?
of course i said none of this.
in part (and mostly) out of respect for him and for africa. this is the kind of debate i might have with sandra again tonight over that bottle of wine - but not the kind i want to have with ebrima in my last week here. but i also stopped myself from the 'west vs rest' and the 'but this is how WE do it and it works' because i remembered the stories my sister's friend recounted about her experiences in a washington DC public school on a stint with americorps - guns, metal detectors at the school doors, teachers getting beaten, drugs, AIDS and pregnancy, self-harm, etc etc etc. and i wasn't so sure that we necessarily have it right either. of COURSE i know DC is not representative of ALL of the US, indeed, hardly most of the US, but i don't have a counter argument yet about what DOES work.
i DO know, however, that it has to come from within. when the aforementioned volunteer expressed her anger at the beatings at a staff meeting, the staff nodded solemnly and agreed that they didn't like the beating either, but also agreed it was really the only way. not in so many words, and not intended as a rebuff to her frustration - but their smiles (smirks?) said it all. so while toubabs can continue to come to the school and let our intolerance of the beating be known, unless the desire and demand for change comes from within the gambian community, i expect continued lip service to progress.
* and it doesn't surprise me that teachers lack the motivation or inspiration to change when they get paid so little. though it's not different from elsewhere in the world where teachers should be - but are not - as well respected or well paid as those in business or trades. there is little pride in teaching. 750-1000 dalasis/month will buy one bag of rice for the family. enough said. but here are (sadly) a few other surprising things i've noticed at the school from the teachers:
- teachers with machettes at school (yes, for the garden project, but STILL, i repeat: machettes at school!)
- teachers smoking, in class and out
- teachers answering cell phones during class and leaving class
- teachers SLEEPING during class
- headmaster sleeping on his prayermat during school hours
- staff meetings during teaching hours, class stops
- teachers not showing up to school (a regular occurance)
- no real structure/timetable to the day, apart from breaks
- teachers leaving class early to buy their lunches to avoid the rush of kids when the bell rings.
all that said, the teachers are lovely people and i do believe they have the potential to be great teachers. there is just a lack of motivation at this school (in my opinion, a lack of leadership from the top, but that's another issue altogether). i don't have anything to compare it to - so i can't tell you whether all schools are like this or not. but the sad thing about this is the way it filters down to the students. the idea of teacher-as-role-model is not one that is given much credence here.
it's a shame really - because i think it can be disheartening for a volunteer to arrive at this and expect to make a change. i know if i hadn't had the nursery project as my primary focus here, i would have had a vastly different gambian experience. still, i think there must be volunteers who would relish the idea of inspiring and turning around a school that seems hopelessly tired. i know if i were here for longer, i would. but three months is but a minute in the life of this school. i do wish them well though. (and have left mondochallenge a list of my suggestions for future volunteers with the school)
but now for some positive spin on the school, it's not ALL doom and gloom, i promise! the children are lovely and each, in their own way, have inspired me and kept me coming back, singing songs, clapping hands, and dancing. my favorite moments:
* there is a jolly phonics song for the letter 'l' that the kids at this school have turned into a dance. 'we lick our lollipops, we lick our lollipops, lll, lll, we lick our lollipops.' the cassette version is a sterile nursery song set to 'the farmer and the dell' ... but the makumbayan version is a raucous, hand-clapping, african-dancing, drum-beating frenzy. and the kids know i love it, and will attempt my african dancing whenever they sing it. so you can imagine, they love the letter L.
* yesterday sarjo manneh, on of my favorites in grade 6 brought me two ripe and delicious mangos from her village (our trees are JUST turning). the generosity of the children, with peanuts, oranges, letters, pictures, handshakes, songs and smiles make my days. i am known throughout the village as 'teacher,' 'fatou' and sometimes 'meagan' (or rather miguel, which is what i think most of them hear when i say meagan). i will miss their waves and calls.
* on wednesday there was a 'program' of appreciation for a dutch toubab who sponsored two new classrooms for the school. it was a big day, all of the teachers bought uniforms to wear (blue tie-dye, i opted out, i have enough outfits now!), and the toubabs paid for a lunch of benechin, the gambian dish, for all of the children cooked by the local woman. i spent all day wednesday in the 'kitchen' with the ladies helping where i could. one woman who spoke no english adopted me and together we were responsible for one pot of benechin. and when i say 'pot' - i mean cauldron. this baby had legs of its own that stood above the woodfire that cooked the rice dish. one pot served at least 160 children with hefty sized portions - so you can imagine how big this pot was. i can't really begin to describe was an amazing day it was, despite the fact that the 'kitchen' was really the roofless frame of a building that will one day house the school library, and i was baking in the hot gambian sun for hours. the women laughed at me when the onions made my eyes cry, and when i wiped my eyes (accidentally) with my peppered hands and cried even more, and when my weak arms could not stir the rice in the pot, and when i shrieked when dropping the chicken pieces into gallons of fiery spitting oil, and as i moved my chair to follow the shade. it was a glorious afternoon, and despite their laughter at me, at which i laughed too, of course, i would have stayed for hours more in the hot sun to share the lovely time with the gambian women and to be a part of their world. to see how 8 women were able to cater for over 600 children in 6 hours was a testament to just how amazing and hardworking these african women are. a serious force to be reckoned with, PTA mothers extraordinaire!
so while there may be so much that the school needs to work on, it's still been an incredible experience for me, challenging and motivating me in ways i wasn't expecting. always the best way!
and with that, i will conclude this (very long) post. thanks for getting this far if you're still reading. perhaps you've been hearing the news about the increase in the price of rice and other food supplies the world over? click here to test your verbal acumen and get rice donated at the same time! (thanks to my cousin sara for passing this along)
happy friday!
i've had so many little things happen that i want to comment on and share - but i fear they are the kind of moments that will forever remain intensely personal, the kind of you-had-to-be-there moments that wouldn't touch readers of this blog nearly as much as they touched me in that instant. in fact, those moments have made up my three months here, with each day the culmination of moments that have both inspired and motivated, frustrated and upset, but most of all, reminded me of the humanity of us all. this blog, with it's twice-weekly entries, if that, can only really scratch the surface of the ups and downs of this experience. even my own spiral notebook couldn't capture it all if i wrote for hours each night by the light of a candle.
so where to begin on this post on a friday afternoon in brikama? sitting in the same internet cafe of last week, this time in an air conditioned room (sweet joy!) with beautiful arabic chanting on the cassette player in the background and the intrigued murmurs of gambian schoolboys surfing the internet in search of friends. it's been an interesting week - primarily in makumbaya.
(mango season has begun ... yet another sweet and juicy reason to get out of bed each morning!)
firstly a nursery update: the artist has started painting and it looks GREAT! i am so excited to see it finished, which he promises will happen by next friday. african women cooking, village elders sitting under baobob trees, sunrises, sunsets, fishermen casting nets, the alphabet and numbers are just a few of the images he's got sketched on the walls. EXACTLY what i was hoping for. very african! i've had a small training session with the four teachers and have organized another mondo volunteer (a strategic consultant in her other life) to hold 2-3 more training sessions to get the teachers thinking about how they can run their classes and to help them help themselves with lesson plans. the gambian school culture does not encourage creative thinking - so getting them to plan could potentially be a bit of a struggle. i showed the teachers all of the materials i've collected, toys, pens, pencils, stickers, finger puppets, balls, etc etc ... and they are so grateful. 'you try so much fatou, may god grant you many blessings, many children,' they say.
i've named the nursery 'friends of fatou nursery school' ... which i love because the meaning is really threefold. firstly it is YOU dear readers who funded the nursery, my friends from around the world. secondly, it is the villagers who built the nursery, my new friends of makumbaya, and thirdly, the children who will attend are also friends, and will forever be sons and daughters of friends. i cannot say thank you enough to those of you who have donated to the cause and also to those of you who have sent me your prayers, kind words and support! i could not have done this without you and you will forever be appreciated in the gambia. (more later on the breakdown when i return to the US and can tally my excel spreadsheet)
***
i'm still gathering my thoughts about the other half of my experience here in the gambia, the school. it's hard to put this experience into words because it is so unlike anything i might relate to in the US or the UK, or elsewhere for that matter. i remember the first week at the school just being blown away at what they considered 'school.' REALLY?, i remember thinking back in february, this is not school, this is a chaotic mess. and it still is - though since my first week back in february, i've been able to put some semblance of order, or at least an attempt at order, on this chaos that is their version of education. better to describe by experiences, i think:
* during some lessons (usually those when assisting a teacher who is using this as a chance to relax while i work) my fingernails, hands and arms are filled with chalkdust because i've just spent the last 15 minutes copying a verbal reasoning exercise (for example) on the board for the students. the students then spend the next 45 minutes copying this exercise into their notebooks and attmepting to find the next word in the pattern (hark, shark) (well, swell) (train, ______). if they had proper resources, books, photocopy machines, or even those old-fashioned ditto machines with the purple ink like we used to have - they would be SO much further ahead. but alas, they don't. so most days are spent copying the board. about half of the students (if not 3/4) will get the answers wrong, though there won't be much time to review the answers, since there isn't much time left in the day.
* often when i'm teaching and have given instruction for an exercise, as above, which requires writing, about 8-10 students will sit and stare into space. when i walk to their desks, they tell me that they have no paper to write on, that their notebooks are full. an interesting, if obvious, observation in and of itself - they are short on resources. but what i find more telling is the lack of motivation in these students - the lack of desire to find paper so that they might learn; the lack of initiative to find (borrow, beg for) paper any way they can. so they sit. unprepared for the exercise, for class, for life.
* it's a common occurance to see children being beaten at school. only once have i actually seen a student crying because of a lashing. it's usually a whack on the head or the hands. it's threatened more often than it is used, with the stick rising above the head, elbows bent and ready to strike. still sadly, it occurs. another common form (illegal in the gambia, but used anyhow) is to force the children to kneel in the hot sand with the sun beating down on them, their arms raised above their heads, for minutes at a time. sadly for the idea of progress and change, beating and the threat of beating does (at least appear) to work - at least at that moment. the children do behave for the teachers who will beat them. and for us softer teachers, with empty threats and angry eyes, they misbehave. i found myself in a discussion with ebrima about this because another volunteer at the school took issue with this and reported them to ebrima (he is the vice-chair of the school committee). his attitude, and the attitude of most of the teachers at the school is that 'this is africa' - the way we do it, have done, it works, kids are used to it, they get it at home ... so why change? when i find myself at my wits end with 47 students all talking above me - a small part of me agrees. i DON'T of course, and never would - though occasionally i'll whack the table just to make a loud noise.
i wanted to disagree vehemently with ebrima. yes it might work temporarily in that moment, yes it might instill fear in the hearts and minds of these kids, yes it might create the fascade of respect for the teachers - but you CANNOT continue to use the 'this is africa' excuse and expect change/progress. 'this is africa' - but THIS africa also has villages without roads, adequate water supplies, electricity, sixth graders who cannot write complete sentences. is THIS the africa you want?
of course i said none of this.
in part (and mostly) out of respect for him and for africa. this is the kind of debate i might have with sandra again tonight over that bottle of wine - but not the kind i want to have with ebrima in my last week here. but i also stopped myself from the 'west vs rest' and the 'but this is how WE do it and it works' because i remembered the stories my sister's friend recounted about her experiences in a washington DC public school on a stint with americorps - guns, metal detectors at the school doors, teachers getting beaten, drugs, AIDS and pregnancy, self-harm, etc etc etc. and i wasn't so sure that we necessarily have it right either. of COURSE i know DC is not representative of ALL of the US, indeed, hardly most of the US, but i don't have a counter argument yet about what DOES work.
i DO know, however, that it has to come from within. when the aforementioned volunteer expressed her anger at the beatings at a staff meeting, the staff nodded solemnly and agreed that they didn't like the beating either, but also agreed it was really the only way. not in so many words, and not intended as a rebuff to her frustration - but their smiles (smirks?) said it all. so while toubabs can continue to come to the school and let our intolerance of the beating be known, unless the desire and demand for change comes from within the gambian community, i expect continued lip service to progress.
* and it doesn't surprise me that teachers lack the motivation or inspiration to change when they get paid so little. though it's not different from elsewhere in the world where teachers should be - but are not - as well respected or well paid as those in business or trades. there is little pride in teaching. 750-1000 dalasis/month will buy one bag of rice for the family. enough said. but here are (sadly) a few other surprising things i've noticed at the school from the teachers:
- teachers with machettes at school (yes, for the garden project, but STILL, i repeat: machettes at school!)
- teachers smoking, in class and out
- teachers answering cell phones during class and leaving class
- teachers SLEEPING during class
- headmaster sleeping on his prayermat during school hours
- staff meetings during teaching hours, class stops
- teachers not showing up to school (a regular occurance)
- no real structure/timetable to the day, apart from breaks
- teachers leaving class early to buy their lunches to avoid the rush of kids when the bell rings.
all that said, the teachers are lovely people and i do believe they have the potential to be great teachers. there is just a lack of motivation at this school (in my opinion, a lack of leadership from the top, but that's another issue altogether). i don't have anything to compare it to - so i can't tell you whether all schools are like this or not. but the sad thing about this is the way it filters down to the students. the idea of teacher-as-role-model is not one that is given much credence here.
it's a shame really - because i think it can be disheartening for a volunteer to arrive at this and expect to make a change. i know if i hadn't had the nursery project as my primary focus here, i would have had a vastly different gambian experience. still, i think there must be volunteers who would relish the idea of inspiring and turning around a school that seems hopelessly tired. i know if i were here for longer, i would. but three months is but a minute in the life of this school. i do wish them well though. (and have left mondochallenge a list of my suggestions for future volunteers with the school)
but now for some positive spin on the school, it's not ALL doom and gloom, i promise! the children are lovely and each, in their own way, have inspired me and kept me coming back, singing songs, clapping hands, and dancing. my favorite moments:
* there is a jolly phonics song for the letter 'l' that the kids at this school have turned into a dance. 'we lick our lollipops, we lick our lollipops, lll, lll, we lick our lollipops.' the cassette version is a sterile nursery song set to 'the farmer and the dell' ... but the makumbayan version is a raucous, hand-clapping, african-dancing, drum-beating frenzy. and the kids know i love it, and will attempt my african dancing whenever they sing it. so you can imagine, they love the letter L.
* yesterday sarjo manneh, on of my favorites in grade 6 brought me two ripe and delicious mangos from her village (our trees are JUST turning). the generosity of the children, with peanuts, oranges, letters, pictures, handshakes, songs and smiles make my days. i am known throughout the village as 'teacher,' 'fatou' and sometimes 'meagan' (or rather miguel, which is what i think most of them hear when i say meagan). i will miss their waves and calls.
* on wednesday there was a 'program' of appreciation for a dutch toubab who sponsored two new classrooms for the school. it was a big day, all of the teachers bought uniforms to wear (blue tie-dye, i opted out, i have enough outfits now!), and the toubabs paid for a lunch of benechin, the gambian dish, for all of the children cooked by the local woman. i spent all day wednesday in the 'kitchen' with the ladies helping where i could. one woman who spoke no english adopted me and together we were responsible for one pot of benechin. and when i say 'pot' - i mean cauldron. this baby had legs of its own that stood above the woodfire that cooked the rice dish. one pot served at least 160 children with hefty sized portions - so you can imagine how big this pot was. i can't really begin to describe was an amazing day it was, despite the fact that the 'kitchen' was really the roofless frame of a building that will one day house the school library, and i was baking in the hot gambian sun for hours. the women laughed at me when the onions made my eyes cry, and when i wiped my eyes (accidentally) with my peppered hands and cried even more, and when my weak arms could not stir the rice in the pot, and when i shrieked when dropping the chicken pieces into gallons of fiery spitting oil, and as i moved my chair to follow the shade. it was a glorious afternoon, and despite their laughter at me, at which i laughed too, of course, i would have stayed for hours more in the hot sun to share the lovely time with the gambian women and to be a part of their world. to see how 8 women were able to cater for over 600 children in 6 hours was a testament to just how amazing and hardworking these african women are. a serious force to be reckoned with, PTA mothers extraordinaire!
so while there may be so much that the school needs to work on, it's still been an incredible experience for me, challenging and motivating me in ways i wasn't expecting. always the best way!
and with that, i will conclude this (very long) post. thanks for getting this far if you're still reading. perhaps you've been hearing the news about the increase in the price of rice and other food supplies the world over? click here to test your verbal acumen and get rice donated at the same time! (thanks to my cousin sara for passing this along)
happy friday!
Friday, April 18, 2008
the little things
sipping an ice cold coke in the computer lab in brikama under a lovely fan, on a dell hard-drive built this century, with a relatively quick internet connection. it doesn't get much better than this (where emailing is concerned) in the gambia.
again, i find another week has gone by, only two more weeks here in the gambia. i'm now starting to think about things i haven't done, or still want to do. kaddy gave me a lesson in making attaya yesterday, and i've bought the supplies i'll need to do this at home (though making tea on a barbeque might be slightly awkward!). i'll head out to the river tomorrow with sandra and possbily a few others to go for a ride down the river gambia with the same guide who took us through abuko last weekend. and sunday COULD be one of the last on the nursery, but equally it may not be as the villager's trial is looming and that has, again, resumed pole position in priority! if we aren't going to work, then i may treat myself to a night at the hotel i stayed in on my first weekend here, just for a change of scene in fajara.
as most of the building is finished, the remaining work is up to others that know what they need to do. the tailor is working on the uniforms, the carpenter is finishing the benches and tables, the artist is finishing up the badges (which look GREAT by the way) and is beginning the artwork/murals on the building and in the classrooms this afternoon (after friday prayers). so my focus for the next two weeks is really the finishing touches (buying teachers' desks, a supply cupboard, paint for the doors) and the internal administration of the school. i'd like to take the newly appointed teachers to the nearby nursery schools so they can see what they are like and how they are run. i'm trying to get a meeting with CCF (christian childrens fund) the co-sponsor for this project (at least in theory, if not in reality) to find out what their intended involvement/follow-up will be. and lastly, i'm trying to organize a makumbaya (only) nursery committee to make sure i am leaving this project with owners to ensure its success. sustainability is a problem here, as you might imagine. they have committees for everything here and it seems that there are always SO many people involved and from SO many villages - they like to be inclusive here and make everyone feel a part - that things don't actually get done. so i want a small committee focused solely on the nursery in makumbaya, made up of makumbaya people, so that things will happen when they need to and the teachers and headmistress have somewhere to turn if they have issues. and that should see me through the next two weeks.
i am now officially certified in jolly phonics - though how useful that will be to me upon my return is questionable. still, it was VERY useful for the teachers who came! i ended up recruiting 10 teachers from the makumbaya area (4 different schools!) and 6 teachers from 2 other mondo schools. 16 total. so fingers crossed they found it just as useful and will really take this back to their schools. they were very appreciative of the opportunity, materials and transport stipends i was able to give them (thanks to YOU!) - so i'm hopeful it will stick.
after the training on wednesday, i treated myself to a double scoop of gelati from the ONLY place in the gambia that sells ice cream (least that i've found). mint chip (surprise!) and chocolate. and it was 10 minutes of heaven as i walked with it up kairaba avenue to get the gellah gellah back to makumbaya. i felt like a three year old with the ice cream melting so fast and dripping all over my fingers and hands. but i was smiling the entire time.
hope you are smiling wherever you are today!
happy birthday a day early to my mother! and happy anniversary to ruth and charlie who have survived their first year of marriage!
and to those friends based in london - hope you're saving saturday, may 3, for a night out! likely to be somewhere on the river - so be in touch with me if you've not heard when and where by then!
again, i find another week has gone by, only two more weeks here in the gambia. i'm now starting to think about things i haven't done, or still want to do. kaddy gave me a lesson in making attaya yesterday, and i've bought the supplies i'll need to do this at home (though making tea on a barbeque might be slightly awkward!). i'll head out to the river tomorrow with sandra and possbily a few others to go for a ride down the river gambia with the same guide who took us through abuko last weekend. and sunday COULD be one of the last on the nursery, but equally it may not be as the villager's trial is looming and that has, again, resumed pole position in priority! if we aren't going to work, then i may treat myself to a night at the hotel i stayed in on my first weekend here, just for a change of scene in fajara.
as most of the building is finished, the remaining work is up to others that know what they need to do. the tailor is working on the uniforms, the carpenter is finishing the benches and tables, the artist is finishing up the badges (which look GREAT by the way) and is beginning the artwork/murals on the building and in the classrooms this afternoon (after friday prayers). so my focus for the next two weeks is really the finishing touches (buying teachers' desks, a supply cupboard, paint for the doors) and the internal administration of the school. i'd like to take the newly appointed teachers to the nearby nursery schools so they can see what they are like and how they are run. i'm trying to get a meeting with CCF (christian childrens fund) the co-sponsor for this project (at least in theory, if not in reality) to find out what their intended involvement/follow-up will be. and lastly, i'm trying to organize a makumbaya (only) nursery committee to make sure i am leaving this project with owners to ensure its success. sustainability is a problem here, as you might imagine. they have committees for everything here and it seems that there are always SO many people involved and from SO many villages - they like to be inclusive here and make everyone feel a part - that things don't actually get done. so i want a small committee focused solely on the nursery in makumbaya, made up of makumbaya people, so that things will happen when they need to and the teachers and headmistress have somewhere to turn if they have issues. and that should see me through the next two weeks.
i am now officially certified in jolly phonics - though how useful that will be to me upon my return is questionable. still, it was VERY useful for the teachers who came! i ended up recruiting 10 teachers from the makumbaya area (4 different schools!) and 6 teachers from 2 other mondo schools. 16 total. so fingers crossed they found it just as useful and will really take this back to their schools. they were very appreciative of the opportunity, materials and transport stipends i was able to give them (thanks to YOU!) - so i'm hopeful it will stick.
after the training on wednesday, i treated myself to a double scoop of gelati from the ONLY place in the gambia that sells ice cream (least that i've found). mint chip (surprise!) and chocolate. and it was 10 minutes of heaven as i walked with it up kairaba avenue to get the gellah gellah back to makumbaya. i felt like a three year old with the ice cream melting so fast and dripping all over my fingers and hands. but i was smiling the entire time.
hope you are smiling wherever you are today!
happy birthday a day early to my mother! and happy anniversary to ruth and charlie who have survived their first year of marriage!
and to those friends based in london - hope you're saving saturday, may 3, for a night out! likely to be somewhere on the river - so be in touch with me if you've not heard when and where by then!
Monday, April 14, 2008
nearly there!
i'm happy to report that we are one wall away from being finished with the painting and the nursery looks GREAT! yesterday was a big day for the project as about 35 men and boys turned up to paint. given that we only had 4 rollers and 3 brushes, the 28 other men had plenty of time to drink attaya and hang around in a grand show of gambian support. the cream classroom walls and sky blue outside look fantastic, and this means that i can get the artist started on the mural this week! hooray!
in other news, abuko nature reserve on saturday was very cool and i'm glad we made the effort to get there - a beautiful side of the gambia, tropical and lush, that i'd not really seen before amidst the red dusty roads, termite mounds and mango trees of the village. we saw crocodiles, monkeys, turtles, hyenas (ok, these were in captivity), and lots and lots of beautiful birds. we found ourself a really nice gambian guide called musa - and sandra and i have agreed that we may meet up with him again this saturday for a boat ride down the river, he has a friend with a boat, in an attempt to check a few more boxes off our 'must do in the gambia' list.
i'm in fajara today to pick up a package my dad had sent with the jolly phonics music (thanks dad - arrived in perfect time!) so that i can leave the jolly jingles with the teachers who are coming up for training tomorrow. so spent the night at sandra's, thankfully in a bed with a ceiling fan, sans mosquitoes! we had dinner last night at leybato and spent a good three hours reminiscing and laughing and philosophizing about our time here.
it was the kind of conversation where a bottle of red (or two) could have kept us up all night attempting to analyze the issues, solve the problems and debate the solutions. lots of questions that really have no easy answers, and where three months of living in west africa can't begin to justify permission for attempting answers.
the conversation started when i asked sandra how much of this experience will really make a difference in our lives when we return? not in the sense that every experience a person has contributes to who they are (and blah blah blah) - but in the sense of how it will affect daily life. will she, for example, return to her straightening iron and asymmetrical catwalk haircuts? will i, for example, spend hours wandering the aisles of whole foods drooling over the basil-infused olive oils and garlic and rosemary sourdough?
i couldn't help but wonder: is it possible to wish for something with all your might while at the same time, hope it doesn't actually come true?
(ha ha. how very carrie bradshaw. intended, of course).
for example (more examples) - i can't wait for luxurious showers under a hot and steaming tap - but i hope i don't forget the economy of a bucket shower, remembering how little i actually need. i can't wait for anything other than fish and rice for dinner - but i hope i don't gorge myself the second i step off the plane just because i CAN, and can for 24 electrified hours of the day if i want. i can't wait to get some new underwear and a change of outfits - but i hope i don't succumb to the materialistic consumerism so rife in the first world, again, just because i CAN. i'm looking forward to fast paced, quick-witted conversation - but i hope i don't forget that it's not always about what i say but rather about how i choose to act and what i choose to do. and i hope that i remember the routines i've established here - but that my excitement for companionship doesn't overshadow the sense of self that has kept me strong here.
so we both agreed that in some ways, we will probably go back to being who we were when we left to a certain degree. (though sandra claims she would like to be a bit more 'salt of the earth' - i like to think she's secretly envying my peasant skirts and faded bandannas, and will get herself a pair of birkenstocks upon return to montreal. though i'm probably wrong). i'm sure for at least a month or so, we'll be converting things into dalasi and finding ourselves dumbfounded at how much we're prepared to pay for the luxuries that we once thought commonplace. but after the first few months, when friends tire of hearing african tales, when the dollar is no longer 1 to 18.50, and when our frame of reference, once again, returns to north america - what then?
this was my challenge to us last night. because i fear it will be easy to slip forward (not back, but still a slip) into what is comfortable and safe, convenient and easy. i bought a hand broom made of palm leaves that they use here every day to remind me of the women who bend at the waist every morning to sweep the sandy floor of the compound. but will *i* use it to sweep my kitchen? unlikely.
perhaps next weekend, likely my last in fajara, sandra and i can find a bottle of red and see about finishing the conversation.
in other news, abuko nature reserve on saturday was very cool and i'm glad we made the effort to get there - a beautiful side of the gambia, tropical and lush, that i'd not really seen before amidst the red dusty roads, termite mounds and mango trees of the village. we saw crocodiles, monkeys, turtles, hyenas (ok, these were in captivity), and lots and lots of beautiful birds. we found ourself a really nice gambian guide called musa - and sandra and i have agreed that we may meet up with him again this saturday for a boat ride down the river, he has a friend with a boat, in an attempt to check a few more boxes off our 'must do in the gambia' list.
i'm in fajara today to pick up a package my dad had sent with the jolly phonics music (thanks dad - arrived in perfect time!) so that i can leave the jolly jingles with the teachers who are coming up for training tomorrow. so spent the night at sandra's, thankfully in a bed with a ceiling fan, sans mosquitoes! we had dinner last night at leybato and spent a good three hours reminiscing and laughing and philosophizing about our time here.
it was the kind of conversation where a bottle of red (or two) could have kept us up all night attempting to analyze the issues, solve the problems and debate the solutions. lots of questions that really have no easy answers, and where three months of living in west africa can't begin to justify permission for attempting answers.
the conversation started when i asked sandra how much of this experience will really make a difference in our lives when we return? not in the sense that every experience a person has contributes to who they are (and blah blah blah) - but in the sense of how it will affect daily life. will she, for example, return to her straightening iron and asymmetrical catwalk haircuts? will i, for example, spend hours wandering the aisles of whole foods drooling over the basil-infused olive oils and garlic and rosemary sourdough?
i couldn't help but wonder: is it possible to wish for something with all your might while at the same time, hope it doesn't actually come true?
(ha ha. how very carrie bradshaw. intended, of course).
for example (more examples) - i can't wait for luxurious showers under a hot and steaming tap - but i hope i don't forget the economy of a bucket shower, remembering how little i actually need. i can't wait for anything other than fish and rice for dinner - but i hope i don't gorge myself the second i step off the plane just because i CAN, and can for 24 electrified hours of the day if i want. i can't wait to get some new underwear and a change of outfits - but i hope i don't succumb to the materialistic consumerism so rife in the first world, again, just because i CAN. i'm looking forward to fast paced, quick-witted conversation - but i hope i don't forget that it's not always about what i say but rather about how i choose to act and what i choose to do. and i hope that i remember the routines i've established here - but that my excitement for companionship doesn't overshadow the sense of self that has kept me strong here.
so we both agreed that in some ways, we will probably go back to being who we were when we left to a certain degree. (though sandra claims she would like to be a bit more 'salt of the earth' - i like to think she's secretly envying my peasant skirts and faded bandannas, and will get herself a pair of birkenstocks upon return to montreal. though i'm probably wrong). i'm sure for at least a month or so, we'll be converting things into dalasi and finding ourselves dumbfounded at how much we're prepared to pay for the luxuries that we once thought commonplace. but after the first few months, when friends tire of hearing african tales, when the dollar is no longer 1 to 18.50, and when our frame of reference, once again, returns to north america - what then?
this was my challenge to us last night. because i fear it will be easy to slip forward (not back, but still a slip) into what is comfortable and safe, convenient and easy. i bought a hand broom made of palm leaves that they use here every day to remind me of the women who bend at the waist every morning to sweep the sandy floor of the compound. but will *i* use it to sweep my kitchen? unlikely.
perhaps next weekend, likely my last in fajara, sandra and i can find a bottle of red and see about finishing the conversation.
Friday, April 11, 2008
houston, we have TEACHERS!
i´ve come to brikama for a 2 hour internet session - because it´s something to do on a very hot friday afternoon that would otherwise be spent under the mango tree. my friend who runs the internet cafe is kindly letting me surf even though the cafe is closed because he´s currently teaching a class of gambians how to use control+b to bold words and other formatting tricks in word. sometimes being a toubab comes in handy.
we had the interviews today for the nursery teachers and have found two teachers and a nanny! i thought the interviews almost wouldn´t happen today because there was another death in town and around the time we were meant to hold the interviews, the entire village processed through the center of town carrying the deceased man in a blue wooden casket. but apparently the burial only lasted a half an hour, so we were able to interview after all.
i´ve interviewed quite a lot of people for positions over the last few years - but somehow ´so tell me who you are when you´re not at work´ just didn´t seem an appropriate question here. actually i wish i could have gotten them on film because it was just fantastically gambian. four of us interviewed the 5 candidates one-at-a-time. each interview lasted about 5 minutes, with the potential teacher explaining in very broken english why they wanted to work in the nursery. two boys were far too young and hadn´t gotten further than grade 10, so were pretty much disqualified immediately. (plus they were wearing african red/yellow/green necklaces and sweatpants and the alkalo (village chief) didn´t think their appearance was professional). one of the men applying is a man who has been working on the nursery every sunday, [robably ebrima´s age, so i knew him fairly well. and the other two girls had at least graduated from grade 12 - the highest grade before going to college here. so seeing as we needed 2 teachers and an assistant, the candidates remaining chose themselves, with the more timid girl, it was decided, being offered the assistant position.
this means that we will be able to get them to the jolly phonics training next week - which was part of the reason for rushing the hiring. itś hard to tell whether these are going to be serious candidates. but frankly, they are the ONLY candidates, so we have to hope that they are serious. thatś the part that is hard for me to control - so i can only do what i can with the teachers and headmistress in my remaining time here and hope that the momentum continues, and that mondo continue sending volunteers who can work with them.
in any case - another huge item checked off my list, which is getting smaller and smaller since i leave three weeks from today!
i managed to bargain with the fabric seller and got the uniform light-blue gingham fabric down to 30d/meter! so i bought enough material to make 150 uniforms - which should see them through 3 installments of kids. and the fabric is now with the tailor who should be finishing them next week.
AND the men are back, at least until their trial on april 22. so the carpenter is back and can continue the benches, the masoners have returned to the job onsite and i think sunday we´ll be able to paint inside and out so that the muralist can start the artwork next week.
a big thank you again to everyone who has donated! it´s really coming together!
sandra and i are going to visit the abuko nature reserve tomorrow - something i´ve been meaning to do since i got here because gambia is known for their birds, and apart from HEARING them in the morning, i´ve hardly seen them in their best light. apparently there are monkeys and crocodiles too. what fun!
more next week when i get into town! happy friday!
we had the interviews today for the nursery teachers and have found two teachers and a nanny! i thought the interviews almost wouldn´t happen today because there was another death in town and around the time we were meant to hold the interviews, the entire village processed through the center of town carrying the deceased man in a blue wooden casket. but apparently the burial only lasted a half an hour, so we were able to interview after all.
i´ve interviewed quite a lot of people for positions over the last few years - but somehow ´so tell me who you are when you´re not at work´ just didn´t seem an appropriate question here. actually i wish i could have gotten them on film because it was just fantastically gambian. four of us interviewed the 5 candidates one-at-a-time. each interview lasted about 5 minutes, with the potential teacher explaining in very broken english why they wanted to work in the nursery. two boys were far too young and hadn´t gotten further than grade 10, so were pretty much disqualified immediately. (plus they were wearing african red/yellow/green necklaces and sweatpants and the alkalo (village chief) didn´t think their appearance was professional). one of the men applying is a man who has been working on the nursery every sunday, [robably ebrima´s age, so i knew him fairly well. and the other two girls had at least graduated from grade 12 - the highest grade before going to college here. so seeing as we needed 2 teachers and an assistant, the candidates remaining chose themselves, with the more timid girl, it was decided, being offered the assistant position.
this means that we will be able to get them to the jolly phonics training next week - which was part of the reason for rushing the hiring. itś hard to tell whether these are going to be serious candidates. but frankly, they are the ONLY candidates, so we have to hope that they are serious. thatś the part that is hard for me to control - so i can only do what i can with the teachers and headmistress in my remaining time here and hope that the momentum continues, and that mondo continue sending volunteers who can work with them.
in any case - another huge item checked off my list, which is getting smaller and smaller since i leave three weeks from today!
i managed to bargain with the fabric seller and got the uniform light-blue gingham fabric down to 30d/meter! so i bought enough material to make 150 uniforms - which should see them through 3 installments of kids. and the fabric is now with the tailor who should be finishing them next week.
AND the men are back, at least until their trial on april 22. so the carpenter is back and can continue the benches, the masoners have returned to the job onsite and i think sunday we´ll be able to paint inside and out so that the muralist can start the artwork next week.
a big thank you again to everyone who has donated! it´s really coming together!
sandra and i are going to visit the abuko nature reserve tomorrow - something i´ve been meaning to do since i got here because gambia is known for their birds, and apart from HEARING them in the morning, i´ve hardly seen them in their best light. apparently there are monkeys and crocodiles too. what fun!
more next week when i get into town! happy friday!
Monday, April 7, 2008
frustrations and exploitations
i think perhaps i may have reached the pinnacle of frustration with the gambia over the weekend, though am reportedly in much better spirits on this fine monday in brikama. it started on saturday when my bank put a hold on my ATM card (my lifeline here as i have no other means of getting cash). this shouldn't have been a huge deal - i have a number for the bank to call collect to rectify this - but the problem came when i tried to dial out. firstly, i discovered that you cannot make collect calls from a cell phone, but rather must find a landline/telecenter at which to make the call. so i found one and my conversation with the operator went like this.
me: i'd like to make a collect call please
operater on 100: i can't help you.
me: excuse me?
operator 100: we don't do that, try calling 144.
me: ok
operator 144: try dialing 0001 then your number
me: thank you
(i try this, it doesn't work)
me to operator 144: hello, remember me (of course he does, there's only one operator in all of the gambia), that didn't work, what shall i do now?
operator 144: try the international operator, 100
me: i've called her, she said to call you.
operator 144: try again
me to operator 100: hello, i'm trying to make a collect call
operator 100: we don't do collect calls from the gambia, it's not possible.
me: WHAT???
operator 100: yes.
me: (trying to stay calm) what do you mean you don't do collect calls.
operator 100: we don't do collect calls.
me: (trying to keep the exasperation out of my voice, politely:) what would you do if you were me, trying to make a collect call? would you simply give up?
operator 100: yes. we used to have an international operator on 100, but you're actually talking to the operator at 151. the calls just forward to us. we can't help you.
and on and on for a few more calls, going in circles and getting no where quickly. so in the end, jason called and conferenced me into a call with my bank via skype. i like to think it takes a lot to get me upset, and i really honestly don't get upset very often - but inefficiency makes my blood boil sometimes. when i expect it, like i have pretty much my entire experience in the gambia, i don't mind it at all. i can roll with it, chalk it up to culture, and enjoy the ride. but when i don't expect it - or when something should and could (in my humble opinion) be done so much better - it makes me angry and i can get very snippy. thankfully, i hung up with the gambian operators before she suffered anymore of my wrath.
saturday night was also one of exasperated frustration, but in a much different sense. sandra and i were taken to a 'show' at the senegambia hotel. senegambia is the bit of the gambia that most tourists see if they are here on a packaged holiday. in fact, they might see nothing else if they don't venture out from the strip filled with restaurants, boutiques, dance clubs, bars and even a faux amusement park. it's disgusting, if you ask me, and i'm glad i've not bothered spending any time in the area. i'd call it the disney-fied part of gambia, but even disney would do it better. the streets are full of toubabs - primarily british toubabs. and for fear of being disrespectful to my british friends - i will not describe them in detail, but leave that to your understanding of the traveling kind.
anyhow, her friend is a dancer in the senegambia hotel's nightly performance, though he wasn't dancing on saturday. we thought we were going to see some real african dancing, and he was going to get us in for free, so we went along. little did we know it was to be a lip-synching contest with the cast of gambians miming along to tom jones, whitney houston, tina turner, abba, right said fred and other abysmal eurotrash pop music. we laughed at first - but less a laugh of enjoyment and more a laugh of 'are you SERIOUS, are they for REAL, are we REALLY seeing this? and are these people around us REALLY enjoying this?' but sadly, they did seem to be lapping it up, cheering and jeering for the acts and voting by applause. by the third or fourth song (of eleven) we were ready to go, but as this was the livelihood of the friend of sandra's (at 1500 dalasi/month), we didn't want to appear rude or disrespectful. so we sat through 'what's love got to do with it' and 'dancing queen' and watched the humiliating (or so I thought) acts that only continued to get worse.
the performers didn't really know the words to the songs, either smiling bigger or avoiding eye contact with the audience altogether to cover up their embarrassment, which only served to make the show feel more like a grade school talent show than an entertaining saturday night on the town. they did manage two or three numbers with african music and dance, but even those seemed contrived and trivialized in a this-is-what-you-tourists-think-africa-must-be-like so-we'll-give-you-what-you-want sort of way. in the end, the crowd clapped louder for the man with a fake willy in his trousers gyrating to 'sexbomb' than they did for the reenactment of a tribal healing with a medicine man bringing a woman back to life.
in the end, it just made me sad. sad that that the performers thought this is the kind of show the hotel guests would want, sad that it appeared it WAS the kind of show the guests wanted, sad that there didn't seem to be an end to that vicious circle, that the show will go on, seven nights/week, while there are tourists who continue to fill the seats. this is NOT tourism - but for many of those families, it would be their gambian experience. i wanted to stand up and shout at them that this is NOT the gambia. (i didn't because i didn't want to involuntarily volunteer myself to be a judge in their pathetic contest).
i'm trying hard to be my own devil's advocate to the part of me that is disgusted by these things, telling myself 'to each his own' ... maybe the chubby little white girl with cornrow braids and tie-dyed moo moo who got pulled to the center stage by the dread-locked gambian dancing queen during the finale was having the TIME of her life - maybe this would be her 15 minutes of fame that she'd remember fondly forever. maybe the post-menopausal woman canoodling in the back with the gorgeous young gambian boy with abs of steel really IS in love with him, and he with her. (this phenomenon, another blog post ENTIRELY). i'm really trying hard to abstain from judgement here and let each have and enjoy her own. afterall, doesn't everyone deserve that?
but i just can't help seeing these through glasses tinted with sadness, desperation, frustration at the exploitation and hopelessness. it's hard to articulate adequately, and sandra and i have spent hours mulling over these feelings trying to find a way to describe this symbiotic relationship that exists between toubabs and africans. but for me, it's a relationship that is tinged with sadness, no matter which point of view you're looking at it from. perhaps by the time i leave, i'll be able to express it much more eloquently. give me one more weekend in fajara ...
and speaking of, there probably WILL only be one more weekend in fajara - i've only got three weekends left in the gambia. hard to believe i've only three weeks and four days. i'd like to tell you i'm not counting ... but the count down has now begun. i think it started after i got two hours of sleep on saturday having been kept up by a late afternoon nescafe and three buzzing mosquitos in the room where i slept. and was fueled after my computer crashed for a fourth time in the internet cafe on sunday morning. i'm sure you won't find it hard to believe i am looking forward to getting back to convenience and efficiency. but i can handle three more weeks - and like i said, today is much better than yesterday after a good 10 hours of sleep last night!
i learned that in mandinka, the word for 'today' is 'be'. and i'm trying to remember this as i find myself anxiously awaiting my departure here. today, i will just be.
sala malekum!
me: i'd like to make a collect call please
operater on 100: i can't help you.
me: excuse me?
operator 100: we don't do that, try calling 144.
me: ok
operator 144: try dialing 0001 then your number
me: thank you
(i try this, it doesn't work)
me to operator 144: hello, remember me (of course he does, there's only one operator in all of the gambia), that didn't work, what shall i do now?
operator 144: try the international operator, 100
me: i've called her, she said to call you.
operator 144: try again
me to operator 100: hello, i'm trying to make a collect call
operator 100: we don't do collect calls from the gambia, it's not possible.
me: WHAT???
operator 100: yes.
me: (trying to stay calm) what do you mean you don't do collect calls.
operator 100: we don't do collect calls.
me: (trying to keep the exasperation out of my voice, politely:) what would you do if you were me, trying to make a collect call? would you simply give up?
operator 100: yes. we used to have an international operator on 100, but you're actually talking to the operator at 151. the calls just forward to us. we can't help you.
and on and on for a few more calls, going in circles and getting no where quickly. so in the end, jason called and conferenced me into a call with my bank via skype. i like to think it takes a lot to get me upset, and i really honestly don't get upset very often - but inefficiency makes my blood boil sometimes. when i expect it, like i have pretty much my entire experience in the gambia, i don't mind it at all. i can roll with it, chalk it up to culture, and enjoy the ride. but when i don't expect it - or when something should and could (in my humble opinion) be done so much better - it makes me angry and i can get very snippy. thankfully, i hung up with the gambian operators before she suffered anymore of my wrath.
saturday night was also one of exasperated frustration, but in a much different sense. sandra and i were taken to a 'show' at the senegambia hotel. senegambia is the bit of the gambia that most tourists see if they are here on a packaged holiday. in fact, they might see nothing else if they don't venture out from the strip filled with restaurants, boutiques, dance clubs, bars and even a faux amusement park. it's disgusting, if you ask me, and i'm glad i've not bothered spending any time in the area. i'd call it the disney-fied part of gambia, but even disney would do it better. the streets are full of toubabs - primarily british toubabs. and for fear of being disrespectful to my british friends - i will not describe them in detail, but leave that to your understanding of the traveling kind.
anyhow, her friend is a dancer in the senegambia hotel's nightly performance, though he wasn't dancing on saturday. we thought we were going to see some real african dancing, and he was going to get us in for free, so we went along. little did we know it was to be a lip-synching contest with the cast of gambians miming along to tom jones, whitney houston, tina turner, abba, right said fred and other abysmal eurotrash pop music. we laughed at first - but less a laugh of enjoyment and more a laugh of 'are you SERIOUS, are they for REAL, are we REALLY seeing this? and are these people around us REALLY enjoying this?' but sadly, they did seem to be lapping it up, cheering and jeering for the acts and voting by applause. by the third or fourth song (of eleven) we were ready to go, but as this was the livelihood of the friend of sandra's (at 1500 dalasi/month), we didn't want to appear rude or disrespectful. so we sat through 'what's love got to do with it' and 'dancing queen' and watched the humiliating (or so I thought) acts that only continued to get worse.
the performers didn't really know the words to the songs, either smiling bigger or avoiding eye contact with the audience altogether to cover up their embarrassment, which only served to make the show feel more like a grade school talent show than an entertaining saturday night on the town. they did manage two or three numbers with african music and dance, but even those seemed contrived and trivialized in a this-is-what-you-tourists-think-africa-must-be-like so-we'll-give-you-what-you-want sort of way. in the end, the crowd clapped louder for the man with a fake willy in his trousers gyrating to 'sexbomb' than they did for the reenactment of a tribal healing with a medicine man bringing a woman back to life.
in the end, it just made me sad. sad that that the performers thought this is the kind of show the hotel guests would want, sad that it appeared it WAS the kind of show the guests wanted, sad that there didn't seem to be an end to that vicious circle, that the show will go on, seven nights/week, while there are tourists who continue to fill the seats. this is NOT tourism - but for many of those families, it would be their gambian experience. i wanted to stand up and shout at them that this is NOT the gambia. (i didn't because i didn't want to involuntarily volunteer myself to be a judge in their pathetic contest).
i'm trying hard to be my own devil's advocate to the part of me that is disgusted by these things, telling myself 'to each his own' ... maybe the chubby little white girl with cornrow braids and tie-dyed moo moo who got pulled to the center stage by the dread-locked gambian dancing queen during the finale was having the TIME of her life - maybe this would be her 15 minutes of fame that she'd remember fondly forever. maybe the post-menopausal woman canoodling in the back with the gorgeous young gambian boy with abs of steel really IS in love with him, and he with her. (this phenomenon, another blog post ENTIRELY). i'm really trying hard to abstain from judgement here and let each have and enjoy her own. afterall, doesn't everyone deserve that?
but i just can't help seeing these through glasses tinted with sadness, desperation, frustration at the exploitation and hopelessness. it's hard to articulate adequately, and sandra and i have spent hours mulling over these feelings trying to find a way to describe this symbiotic relationship that exists between toubabs and africans. but for me, it's a relationship that is tinged with sadness, no matter which point of view you're looking at it from. perhaps by the time i leave, i'll be able to express it much more eloquently. give me one more weekend in fajara ...
and speaking of, there probably WILL only be one more weekend in fajara - i've only got three weekends left in the gambia. hard to believe i've only three weeks and four days. i'd like to tell you i'm not counting ... but the count down has now begun. i think it started after i got two hours of sleep on saturday having been kept up by a late afternoon nescafe and three buzzing mosquitos in the room where i slept. and was fueled after my computer crashed for a fourth time in the internet cafe on sunday morning. i'm sure you won't find it hard to believe i am looking forward to getting back to convenience and efficiency. but i can handle three more weeks - and like i said, today is much better than yesterday after a good 10 hours of sleep last night!
i learned that in mandinka, the word for 'today' is 'be'. and i'm trying to remember this as i find myself anxiously awaiting my departure here. today, i will just be.
sala malekum!
Friday, April 4, 2008
ode to the bush taxi
i've been meaning to write this ode for awhile now, in gratitude for my experience of and IN the gellah gellahs of the gambia. i'm thankful i learned to use these straightaway without relying on normal taxis. (using regular tourist taxis might be akin to living in london and only using the tube for transport, never figuring out the routes of the red doubledeckers). but i'm growing rather fond of the gellah gellah, and in actual fact, it's cheap and (mostly) reliable - if you're patient.
i was in a gellah gellah last week from makumbaya to lamin and counted no less than 30 people in a van made to hold twelve comfortably. i kid you not. there are no gaps in the rows of seats. where gaps should be, benches have been creatively crafted or oil cannisters used as makeshift seats - all in the name of a few more dalasi. if it is the stop of someone in the back corner, wedged between the Imam and a young mother with child, everyone must pile out so that he can crawl out of the van.
despite the fact that gellah gellahs do not run frequently (in fact, they run when they are full and when the drivers have finished their attaya under the shade of the baobab trees)- their system, when they do run, is clever. each van has a driver and an 'apprentice.' it is the drivers job to drive (and occasionally flip the cassette if he has one) and the apprentice's job to collect the fares from the passengers while the van is in motion. it is also his job - and it is always a HE, usually a teenage boy - to hange out the side window and shout the final destination of the vehicle to potential passengers standing on the side of the road. (imagine if they did that in the paris metro, wouldn't life be easier?) 'breeeekama, breeeeekama,' the young boy shouts as he points his two fingers to the left. this is another indication of the final destination for to point to the right would indicate another route altogether. he'll fill as many seats as he can so that even he - on a good ride - will not have a seat and will hover over the unlucky passengers closest to the door.
and the doors sometimes slide on the rails, as side doors of vans usually do - but other times, hinges and bolted locks fastened to keep the doors in place, so that the door awkwardly opens in a way toyota never intended - in these instances, there is usually a rope to connect the door to the van, lest it fall off completely while in motion. this happened to a friend of mine. they'll do whatever they need to do to keep the door on so that the van can run and the driver and apprentice can earn their living for the day.
gellah gellah's are an extension of the personality of the driver. the gellah gellah i take from makumbaya to brikama, for example, has a garish garland of fake orange and red flowers, with green and red christmas baubles hanging between the visors; a topless 'he-man' like action figurine wearing jeans and a bad mullet stuck to the dashboard; a mirror on a stand between his legs so the driver can see the passengers in the rear (though i think he has it pointed at himself most of the time - he is rather good looking and i think he knows it); a single faded windchime hangs from the rear view mirror twirling in the wind along with a small child's red shoe (who's is it? i don't know); and two large stickers on the back windows of Madonna blowing kisses in her 'desperately seeking susan' era circa 1983.
if you're lucky, the driver has a cassette player and good taste in music so the ride has a friendly beat in the background. the seats are ripped and torn, with foam splaying out, sometimes duct-taped, sometimes missing altogether. they certainly haven't been washed since they arrived in the gambia, around the same time as madonnna and her bandanas.
there generally isn't much politics in the seating, though the front seats are always coveted, and usually the first to be taken. if you've got to wait a long while in the taxi garage, the seats in the sun are usually the last to be taken, and passengers will get out of the van to let you pass to the sun before scooting into the sun themselves. and so long as they are not in the sun, window seats are usually nicer, for the purchasing power granted to those lucky enough to afford 'window shopping.'
and if you have 'luggage' with you - for a few dalasi more, the driver and apprentice will throw that on top of the van and cart that home for you too. so if, say, you've got a bag of rice, or a bucket of cooking oil, or even a live goat you just picked up at the livestock market, no problem. a gellah gellah can get that home. perhaps the equivalent of a yellow cab on 5th avenue after a big splurge.
when you're ready to get out, you simply hollar at the driver or apprentice - who bangs the side of the door with a coin to alert the driver - and you pile out. no need to wait for an official bus stop or taxi garage. so while it's not frequent, it IS convenient (assuming your destination isn't then a 4 km walk under the blazing sun).
so apart from having to wait - and even that time offers the opportunity for conversations, coconuts and catch up - the gellah gellah is by far one of the greatest things i've discovered in the gambia. and that concludes my ode.
i was in a gellah gellah last week from makumbaya to lamin and counted no less than 30 people in a van made to hold twelve comfortably. i kid you not. there are no gaps in the rows of seats. where gaps should be, benches have been creatively crafted or oil cannisters used as makeshift seats - all in the name of a few more dalasi. if it is the stop of someone in the back corner, wedged between the Imam and a young mother with child, everyone must pile out so that he can crawl out of the van.
despite the fact that gellah gellahs do not run frequently (in fact, they run when they are full and when the drivers have finished their attaya under the shade of the baobab trees)- their system, when they do run, is clever. each van has a driver and an 'apprentice.' it is the drivers job to drive (and occasionally flip the cassette if he has one) and the apprentice's job to collect the fares from the passengers while the van is in motion. it is also his job - and it is always a HE, usually a teenage boy - to hange out the side window and shout the final destination of the vehicle to potential passengers standing on the side of the road. (imagine if they did that in the paris metro, wouldn't life be easier?) 'breeeekama, breeeeekama,' the young boy shouts as he points his two fingers to the left. this is another indication of the final destination for to point to the right would indicate another route altogether. he'll fill as many seats as he can so that even he - on a good ride - will not have a seat and will hover over the unlucky passengers closest to the door.
and the doors sometimes slide on the rails, as side doors of vans usually do - but other times, hinges and bolted locks fastened to keep the doors in place, so that the door awkwardly opens in a way toyota never intended - in these instances, there is usually a rope to connect the door to the van, lest it fall off completely while in motion. this happened to a friend of mine. they'll do whatever they need to do to keep the door on so that the van can run and the driver and apprentice can earn their living for the day.
gellah gellah's are an extension of the personality of the driver. the gellah gellah i take from makumbaya to brikama, for example, has a garish garland of fake orange and red flowers, with green and red christmas baubles hanging between the visors; a topless 'he-man' like action figurine wearing jeans and a bad mullet stuck to the dashboard; a mirror on a stand between his legs so the driver can see the passengers in the rear (though i think he has it pointed at himself most of the time - he is rather good looking and i think he knows it); a single faded windchime hangs from the rear view mirror twirling in the wind along with a small child's red shoe (who's is it? i don't know); and two large stickers on the back windows of Madonna blowing kisses in her 'desperately seeking susan' era circa 1983.
if you're lucky, the driver has a cassette player and good taste in music so the ride has a friendly beat in the background. the seats are ripped and torn, with foam splaying out, sometimes duct-taped, sometimes missing altogether. they certainly haven't been washed since they arrived in the gambia, around the same time as madonnna and her bandanas.
there generally isn't much politics in the seating, though the front seats are always coveted, and usually the first to be taken. if you've got to wait a long while in the taxi garage, the seats in the sun are usually the last to be taken, and passengers will get out of the van to let you pass to the sun before scooting into the sun themselves. and so long as they are not in the sun, window seats are usually nicer, for the purchasing power granted to those lucky enough to afford 'window shopping.'
and if you have 'luggage' with you - for a few dalasi more, the driver and apprentice will throw that on top of the van and cart that home for you too. so if, say, you've got a bag of rice, or a bucket of cooking oil, or even a live goat you just picked up at the livestock market, no problem. a gellah gellah can get that home. perhaps the equivalent of a yellow cab on 5th avenue after a big splurge.
when you're ready to get out, you simply hollar at the driver or apprentice - who bangs the side of the door with a coin to alert the driver - and you pile out. no need to wait for an official bus stop or taxi garage. so while it's not frequent, it IS convenient (assuming your destination isn't then a 4 km walk under the blazing sun).
so apart from having to wait - and even that time offers the opportunity for conversations, coconuts and catch up - the gellah gellah is by far one of the greatest things i've discovered in the gambia. and that concludes my ode.
april fools - the nursery is ON!
i'm happy to report this week that we've found another masoner and painter - so the nursery project is in full swing and he is plastering away as i type this! thankfully, he works quickly and i honestly think that i'll have the plastering and painting (inside and out) finished by next friday! this is all very exciting as it means that i'll be able to commission the artist to get to work the week after next, which means i WILL be able to see the finished (or nearly finished) project. there will be a few more things that they'll have to finish without me - the toilet, some stabilization of the roof, etc - but they can do that over the summer. we're still sans carpenter, which means the benches and tables won't be finished, but there's not an urgent rush on them since the school won't officially open until september. and let's hope the men are back to the village before then. it's still quiet in makumbaya. no news of their return, although i've heard rumors of monday.
in other non-nursery related news (feels like it's been awhile!)
- who knew cashews grew on trees and produced such a colorful fruit? (ok, well, you probably did, but i didn't!) a fruit that is at once as sweet as it is sour and leaves your mouth and teeth feeling as though you've just eaten an entire bag of cooked spinach - instantly dry and plaque free. what IS that called? i can see now why cashews are so expensive - the laborious process of removing the nut from the fruit, roasting it, and then shelling it. they are in season now, so we've been enjoying those at the compound.
- alhagi, ebrima's brother asked me if i would please find him a white man's woman. but in fact, his wife, kaddy, had already made that request a day before. when i asked her why she would want him to have another wife and whether she would be jealous, she laughed. of course she would not be jealous ... she wants another wife to take care of him if she is ever out, so that she might be able to get a job (she ran out of money and couldn't finish her course in computers), so that she has someone with whom to share the responsibilities of african life. in fact, i had the same conversation, weeks back, with jainaba, who told me having another wife made her life easier, someone to share the washing, cooking, sweeping and childcare. and of course, the long hot afternoons. but when i ask jainaba whether she might be allowed two husbands, whether ousman (her husband) would mind, she shrieks with laughter and shouts 'nnoooooooooo' as if i'd just asked her whether donkeys might fly. he would be jealous, she tells me, and leaves it at that. not picking up on the inherent hypocrisy of the system. but it works for them, or so it appears.
- i counted 78 mangos in view on the tree outside my room. i picked one a few days ago, just to see if it might ripen, but sadly, after 4 days, it was still hard as a rock. it's just not QUITE the season yet. though that does not stop the ladies and children from eating them. jainaba 2 (ebrima's wife) boils them up with water, butter and sugar and makes a delicious soup, and the kids will eat them raw, dipping them in salt and spicy pepper to cover the pungent sour taste. ebrima says that in rainy season, they have SO many mangos that they get sick of them, and you never want to see another one. imagine!
- i've had two nice testaments to how comfortable my 'sistahs' here on the compound feel around me. the first was last night when jainaba 2 and i were sitting on the bench alone, waiting for dinner, and she was just singing along with the radio's prayer-song in her small voice. she also talks to me in english when it's just the two of us. otherwise, she defers to the others and makes out that she doesn't understand, but i know she knows more than she lets on. the second came from koja who said to me the other night (in fula, translated by jainaba) 'meagan, when jason was here, you looked so beautiful, now you look ugly.' which i thought was rather insightful and was actually surprised that it had taken her 8 weeks to notice my lack of effort in appearance on most days.
- despite the fact that i don't understand the conversations the women have during the day - particularly now that jainaba the english speaker is away visiting her mother - i think i am getting more of an idea of the kind of humor they have, and the silly things they talk about. usually making fun of each other, or other people, or laughing at the children, pretending to scold. yesterday, we were all sitting around and kaddy pointed out that there was a horrible smell in the vicinity, likely from the cat that died earlier in the week and which ebrima had thrown in the field, though clearly not far enough away. i did the old sniff-my-arm-and-ask-is-it-me?-joke and that threw them into fits of hysterics. they'd clearly not heard that one on the playground.
- today i have exactly four weeks left here. tomorrow i will be able to say 3 weeks, 6 days, which is practically 3 weeks, which is nearly 2 weeks and then may 2 is just around the corner. i am on the outward (not really downward) slope. yesterday i had a lovely afternoon just sitting outside my door, reading and journaling and asking myself whether i have done everything i wanted to do while i was here. because four weeks is still enough time to do something if i've not. but in fact, i think i have. i am quite content with the passing of time here.
i know that i am nearly finished because i have finally picked up 'one hundred years of solitude,' by gabriel garcia marquez. this is a book i have been trying to read for YEARS. i'm sure we all have books like that. for me it's been the kind of book that sits on your shelf, and for which you are very glad it sits on your shelf because it makes you feel like an educated, cultured person, but which you hope no one ever asks you about because you'll just have to say 'yes, yes, i've been MEANING to get to that one.' for some reason, i've left this book till the end (well, OK, not the end, 'atlas shrugged' is next, but HA if i can get through THAT here!) - it's as if the book is some kind of penance. like, 'OK, you've read the FUN books meagan, now it's time for marquez.' - but in fact, i'm really enjoying it. and i've got all day tomorrow set aside under the palapas at the beach to get through it! i've really discovered reading again since i've been here, and i'm so grateful!
- i'm up in fajara again for the weekend - i've managed to catch a small bug again this week (bug as in cold, not as in worms, thank god!) - and i realized that save a day in brikama last week, i've not left the village since jason left two weeks ago. that's my longest stretch in makumbaya and i think my immune system needs a night of pizza and beer. far far away from children with runny noses and white rice. so that's what i've come to do. i can taste it already!
in other non-nursery related news (feels like it's been awhile!)
- who knew cashews grew on trees and produced such a colorful fruit? (ok, well, you probably did, but i didn't!) a fruit that is at once as sweet as it is sour and leaves your mouth and teeth feeling as though you've just eaten an entire bag of cooked spinach - instantly dry and plaque free. what IS that called? i can see now why cashews are so expensive - the laborious process of removing the nut from the fruit, roasting it, and then shelling it. they are in season now, so we've been enjoying those at the compound.
- alhagi, ebrima's brother asked me if i would please find him a white man's woman. but in fact, his wife, kaddy, had already made that request a day before. when i asked her why she would want him to have another wife and whether she would be jealous, she laughed. of course she would not be jealous ... she wants another wife to take care of him if she is ever out, so that she might be able to get a job (she ran out of money and couldn't finish her course in computers), so that she has someone with whom to share the responsibilities of african life. in fact, i had the same conversation, weeks back, with jainaba, who told me having another wife made her life easier, someone to share the washing, cooking, sweeping and childcare. and of course, the long hot afternoons. but when i ask jainaba whether she might be allowed two husbands, whether ousman (her husband) would mind, she shrieks with laughter and shouts 'nnoooooooooo' as if i'd just asked her whether donkeys might fly. he would be jealous, she tells me, and leaves it at that. not picking up on the inherent hypocrisy of the system. but it works for them, or so it appears.
- i counted 78 mangos in view on the tree outside my room. i picked one a few days ago, just to see if it might ripen, but sadly, after 4 days, it was still hard as a rock. it's just not QUITE the season yet. though that does not stop the ladies and children from eating them. jainaba 2 (ebrima's wife) boils them up with water, butter and sugar and makes a delicious soup, and the kids will eat them raw, dipping them in salt and spicy pepper to cover the pungent sour taste. ebrima says that in rainy season, they have SO many mangos that they get sick of them, and you never want to see another one. imagine!
- i've had two nice testaments to how comfortable my 'sistahs' here on the compound feel around me. the first was last night when jainaba 2 and i were sitting on the bench alone, waiting for dinner, and she was just singing along with the radio's prayer-song in her small voice. she also talks to me in english when it's just the two of us. otherwise, she defers to the others and makes out that she doesn't understand, but i know she knows more than she lets on. the second came from koja who said to me the other night (in fula, translated by jainaba) 'meagan, when jason was here, you looked so beautiful, now you look ugly.' which i thought was rather insightful and was actually surprised that it had taken her 8 weeks to notice my lack of effort in appearance on most days.
- despite the fact that i don't understand the conversations the women have during the day - particularly now that jainaba the english speaker is away visiting her mother - i think i am getting more of an idea of the kind of humor they have, and the silly things they talk about. usually making fun of each other, or other people, or laughing at the children, pretending to scold. yesterday, we were all sitting around and kaddy pointed out that there was a horrible smell in the vicinity, likely from the cat that died earlier in the week and which ebrima had thrown in the field, though clearly not far enough away. i did the old sniff-my-arm-and-ask-is-it-me?-joke and that threw them into fits of hysterics. they'd clearly not heard that one on the playground.
- today i have exactly four weeks left here. tomorrow i will be able to say 3 weeks, 6 days, which is practically 3 weeks, which is nearly 2 weeks and then may 2 is just around the corner. i am on the outward (not really downward) slope. yesterday i had a lovely afternoon just sitting outside my door, reading and journaling and asking myself whether i have done everything i wanted to do while i was here. because four weeks is still enough time to do something if i've not. but in fact, i think i have. i am quite content with the passing of time here.
i know that i am nearly finished because i have finally picked up 'one hundred years of solitude,' by gabriel garcia marquez. this is a book i have been trying to read for YEARS. i'm sure we all have books like that. for me it's been the kind of book that sits on your shelf, and for which you are very glad it sits on your shelf because it makes you feel like an educated, cultured person, but which you hope no one ever asks you about because you'll just have to say 'yes, yes, i've been MEANING to get to that one.' for some reason, i've left this book till the end (well, OK, not the end, 'atlas shrugged' is next, but HA if i can get through THAT here!) - it's as if the book is some kind of penance. like, 'OK, you've read the FUN books meagan, now it's time for marquez.' - but in fact, i'm really enjoying it. and i've got all day tomorrow set aside under the palapas at the beach to get through it! i've really discovered reading again since i've been here, and i'm so grateful!
- i'm up in fajara again for the weekend - i've managed to catch a small bug again this week (bug as in cold, not as in worms, thank god!) - and i realized that save a day in brikama last week, i've not left the village since jason left two weeks ago. that's my longest stretch in makumbaya and i think my immune system needs a night of pizza and beer. far far away from children with runny noses and white rice. so that's what i've come to do. i can taste it already!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)