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!