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!
Friday, April 11, 2008
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!
Monday, March 31, 2008
yes, i am in africa
every time i think i´m settling in here ... when the smell of dried fish doesn´t tickle my nose as i pass the market, the sounds of animated shouting in the streets doesn´t make my heart race, or cockroaches tittering over my feet in my favorite cafe doesn´t make my skin crawl ... something happens that reminds me i´m in an entirely different world over here.
the nursery project is stalled for the time being because there has been a ´problem´ - as ebrima called it - between makumbaya and a neighboring village. without going into too much detail, some land was taken from makumbaya villagers and unlawfully sold - and the villagers want their land back. the case has been in the courts for three years to no avail and on sunday, i guess the villagers decided enough was enough and took things into their own hands. so ... unfortunately there are no men in the village and no one is quite sure when they are coming back. which means, there are no masoners, no carpenters and no painters on hand to get back to the job. the men are now back to the court today - though unlikely on the best of terms or on terms that might help their case - but from what i can make out, they weren´t getting ANY attention on this case - and you know the old cliche about publicity.
anyhow, i could give more detail here to make it all sound much more dramatic, but the truth is - it might have been dramatic in a neighboring village, but we didn´t see anything in makumbaya. all was pretty tame yesterday, if quiet. and i slept a good part of the day because i´d been up the night before at the village dance ´programme´ - where the local youth club hired a band and the young people (mostly under 40) came out to dance and drink soda. it was brilliant to see the everyone out in their finest and for the first time, i felt properly welcomed by the women as they invited sandra and me up to dance with them. they are always friendly, but cautiously so, eying me curiously or so it feels sometimes. but on saturday, they were all about the dance!
so needless to say, there was no nursery work on sunday, and perhaps not this sunday either. i am working with ebrima - who thankfully was NOT involved in the kerfuffle - to see if we might be able to hire some workers from nearby villages to get the work done. in my grand plan, i could probably have afforded one sunday off, but not sure about two or three now.
i find myself somewhat frustrated with the men for choosing NOW to sort this out. but then i realize - rather selfishly - that while this nursery project is the primary focus of MY experience here, i am but a small speck of dust in their village life and while i would love to be able to show you a finished product, to send back a picture of me in front of this completed nursery, with uniformed school children surrounding the turquoise walls, and their happy parents behind them ... it may not turn out that way.
so i take a deep breath, relinquish the old expectations, and begin again. it will happen. there is another volunteer arriving on wednesday who can pick up where i leave off, and mondo will continue to send volunteers to makumbaya - so it WILL get finished, those children WILL get to school in september. and in the end, it´s about the children anyway. so that they will grow up to be responsible adults, so that they won´t have to fight, or if they do, they´ll know better ways to deal with disputes. and not with violence.
i´m in brikama today to haggle with the fabric sellers to see if i can get it down to 30 dalasi/meter for the gingham print. the tailor we want to use is from another village, so at least i can get on with the uniforms. i was tempted not to write this post so as not to disappoint anyone who donated to the cause ... but i´m not worried, it´ll happen! so thank you again for all the support! i am truly blessed, as will they be when we get the damn thing finished! and WE WILL!
the nursery project is stalled for the time being because there has been a ´problem´ - as ebrima called it - between makumbaya and a neighboring village. without going into too much detail, some land was taken from makumbaya villagers and unlawfully sold - and the villagers want their land back. the case has been in the courts for three years to no avail and on sunday, i guess the villagers decided enough was enough and took things into their own hands. so ... unfortunately there are no men in the village and no one is quite sure when they are coming back. which means, there are no masoners, no carpenters and no painters on hand to get back to the job. the men are now back to the court today - though unlikely on the best of terms or on terms that might help their case - but from what i can make out, they weren´t getting ANY attention on this case - and you know the old cliche about publicity.
anyhow, i could give more detail here to make it all sound much more dramatic, but the truth is - it might have been dramatic in a neighboring village, but we didn´t see anything in makumbaya. all was pretty tame yesterday, if quiet. and i slept a good part of the day because i´d been up the night before at the village dance ´programme´ - where the local youth club hired a band and the young people (mostly under 40) came out to dance and drink soda. it was brilliant to see the everyone out in their finest and for the first time, i felt properly welcomed by the women as they invited sandra and me up to dance with them. they are always friendly, but cautiously so, eying me curiously or so it feels sometimes. but on saturday, they were all about the dance!
so needless to say, there was no nursery work on sunday, and perhaps not this sunday either. i am working with ebrima - who thankfully was NOT involved in the kerfuffle - to see if we might be able to hire some workers from nearby villages to get the work done. in my grand plan, i could probably have afforded one sunday off, but not sure about two or three now.
i find myself somewhat frustrated with the men for choosing NOW to sort this out. but then i realize - rather selfishly - that while this nursery project is the primary focus of MY experience here, i am but a small speck of dust in their village life and while i would love to be able to show you a finished product, to send back a picture of me in front of this completed nursery, with uniformed school children surrounding the turquoise walls, and their happy parents behind them ... it may not turn out that way.
so i take a deep breath, relinquish the old expectations, and begin again. it will happen. there is another volunteer arriving on wednesday who can pick up where i leave off, and mondo will continue to send volunteers to makumbaya - so it WILL get finished, those children WILL get to school in september. and in the end, it´s about the children anyway. so that they will grow up to be responsible adults, so that they won´t have to fight, or if they do, they´ll know better ways to deal with disputes. and not with violence.
i´m in brikama today to haggle with the fabric sellers to see if i can get it down to 30 dalasi/meter for the gingham print. the tailor we want to use is from another village, so at least i can get on with the uniforms. i was tempted not to write this post so as not to disappoint anyone who donated to the cause ... but i´m not worried, it´ll happen! so thank you again for all the support! i am truly blessed, as will they be when we get the damn thing finished! and WE WILL!
Friday, March 28, 2008
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
A BARAKA - a Mandinka Thank You!
i just have a few minutes in brikama before i pick up the wood for the tables and the benches - but i wanted to send out a huge thank you from across the world! i have now EXCEEDED my goal of $2000 which means i have even more money than i thought i would have for this nursery project! never fear - as you´ll have gathered from all previous blogs and photos - there are plenty of things to spend money on in this village - it will not go to waste! in fact, already it has meant that i bought higher quality timber for the construction of the benches so they´ll last for YEARS, it means i can look into sponsoring scholarships for early childhood development education classes at the local college for the three teachers who are otherwise voluntary, it means i can buy a surplus of uniforms for future kids, AND it means more sponsorship money for the little ones (and aren´t they cute?? - i hope you can see why i´ve fallen in love with little fatou sarr). so thank you from the bottom of my heart for digging deep and helping me with this project! (don´t let me stop those who still want to give, it´s not too late!)
also - not being very familiar with paypal, i only JUST realized that some of you sent individual notes with your donations. and because the internet is particularly slow today - i am frustrated to say i cannot read them, but i will do! so apologies for not responding to anyone individually! i intend to get a final blog/email/thank you out once i have returned and can flesh out the project so you know exactly where your money went. i´m afraid i´m somewhat limited without excel here!
and a big THANK YOU to my guest blogger - and for all the pictures! i´m happy to share those with you so you can add some visuals to my posts! (though have to add the caveat that i never wear braids in my hair like i was in a few of the pics - that was a disgusting one off - never fear).
OK - my ride is calling me, i must dash ... not sure when i´m next back to the internet cafe, maybe the weekend, maybe monday. thank you again to everyone!
oh - but one funny story - yesterday, as the ladies, children and i were settling down on the mats under the mango trees for lunch, two donkeys came charging through the back garden and directly towards us at full speed. we had to scramble to get out of the way of their stamped lest we be trampled to death by the pair of asses. i was later told it was the male chasing the female for a bit of action. at least this time it wasn´t keeping me awake! if i didn´t hate them before ...
au revoir!
also - not being very familiar with paypal, i only JUST realized that some of you sent individual notes with your donations. and because the internet is particularly slow today - i am frustrated to say i cannot read them, but i will do! so apologies for not responding to anyone individually! i intend to get a final blog/email/thank you out once i have returned and can flesh out the project so you know exactly where your money went. i´m afraid i´m somewhat limited without excel here!
and a big THANK YOU to my guest blogger - and for all the pictures! i´m happy to share those with you so you can add some visuals to my posts! (though have to add the caveat that i never wear braids in my hair like i was in a few of the pics - that was a disgusting one off - never fear).
OK - my ride is calling me, i must dash ... not sure when i´m next back to the internet cafe, maybe the weekend, maybe monday. thank you again to everyone!
oh - but one funny story - yesterday, as the ladies, children and i were settling down on the mats under the mango trees for lunch, two donkeys came charging through the back garden and directly towards us at full speed. we had to scramble to get out of the way of their stamped lest we be trampled to death by the pair of asses. i was later told it was the male chasing the female for a bit of action. at least this time it wasn´t keeping me awake! if i didn´t hate them before ...
au revoir!
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