swearing-in ceremony

Hey all,

So yesterday, I became a Peace Corps volunteer for real! All 25 of us made it! We had a very nice swearing-in ceremony, held at the US Ambassador's residence (in a lovely location, right on the beach). Lots of speaches, blahty-blah, we took the oath of office, and sang a song all in Wolof. Here are some pics of me and the crew.

If you'll notice, we're all matchy-matchy in our clothing. its common for groups or clubs to go out and choose fabric together, and then wear it for special occasions. this is called asobi. All the heath volunteers are dressed in the brown and tan fabric with the sort of organic pattern. All the agro-forestry volunteers are in the blue geometric one. then you just take the fabric to a tailor, and have whatever you want made. i've got a fitted skirt and top and matching head-wrap (I can;t tie it well, so i didn;t wear it), the whole outfit is called a completo. i like the african style clothing enough, but i super love the fabrics, so i think i'm going to have lots of american style clothing made from them.

then later, we had a big barbecue with the other PCV's, then went out for karaoke.

this morning they took us all shopping for house stuff. its been a bit of a ridiculous day, and i'm zonked. i do finally have a bed and a gas stove, as well as some pots and pans. it was just a hassle being a bunch of americans all together in an open air market with everyone bustling around, trying to buy stuff and bargain enough not to get ripped off.

tomorrow morning, they are driving us all to our various sites, and dumping us off. this next portion is called Three Month Challenge, and we are asked to stay in our villages for the next three months without leaving for a significant amount of time. As in, day trips, but no overnight. We need to be working on our integration, language, and relationships with the village. I'm excited, but honest enough to know that i'm going to cry when they drive away. Time for some serious alone time.

I'm sure I'll be online sometime in the next couple of weeks, but probably not before then. Anyhoo, love you all!


Oh, and a few letters wouldn't hurt. I love the snail mail. I've been writing, but if for some reason I missed you, and you want a letter, send one! My address is at the top of this blog page!

a smattering of pics since I've been here

Hey kids,

This is just a few of the pics I've taken since I've come, no real unifying theme other than that. Most are from training village, I wasn;t comfortable getting my camera out at my new place yet, because I don;t know people well, and I don;t want to flash the bling. also, my house has no furniture, so I promise to take pictures once its all set.



This first one here is my first pic off the plane. its the airport. duh.




This next one is from,like, our third day. we went to the beach. i mean, thats what Peace Corps is all the time. ;-P




this is me and one of my other host sisters on Tobaski.







This is a view of the Gambia River, taken from the village of Tendaba at dusk






This is our training class, on our way to village, like one week in. There are 25 of us, and i'm proud to say that no one has quit yet. I hear thats not common.
the captions got all messed up, and i don;t have time to fix it today. you can all figure out what is what!


and now, i'm going to learn harvest honey! look out bees!


whitney

Holy Crap

Hey folks,

thanks for waiting. How are you? How am I? A big old box of crazy, thats how I am. Training is nearly done. I'm out of training village, I've visited my permanent site for a few days, and now I'm in Fajara, right outside the capital for a few more classes, swearing in ceremony, and some household shopping. So, I wrote the previous updates on my laptop, then saved them to post today, which is good, because then I could actually write coherently. I had gotten used to village, and now that I'm back in the urban area, I'm entirely overstimulated. Big bag of crazy. I don't even know what to do with this internet. and western-style food.

I'm just going to sign off. here is a picture of me and a goat. maybe more pictures later.

Permanent site, Kombo District

Well, I've moved to my permanent site. For safety reasons, we;re encouraged not to write the name of our community in our blogs, but if you want to shoot me an email, I can tell you right where I am. It is indeed in Kombo district, but that covers a lot of the south bank, coastal region.

Anyhoo, my host family is very different from the one I was staying with in Bumari. For one, it is much smaller—my host father, just one host mother, their five children aged 14, 12, 7, 4, and 11 mos., and my host father's younger brother. They all seem very nice and I think that my host mother and I will be friends. The the four-year-old is a hoot. I'm pretty sure that he would be diagnosed with some sort of hyperactivity disorder if he were in the states, he's always moving. He runs around the yard stacking all the chairs, then re-stacking them somewhere else, he runs around with a bucket on his head, and he just runs circles around me. We play until I'm tired and then I just watch him run. He's my BFF. The eleven-month-old is very healthy, he's getting ready to walk, but in the meantime is just standing up, doing a bunch of fast knee-bends, then sitting back down on his huge behind.
The compound itself is much bigger, and they use the space to grow cassava and oranges. Both my parents work, my father as a police officer, and my mother as a cleaner, and all the kids go to school, so originally I was shocked at how quiet things were. In training, there were always lots of people around, and lots of animals roaming willy-nilly, and here thats not the case. I think in the long run, I'll be glad for the peace and quiet in the mornings.
My house itself is great! Its has two rooms, both get lots of sunlight. My back yard/latrine area is very spacious and sunny. There is an orange tree back there that is giving fruit! I'm anxious to get a garden going back there. One of the former volunteers who stayed here wired the house for solar electricity, so thats a blessing. Also, the food is a lot better here, I'm very happy about that.

As of yet, I have not done a lot of exploring. I don't know what it is that I'll be working on, we don;t get a direct assignment as such. I'm encouraged to use the next 3-6 months for making relationships and assessing the needs as well as the strengths of the community ONLY, and not start any major projects. Without a thorough understanding of the community, and without their involvement, any project that I begin would be doomed to fail. I think at times, this will be difficult. I get antsy to get started, but also sitting and talking to people in another language for hours is exhausting, so whether it seems like it or not, it is hard work. There are a few schools in the area, an NGO that one that PC country director is super excited about, a hospital, and a women's group. I'm just going to hang out for next few months and explore what these groups are doing, and seeing in what ways I can be of use.
And now for my own small tangent. The longer I am here, the more I wish I were an education volunteer. Health is great and all, and very important, but I get really incensed about the rate of illeracy, and it just makes me angry at the British style schooling that these kids get which emphasizes rote memorization in place of actual learning and application of knowledge. An example: I would be sitting around outside my old host fam's, studying my notebook, and one of my host sisters would come to me and start reciting what she “knew.” It went like this “A-N-T! Ant! B-O-Y! Boy! C-A-N! Can! D-O-G! Dog!” but if you put anything in front of her, she couldn't read it. I was irritated both because I was trying to study, and also because she didn't actually know anything about what she was saying, but because she could parrot all that out, no one might question her ability. My new host sisters(ages 14 and 12) were doing exercises in a Mandinka school workbook, and were having trouble matching vocab words to pictures. They would get stuck and have me read words to them. They kept saying how well I knew Mandinka for only being here two months. They are both fluent speakers, its not that I know the language well, its that I know how to read, and the rules for pronunciation.
I guess after writing all that, I do realize that this happens in the US as well. Kids get passed grade to grade, even if they have not mastered the material. There are plenty of kids who can't read. It pisses me off just as much in the states as it does here. But still, I'd like to work with the schools here, or work with teachers to become more effective, I'm just not sure if I'm “allowed” because its outside my sector. We'll see. Maybe it will be a side project.

Anyhoo, tomorrow I'm back to the capital for one last language test, some few classes, our swearing in ceremony, and shopping for household goods (this concrete floor is not soft for sleeping on), then I;m back here for the next number of months. I love you all very much!

While we were in training village, the Muslim celebration of Tobaski happened, I think it was around December 9. Tobaski celebrates when God commanded Abraham to sacrifice his son Ishmael, and Abraham showed great faith and agreed. God rewarded Abraham’s faith by replacing Ishmael with a ram for sacrifice. To celebrate this miracle, every family slaughters a ram(or a goat if they can’t afford it).
On the first day of Tobaski, my family did indeed slaughter a sheep. I missed the slaughter itself because I was in the kitchen house watching my host moms cook. I did see it a few minutes after death though, after they had the carcass all opened up. I wasn’t nearly as repulsed as I would have thought. We had a big big lunch, then spent the afternoon just hanging out and relaxing. The women sat around doing each other’s hair. In the late afternoon/early evening, everyone got all dressed up in their best clothes. I had no idea that people had clothes this nice!! Everyone’s cloth was very brightly colored, either printed or tie-dyed, and had been waxed and then beaten with a stick so that it shines and is stiff. Often the cloth has also been embroidered. The women’s outfits are a long, slim, wrap skirt, with a matching top and head wrap. The men’s outfit is a baggy shirt made of the colorful fabric with baggy pants underneath. The children wear clothes that are perfect miniatures of what the adults are wearing. Women also go all out with high heels, make-up, etc. Then, all the women and children go place to place asking for “salibo” which are small gifts--money, candy, etc. it’s a lot like trick or treating.
The second and third day of Tobaski was a lot like the first day, minus the sheep killing. Still with the lots of food, and getting dressed up. It amazes me that everyone wears a different set of fabulous clothes each evening. Where do they come from? I was most certainly underdressed.
For special prayer days like Tobaski, everyone’s extended family comes to the village from the urban areas. This was overwhelming because I had just gotten used to all the faces and personalities of those who are always in my village. All the extended family was a little much.

Overall, a good experience though. Tobaski gets a thumbs up.

Conversatin’

As I mentioned before, in The Gambia, greeting is very very important. If you come to someone, and don’t greet them first, then try to start a conversation, there is a good chance that that person will not help you, or will outright ignore you. I’m pretty good at the Mandinka greetings at this point, and they go as follows, in any order, but always with the same response.

Peace be with you.
-And also with you

How are your home people?
-They are there.

I hope there is no trouble there.
-No, no trouble.

Are you in peace?
-Peace only.

How is the morning/afternoon/evening/night?
-It is here only.

How is your mother/father/wife/husband?
-They are there.

How are the children?
-They are there.



Once you get through all that, then the roles reverse and the other person gets a chance to ask the questions…..then from there a large part of the conversation starters involve stating the obvious. I think that because in the US people do not state the obvious, that I had a very hard time understanding what people were saying to me. I would hear them, but not understand at all because what they had said was right in front of me. Some examples are
“Faatu, you came!” (true fact, I just walked in)
“Faatu, you are sitting!” (true fact, here I am on the mat)
“Faatu, you are water fetching!” (good chat. There is a bucket on my head, and I‘m trying not to slosh)

Or, to start a conversation, usually we just ask what the other person is doing, even if it is perfectly obvious. I was really proud of myself when someone asked me what I was doing today while sitting idly in front of a fire, and I was able to reply “I am fire watching.”

I realize that this entry may make it sound like I think Gambians are stupid. They’re not. Its just an aspect of conversation that we don’t have in the US, and I find it endearing. Also, I just recently found that I had enough language understanding to be able to participate. Since so much of the day is spent sitting around chatting here, you have to start somewhere, and so why not begin with “You are sitting!”

Hello All!! Thanks for waiting! This is my first update since going to training village, and as it happens, its all done! I’m trained! Eek, in a few days, I’ll be sworn in, and then I’m a Peace Corps Volunteer, for reals.

Anyhoo, village was good. The trainees were split up into smaller groups, and each group was sent to a different village for language and cultural immersion, and formal language and technical classes. It was nice to have the other trainees to lean on as we got a taste of what we would be doing at our various sites.

Our first week the village held a naming ceremony for the trainees, in the same way that they would for a newborn baby. The morning of the ceremony, our families dressed us up in traditional clothes, for me that was a very nice wrap skirt and matching shirt, and a head scarf. Then, everyone met in the middle of the village, the elders prayed for the group. Then, one by one, we were called up and the alkalo (village leader) pretended to shave our heads(if it were a baby, they would be actually shaved), then announced our name to the group. My name is Fatoumata, which is a Mandinka version of Fatima, who is the prophet Mohammed’s daughter. Its tradition to name every first daughter Fatoumata, and so obviously there are lots of them(the traditional first son‘s name is Lamin). The name is shortened often to Fatou, or F-O, or F-La, or a variety of others. My host father’s last name is Samateh, so I am Fatou Samateh. I will probably change my last name to the last name of my host family at site, although women don’t change their last name when they marry, so maybe that would be confusing.

My host family was very nice. It was confusing at first, because it was so big, and because of language difficulties, it took me a long time to figure out who was who. My host father’s name was Bama Samateh, and he has three wives. One was his, and two were inherited when his brother died. All together with his three wives, he had 18 children. Some still live on the compound, others are other places. The youngest child was about 6 or 7 years old….I’m not sure how old the oldest child was. There were multiple women who are my age, and they all have children, and so I wondered if they were wives as well. Nope, they are my sisters. When a woman gets married, she does not go to live with her husband right away, even if they have children, so that is why they live on their father’s compound still. My sisters were very nice, and always good about including me in things. All in all there were lots of children anywhere, and they could either be really helpful and fun to be with, or really really in my business and a little irritating.

My hut is pretty sweet. I hope my hut at site is about the same. Its made from mud and corrugated metal. There are two rooms, each with one window. The front room has a table with my water filter, and I also keep my bike there. The back room has my bed and suitcases, etc. Out back from my house is a fenced enclosure surrounding my pit latrine and a concrete slab where I take bucket baths. There is also a lime tree out there(I really hope I get one of those at my permanent site!). Pit latrines…..not as bad I expected, actually they seem pretty normal at this point, and I have yet to pee on myself as I had originally dreaded. Also, bucket baths are more pleasant then I expected. Taking a bucket bath under the massive sky full of stars is downright awesome. One might think that living in a village would be quiet and relaxing. As it happens, its pretty loud. Between the mine having some battle royale in my ceiling and on my floor, the donkeys, sheep, goats, roosters, and crickets outside, the babies, radios, and people aeound, its actually ridiculously loud at night. Also prayer call. 5 am. On the daily. Despite these setbacks, I’ve not slept this well in a long time. I fall asleep around 9:30 and am crashed out until 7.

Ummm…..what else to talk about….food is all right, kind of hit or miss, either deliciously wonderful, or really hard to choke down. Nearly every meal is some sort of cooked meat--either fish or chicken--in sauce, served over rice, often (though not always) with potatoes, or egg plant, or bitter tomatoes. The sauce is spicy and made from ground peanuts. Fish isn’t really my thing….but it will have to be, because we eat it a lot. And if there is no fish, then people add fish powder for protein, and that’s not my thing either. It kind of tastes the way an aquarium smells. The chicken is good. When I read about Gambian food before coming, I read that I would eat coos, and I thought that it would be like coos-coos, which I have had at home. This was a mistake. Coos is ground millet, and looks and tastes a lot like sand. Same texture, same color. This was very difficult at first, coos was my first dinner in village, but after a while, I really have come to like it. If you put sugar and milk on it, it’s a lot like cereal. Street food is pretty good. I like to buy egg sandwiches and bean sandwiches when we’re in a larger town. All the bread is like French baguettes, sliced down the middle, with eggs, beans, or fish balls as filling (and often spaghetti). I’m looking forward to mango season. And cashew season

Food is served in a communal bowl, and everyone eats using only their right hands. This was cause for frustration when I began, because you may only use your right hand (the left is for the restroom), and I had a hard time getting food into my mouth. You are meant to make small balls out of rice and meat, then put the ball into your mouth. Much of my first few meals ended up in my lap or on the floor, but now I must say I’m pretty good at it.

I’m not sure what else to talk about here, and I recognize that this has been a very long entry. In the future I will try to break entries up into more manageable chunks. I’m open to specific questions, if anyone has them. Thanks for reading! Love to you all!!