Hey homies.
So I’m still here, that’s pretty neat, right? Actually my whole training group is still here, we’ve been at site almost 6 weeks.
Anyhow, I’ve been busy chatting and meeting folks, scoping out possibilities for my Health and Community Development energies. Here are some leads and ideas I’ve got.
There is a local high school that has some stuff going on that I would like to get my hands into. There is a Heath Issues Peer Educators’ club that I’m told used to be very active, but has been suffering low attendance and as a result very low activity. I would like to revitalize it and maybe use it as a spring-board for other health related info-sharing. This high school is currently building a building to house a community computer lab. The idea is that community members could pay a small fee to come use the computers without disturbing the rest of campus, thereby gaining computer skills etc. That’s all well and good, but I think it could be better. For example, there are plenty of internet cafés in the nearby big town (an easy walk or a cheap taxi ride away), and any time I am in one of them they are filled with adolescent and young adult males using the computers to look at pictures of European women or in chat rooms chatting with people who claim to be European women. I’m always the only woman there. In my opinion, the young men in my neighborhood don’t need yet another way in which to slack off, even if the lab brings money into the school. Need a break to rest from sitting under the tree drinking tea? Want to come to the internet lab to try to talk women into bringing you to Europe? I don’t think I have quite a good enough relationship yet with the headmaster to offer this type of criticism, but I’m working on finding a way. Seriously, if they could even offer classes for women only, like once a week, on how to use a computer and the internet, then the café would be more then just another boys‘ hang out, but I have no idea if there is interest in such a thing. More research is necessary.
There is an elementary school nearby who is having sanitation issues. They have only 2 pit latrines for their 900+ students, and that’s just not sanitary. The headmaster is urgently trying to find money to make new ones, but in my opinion he’s not going about it quite right. He’s kind of a bristly guy, so I don’t want to drive him away by sounding critical, I really am trying to be helpful, but he’s not open to it. He’s applying to the US Embassy for funds to build new latrines, but when I mentioned that he would be much much more likely to get the funds if the community were willing to offer a portion of the cost, or would be willing to do the labor or such, he said that the community was not usually willing to come out, and even so they would probably mess it up. When I asked if the school has a PTA club, or a Mother’s Club or such, he said they had both, but that they met on an “as-needed” basis (sounds like a euphemism for “defunct” if you ask me), and wouldn’t be willing to help. Hmm. There’s got to be a way to get people involved, there just has to be. So I think its an important issue, clean and plentiful toilets, and I’d like to work on it, but we seem to disagree on the best methods(quite frankly at first when I said that I don‘t come with money, he didn’t really see the point in me being here), so we’ll see what happens with that.
My neighborhood is surrounded my mango trees. Quite literally, as far as the eye can see. That’s awesome. Unfortunately, a big problem is the lack of food preservation habits. All the mangos come into fruit at once, and then everyone has tons and tons, no one can sell them because everyone has them, and try as they may you just can’t eat them all. The reality is that many mangos rot on the ground. THIS IS A TRAGEDY. I LIKE MANGOS. More importantly, the mid to late summer time is called “Hungry Season” because that’s when the dry season food is usually running out, and the rainy season crops have not yet matured. So, if we could just instill preservation habits, that could help, right? PC gives us all the plans for making solar dryers for drying food, and I’d really like to get people excited about it. The usual reasons that this doesn’t catch on is that it’s a foreign idea for one which requires behavior change, and it does require a little bit of investment to buy materials etc. I’m hoping to just lead by example a little bit, building a box, drying food for myself and talking about it, letting people taste it, then hopefully I can pick up some interest.
Like I said, I met with my mother’s kafoo, and have been doing so every week. From what I can tell, its mainly a social club, and they do a lot of resource sharing (the kafoo owns a bunch of really big pots and pans for anyone to use if their family has a wedding or naming ceremony), but they don’t do any sort of group work or anything. I would love to get them interested in mango drying, they could eat them or sell them. Or at the very least maybe they’d be open to health talks or such. I need to work on my language though, so I don’t sound like such a four-year-old.
Yup. Domanding, a domanding. Slowly slowly. It’s the Gambian way.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Hello loving friends and family, and the occasional reader who may have stumbled upon this blog while they were looking for something else.
Several of you have sent emails asking me what you can send to the people that I am working with. First of all, let me thank you for your kindness and generosity. You are all caring people and I can see that you want to help. Thank you.
Secondly, let me say that it’s a complicated issue, and its not one I’m completely comfortable with. Let me explain.
Westerners are forever coming to The Gambia and giving things. Giving wells, giving schools. Giving money. Giving minties and pens (see entry “One Bob, Toubab, Three Bob, Four”). And just generally giving things away. While this is very generous, it has served in creating some very debilitating attitudes. In short, it encourages a culture of begging. It encourages people here to doubt their own abilities, and to doubt the value of things that are available here.
For example, I have medical supplies given to me by Peace Corps for my own medical needs. I do not, nor will I, dispense these items to the people that I work with. It is far more helpful for me to encourage people to go to their own medical facility to seek treatment. Medical care is readily available, and very cheap. Its free for pregnant women and children under 5. For everyone else, its cheaper than tea, its cheaper than soap, its cheaper than sugar (US government should get on that by the way, we‘re lagging). Gambians always have money for tea. They can afford to go to the medical center, which is well stocked. If I gave out my medical supplies, people here tend to think that anything from a toubab is better than what is available in their own country, even if its exactly the same. Tylenol is Tylenol. A bandage is a bandage. If I gave mine out, people would use it, come to depend on it and think its better than what is at the clinic, then when I left, they would still not go to the clinic. It is much more useful in the long run to encourage people to use their facilities. Of course, in an emergency I would perform first aid, but then I would accompany that person to the nearest clinic. I assure you Gambians are not lacking in access to medical care.
I’m also doing my best to educate on preventative measures--hand-washing with soap, bed nets, staying hydrated, etc.
On that a similar note….I think people think I’m lying when they come to me with an ailment (either real or feigned, sometimes they come with a fake ailment hoping I’ll give them medicine which they will save for another time), and I tell them how to solve it without medicine. Medicine is over-used here, and often over-prescribed at health facilities. Anything that might resemble malaria is treated as malaria, even if the test results have not come back. Malaria meds are crazy stuff, you can’t just prescribe that stuff willy-nilly. And when people complain about headache, I tell them to drink a glass of water go lie down in the shade. I’m not being stingy, its exactly the same advice that I would give to someone in the States.
As for other gifts, its still sticky. People here are so used to toubabs giving them stuff, whether its stuff that they need or not, that that’s all they associate with toubabs. I don’t want that type of relationship with my community. I want people to want to know me because I’m me, and to be able to gain knowledge from a relationship with me, but if I’m giving things away, then that’s all they focus on. Once you give one thing, then everyone wants it, and they will all ask for it again when the first runs out. Its just not a sustainable way to alleviate poverty, and in my opinion the cultivation of begging habits does far more harm than the donation of physical items does good.
Oops, where did this soap box come from? *hops down*
I didn’t mean to rant. If I do find an appropriate and helpful way to give material items, I will certainly let everyone know, perhaps books to a school or something. Again, I’m touched by people’s generous offers. Also, if you look at Peace Corps website there is a donation button, that leads to different countries, and different projects in each of those countries. Descriptions are there, and you can select and donate to individual projects that you find interesting.
Thanks for reading!
Several of you have sent emails asking me what you can send to the people that I am working with. First of all, let me thank you for your kindness and generosity. You are all caring people and I can see that you want to help. Thank you.
Secondly, let me say that it’s a complicated issue, and its not one I’m completely comfortable with. Let me explain.
Westerners are forever coming to The Gambia and giving things. Giving wells, giving schools. Giving money. Giving minties and pens (see entry “One Bob, Toubab, Three Bob, Four”). And just generally giving things away. While this is very generous, it has served in creating some very debilitating attitudes. In short, it encourages a culture of begging. It encourages people here to doubt their own abilities, and to doubt the value of things that are available here.
For example, I have medical supplies given to me by Peace Corps for my own medical needs. I do not, nor will I, dispense these items to the people that I work with. It is far more helpful for me to encourage people to go to their own medical facility to seek treatment. Medical care is readily available, and very cheap. Its free for pregnant women and children under 5. For everyone else, its cheaper than tea, its cheaper than soap, its cheaper than sugar (US government should get on that by the way, we‘re lagging). Gambians always have money for tea. They can afford to go to the medical center, which is well stocked. If I gave out my medical supplies, people here tend to think that anything from a toubab is better than what is available in their own country, even if its exactly the same. Tylenol is Tylenol. A bandage is a bandage. If I gave mine out, people would use it, come to depend on it and think its better than what is at the clinic, then when I left, they would still not go to the clinic. It is much more useful in the long run to encourage people to use their facilities. Of course, in an emergency I would perform first aid, but then I would accompany that person to the nearest clinic. I assure you Gambians are not lacking in access to medical care.
I’m also doing my best to educate on preventative measures--hand-washing with soap, bed nets, staying hydrated, etc.
On that a similar note….I think people think I’m lying when they come to me with an ailment (either real or feigned, sometimes they come with a fake ailment hoping I’ll give them medicine which they will save for another time), and I tell them how to solve it without medicine. Medicine is over-used here, and often over-prescribed at health facilities. Anything that might resemble malaria is treated as malaria, even if the test results have not come back. Malaria meds are crazy stuff, you can’t just prescribe that stuff willy-nilly. And when people complain about headache, I tell them to drink a glass of water go lie down in the shade. I’m not being stingy, its exactly the same advice that I would give to someone in the States.
As for other gifts, its still sticky. People here are so used to toubabs giving them stuff, whether its stuff that they need or not, that that’s all they associate with toubabs. I don’t want that type of relationship with my community. I want people to want to know me because I’m me, and to be able to gain knowledge from a relationship with me, but if I’m giving things away, then that’s all they focus on. Once you give one thing, then everyone wants it, and they will all ask for it again when the first runs out. Its just not a sustainable way to alleviate poverty, and in my opinion the cultivation of begging habits does far more harm than the donation of physical items does good.
Oops, where did this soap box come from? *hops down*
I didn’t mean to rant. If I do find an appropriate and helpful way to give material items, I will certainly let everyone know, perhaps books to a school or something. Again, I’m touched by people’s generous offers. Also, if you look at Peace Corps website there is a donation button, that leads to different countries, and different projects in each of those countries. Descriptions are there, and you can select and donate to individual projects that you find interesting.
Thanks for reading!
Hello loving friends and family, and the occasional reader who may have stumbled upon this blog while they were looking for something else.
Several of you have sent emails asking me what you can send to the people that I am working with. First of all, let me thank you for your kindness and generosity. You are all caring people and I can see that you want to help. Thank you.
Secondly, let me say that it’s a complicated issue, and its not one I’m completely comfortable with. Let me explain.
Westerners are forever coming to The Gambia and giving things. Giving wells, giving schools. Giving money. Giving minties and pens (see entry “One Bob, Toubab, Three Bob, Four”). And just generally giving things away. While this is very generous, it has served in creating some very debilitating attitudes. In short, it encourages a culture of begging. It encourages people here to doubt their own abilities, and to doubt the value of things that are available here.
For example, I have medical supplies given to me by Peace Corps for my own medical needs. I do not, nor will I, dispense these items to the people that I work with. It is far more helpful for me to encourage people to go to their own medical facility to seek treatment. Medical care is readily available, and very cheap. Its free for pregnant women and children under 5. For everyone else, its cheaper than tea, its cheaper than soap, its cheaper than sugar (US government should get on that by the way, we‘re lagging). Gambians always have money for tea. They can afford to go to the medical center, which is well stocked. If I gave out my medical supplies, people here tend to think that anything from a toubab is better than what is available in their own country, even if its exactly the same. Tylenol is Tylenol. A bandage is a bandage. If I gave mine out, people would use it, come to depend on it and think its better than what is at the clinic, then when I left, they would still not go to the clinic. It is much more useful in the long run to encourage people to use their facilities. Of course, in an emergency I would perform first aid, but then I would accompany that person to the nearest clinic. The people in my area are not lacking in access to medical care.
I’m also doing my best to educate on preventative measures--hand-washing with soap, bed nets, staying hydrated, etc.
On that a similar note….I think people think I’m lying when they come to me with an ailment (either real or feigned, sometimes they come with a fake ailment hoping I’ll give them medicine which they will save for another time), and I tell them how to solve it without medicine. Medicine is over-used here, and often over-prescribed at health facilities. Anything that might resemble malaria is treated as malaria, even if the test results have not come back. Malaria meds are crazy stuff, you can’t just prescribe that stuff willy-nilly. And when people complain about headache, I tell them to drink a glass of water go lie down in the shade. I’m not being stingy, its exactly the same advice that I would give to someone in the States.
As for other gifts, its still sticky. People here are so used to toubabs giving them stuff, whether its stuff that they need or not, that that’s all they associate with toubabs. I don’t want that type of relationship with my community. I want people to want to know me because I’m me, and to be able to gain knowledge from a relationship with me, but if I’m giving things away, then that’s all they focus on. Once you give one thing, then everyone wants it, and they will all ask for it again when the first runs out. Its just not a sustainable way to alleviate poverty, and in my opinion the cultivation of begging habits does far more harm than the donation of physical items does good.
Oops, where did this soap box come from? *hops down*
I didn’t mean to rant. If I do find an appropriate and helpful way to give material items, I will certainly let everyone know, perhaps books to a school or something. Again, I’m touched by people’s generous offers. Also, if you look at Peace Corps website there is a donation button, that leads to different countries, and different projects in each of those countries. Descriptions are there, and you can select and donate to individual projects that you find interesting.
Thanks for reading!
Several of you have sent emails asking me what you can send to the people that I am working with. First of all, let me thank you for your kindness and generosity. You are all caring people and I can see that you want to help. Thank you.
Secondly, let me say that it’s a complicated issue, and its not one I’m completely comfortable with. Let me explain.
Westerners are forever coming to The Gambia and giving things. Giving wells, giving schools. Giving money. Giving minties and pens (see entry “One Bob, Toubab, Three Bob, Four”). And just generally giving things away. While this is very generous, it has served in creating some very debilitating attitudes. In short, it encourages a culture of begging. It encourages people here to doubt their own abilities, and to doubt the value of things that are available here.
For example, I have medical supplies given to me by Peace Corps for my own medical needs. I do not, nor will I, dispense these items to the people that I work with. It is far more helpful for me to encourage people to go to their own medical facility to seek treatment. Medical care is readily available, and very cheap. Its free for pregnant women and children under 5. For everyone else, its cheaper than tea, its cheaper than soap, its cheaper than sugar (US government should get on that by the way, we‘re lagging). Gambians always have money for tea. They can afford to go to the medical center, which is well stocked. If I gave out my medical supplies, people here tend to think that anything from a toubab is better than what is available in their own country, even if its exactly the same. Tylenol is Tylenol. A bandage is a bandage. If I gave mine out, people would use it, come to depend on it and think its better than what is at the clinic, then when I left, they would still not go to the clinic. It is much more useful in the long run to encourage people to use their facilities. Of course, in an emergency I would perform first aid, but then I would accompany that person to the nearest clinic. The people in my area are not lacking in access to medical care.
I’m also doing my best to educate on preventative measures--hand-washing with soap, bed nets, staying hydrated, etc.
On that a similar note….I think people think I’m lying when they come to me with an ailment (either real or feigned, sometimes they come with a fake ailment hoping I’ll give them medicine which they will save for another time), and I tell them how to solve it without medicine. Medicine is over-used here, and often over-prescribed at health facilities. Anything that might resemble malaria is treated as malaria, even if the test results have not come back. Malaria meds are crazy stuff, you can’t just prescribe that stuff willy-nilly. And when people complain about headache, I tell them to drink a glass of water go lie down in the shade. I’m not being stingy, its exactly the same advice that I would give to someone in the States.
As for other gifts, its still sticky. People here are so used to toubabs giving them stuff, whether its stuff that they need or not, that that’s all they associate with toubabs. I don’t want that type of relationship with my community. I want people to want to know me because I’m me, and to be able to gain knowledge from a relationship with me, but if I’m giving things away, then that’s all they focus on. Once you give one thing, then everyone wants it, and they will all ask for it again when the first runs out. Its just not a sustainable way to alleviate poverty, and in my opinion the cultivation of begging habits does far more harm than the donation of physical items does good.
Oops, where did this soap box come from? *hops down*
I didn’t mean to rant. If I do find an appropriate and helpful way to give material items, I will certainly let everyone know, perhaps books to a school or something. Again, I’m touched by people’s generous offers. Also, if you look at Peace Corps website there is a donation button, that leads to different countries, and different projects in each of those countries. Descriptions are there, and you can select and donate to individual projects that you find interesting.
Thanks for reading!
A few Anxieties, a few Celebrations
Well, I’ve been at site about three weeks(as of the writing of this article), and mostly, things are going swimmingly. There are a few things that stress me out from time to time, or just causes me to think. Overall, I think that it will all work out.
Sometimes I do just think that who I am, and the way I normally behave is very different from some Gambian cultural norms. But I’m not Gambian. I’m American, and a fairly independent one at that, and so I have had some worries about fitting into the communality of the culture here.
For example, what do I like to do on a Sunday afternoon in the States? Sit in my room by myself and read a book (yes, I’ve been told. I’m lame). But if I sit alone in my house, I get the feeling that people think I’m weird, or anti-social. Also, its hard going from being independent at home, to having a family here. I’m 25! I don’t have to tell you where I’m going! (although, really. Its safer if I DO tell someone where I’m going. God forbid if something happened, someone should know where I last was. Also, when people ask where you’re going, its just normal shooting-the-breeze conversation. Sometimes I say I’m going to the moon.)
Also I feel really really guilty every time I cook for myself. The rent I pay covers all meals with my family(and to be honest, I think my rent covers more than half of what it costs to feed all 9 of us for a month), although I always cook my own breakfast. But sometimes I don’t want to eat what has been cooked, like today when there was beef skin on the menu, and wanted to cook for myself instead. I can’t hide that I’m cooking, my gas burner sounds like a freaking jet engine, and my pots sound off like a gong every time I set them down. Sometimes I’m open to sharing, but by the time you let 8 or more people try something, there isn’t usually very much left, and that gets expensive, not to mention I’m not sure they would like much of what I would make. I know there will be a time when I will cook a whole meal for my family, just for fun, but not every time, you know?
So yeah, its my desire for alone time and independence, and the worry that I will ostracize myself that stresses me out. But not having the alone time is just as stressful. They have a saying here, “No matter how long the tree is in the river, it will never be a crocodile.” well. I’m a tree. And I’m used to being a tree. I’ll never be a crocodile. And I feel bad about it from time to time.
Some things that have gone well….
Every other night or so I go for a walk around the neighborhood and greet people. All the kids from around like to follow me. That’s right, my best friends are all between the ages 3-7, and I think that’s fine. It’s a nice routine, I walk out our door and my 4-year-old brother yells down the block “Hey! Faatu is going for a walk!” then the kids all come running and we hold hands and go. The other day though, I stopped and chatted with some ladies, and had the normal conversation, where they exclaim that I can speak Mandinka! And then they laugh at some of my pronunciations, and then ask if I’m married, and how many children I have, or want, and why not ten? We were just laughing together and it was fun. Then I lifted a baby up and my binbin showed and they all laughed hard! Like, laughing with me and not at me. It was fun.
Today, me and my small child army had a dance party, and they laughed as I tried to dance in the Mandinka style. They all have so much more rhythm than me.
And today I got it in my head that I wanted to make banana bread for my host fam, but lacking an oven, I decided to fry it. It turned out sort of like banana donuts, and for the record, banana donuts are delicious. They all liked it.
Oh, and my garden is kicking ass.
that’s all. Love to you
Sometimes I do just think that who I am, and the way I normally behave is very different from some Gambian cultural norms. But I’m not Gambian. I’m American, and a fairly independent one at that, and so I have had some worries about fitting into the communality of the culture here.
For example, what do I like to do on a Sunday afternoon in the States? Sit in my room by myself and read a book (yes, I’ve been told. I’m lame). But if I sit alone in my house, I get the feeling that people think I’m weird, or anti-social. Also, its hard going from being independent at home, to having a family here. I’m 25! I don’t have to tell you where I’m going! (although, really. Its safer if I DO tell someone where I’m going. God forbid if something happened, someone should know where I last was. Also, when people ask where you’re going, its just normal shooting-the-breeze conversation. Sometimes I say I’m going to the moon.)
Also I feel really really guilty every time I cook for myself. The rent I pay covers all meals with my family(and to be honest, I think my rent covers more than half of what it costs to feed all 9 of us for a month), although I always cook my own breakfast. But sometimes I don’t want to eat what has been cooked, like today when there was beef skin on the menu, and wanted to cook for myself instead. I can’t hide that I’m cooking, my gas burner sounds like a freaking jet engine, and my pots sound off like a gong every time I set them down. Sometimes I’m open to sharing, but by the time you let 8 or more people try something, there isn’t usually very much left, and that gets expensive, not to mention I’m not sure they would like much of what I would make. I know there will be a time when I will cook a whole meal for my family, just for fun, but not every time, you know?
So yeah, its my desire for alone time and independence, and the worry that I will ostracize myself that stresses me out. But not having the alone time is just as stressful. They have a saying here, “No matter how long the tree is in the river, it will never be a crocodile.” well. I’m a tree. And I’m used to being a tree. I’ll never be a crocodile. And I feel bad about it from time to time.
Some things that have gone well….
Every other night or so I go for a walk around the neighborhood and greet people. All the kids from around like to follow me. That’s right, my best friends are all between the ages 3-7, and I think that’s fine. It’s a nice routine, I walk out our door and my 4-year-old brother yells down the block “Hey! Faatu is going for a walk!” then the kids all come running and we hold hands and go. The other day though, I stopped and chatted with some ladies, and had the normal conversation, where they exclaim that I can speak Mandinka! And then they laugh at some of my pronunciations, and then ask if I’m married, and how many children I have, or want, and why not ten? We were just laughing together and it was fun. Then I lifted a baby up and my binbin showed and they all laughed hard! Like, laughing with me and not at me. It was fun.
Today, me and my small child army had a dance party, and they laughed as I tried to dance in the Mandinka style. They all have so much more rhythm than me.
And today I got it in my head that I wanted to make banana bread for my host fam, but lacking an oven, I decided to fry it. It turned out sort of like banana donuts, and for the record, banana donuts are delicious. They all liked it.
Oh, and my garden is kicking ass.
that’s all. Love to you
Bunny and My Mother's Ass
So today was kind of a crazy day! Let me explain…
So this morning I went out to the communal gardens in our town to try and chat with the women there, even if just to get names and try to start friendships. I chatted for awhile, and then as I was leaving, a boy who was mending the fence called me over, held out his hand, and asked me if I liked rabbits (the words “like” and “want” are the same word in Mandinka), and I hesitatingly that I did. He had a baby bunny in his hand, and told me to take it home. I asked him where its mother went, and he said that she ran off. He again said that I should carry the rabbit home, I asked why and he said that I should wait until it got big, and then I should eat it. He kept insisting that I should take it, and so in the end I did.
Now, I didn’t want a pet. I had recently decided that getting one would just be too much stress, and would be difficult to leave here at the end of my service, and difficult to take home, and would just make traveling within the country difficult, so I just wasn’t going to get one. Moreover, I’m not going to eat this bunny. But I wouldn’t have faulted someone ELSE for eating it. Really now, I understand why no one wants rabbits in their garden, and I can’t fault someone for eating something edible, and if they had taken this bunny home, raised it, stewed it, and told me about it later, that would have been fine. But there is no way that I can eat it. Ever.
So I got this little bunny home, and this guy is tiny. He reminds me of a lemon, because he is the same size and shape when he is curled up sleeping. You know? A Sunkist lemon that is all uniform in size, shape, and color at the grocery store? That’s the size and shape of my bunny, from his wiggle bunny nose to his bunny tail. I put him in a box with some cabbage and some sorrel, but he wouldn’t eat it. I think he’s too small. I tried to feed him some milk from a spoon, but he wasn’t having that either. I searched the market for a medicine dropper, but found none. In the end, I searched my PC supplied med kit, and found an eye-wash solution that comes in a squirt bottle. I emptied that out and have been bottle-feeding this dumb bunny every few hours or so for the last few days(thank you PC). I hope he just grows into eating green stuff, or else how am I going to teach him to be a bunny?
The kids in my neighborhood love him though. Its been a good experience for them, I think. Pets don’t really happen here, and I think its good for them to see that you don’t have to shoo away any animal who comes near. They are good at being gentle at petting him.
So, I brought this bunny home, and had to figure out how to handle him. THEN, I went to a meeting of my mother’s kafoo. A kafoo is a women’s community group. They have different functions, depending on the group. Sometimes they run a business together, sometimes it’s a forum for resource sharing, sometimes they tend a group garden. At the kafoo meeting, there were about 30 women sitting around, all talking at once. Many were yelling, and it would be easy to think that there was a big argument going on, but there wasn’t. It was just a lot of loud talking and joking. I greeted everyone, and just sat and tried to chat, or just listen to see if I could understand snippets of the many conversations.
A woman came up to me and did the standard greetings. Then the conversation was as follows.
Where is your mother?
-she is there (in the course of greetings, the answer to any question “where is…” is “it is there.”)
Where is your mother’s ass?
It is there?
Hmm…where is your ass?
It is here?(then I shook it)
As it turns out, when she asked about my mother’s ass, I should have said “your ass!” and that these are both insults, but she was just joking with me. Actually, there was a lot of “your ass!” shouting going on at this meeting. Also a lot of “yes, my ass. Here it is, look at it.” happening also. These ladies were very funny. I’m not sure if anything actually came of this meeting, it seemed to be a bunch of chatting, but it was fun to sit in on. I’m going to need to develop some sass if I’m going to hang with these ladies.
Time to go feed the bunny. Enjoy the pics.
Love!
************Addendum**********
Sad story. About two and a half weeks after this was written, my bunny died. I don’t even know why. He was all healthy and active, and eating veggies the day before….then yesterday morning he was all cold on the floor. I’m baffled. I didn’t want a pet, I didn’t look for a pet, but once I had one thrust upon me, I realized that I really liked having a sidekick. He kept me from getting lonely.
This sucks.
one Bob, Toubab, Three Bob, Four
Hey homies.
For those not in on the West African lingo, “toubab” is the word, in all languages, used for all foreigners. This article is about my experiences and feelings around being a toubab in West Africa.
Innitially, I was pissed off. I still get irritated from time to time. From my American perspective, it really does seem like rampant racism. People don’t ask my name, they just say “toubab!”. This happens every single time I leave my house. Children, adults, old people. Everyone. I don’t think I can explain fully how this feels, its just something to be experienced. Yes, this is random people on the street, but also people who I am meeting and foresee having a relationship with, and from my American perspective, that’s a real pisser. For real, how dare you refer to me by my race or by an aspect of how I look? Not using my name denies me a personhood. I would never ever, call someone “Hey Black person!” and expect them to turn around. More irritating is when they are talking about me right in front of me, and don’t think that I know what they are saying.
That being said, I’ve been able to come to peace with it, most of the time. Its just not rude here. Racism, as I know it, doesn’t exist. From their perspective, why would I not want to be called toubab, when I so obviously am one? Once I understand that they are not trying to be rude to me, I can handle it (most of the time). I can also say “Mufingo!” which means “black person!” and no one minds, honestly they just smile and wave back. It doesn’t feel quite right and so I don‘t usually do that, but again, racism as I know it doesn’t exist here. In fact, culturally, its polite to greet everyone, and so they are just getting my attention the only way they know how(other ways include hey girl (sunkuto), woman (musoo)hey white woman, hey boss lady, and making a hissing noise at me). When its just a small group of people, or it’s a group of people who I think I will need to have a relationship with, I’ve been fairly successful in explaining in Mandinka “Don’t call me toubab, my name is not toubab. When you see me, say ‘Faatu!’ Say, ‘hows the afternoon?’ Say, ‘hows your family?’ But don’t say toubab because its not nice.” As long as I say that in a nice friendly way, it works. If I’m irritated, and they can sense it, they usually keep up with the toubabs, because its fun to piss someone off, right? ;-)
More irritating, is that what often follows the “hey toubab!” is a request for material goods. Europeans are forever coming to Africa and giving things away. Most commonly, they give candy and pens (Seriously? Pens? Do you think you’re reducing poverty by giving away pens? If you really really can‘t help but give something, give tomatoes or carrots, or something else healthy that you bought here in the market, not pens). And of course, cash. And so the conversation goes like this, in any language.
“Toubab, give me pen. Toubab, give me money. Toubab, give me minties.”
I just get so frustrated when I feel that people think that’s all I’m good for is getting stuff. These habits of begging do a lot of hurt in the long run. It causes people here to wait for a toubab to come along to solve their problems, rather than having faith in their own abilities. Just saying that I don’t have any of whatever they are requesting usually works for the moment, but that doesn’t mean that they won’t ask the next toubab they see, or won’t ask me again tomorrow, for that matter. And why should me saying no deter them from asking, when there are so many toubabs coming over and handing stuff out all the time? I can’t change that expectation all by myself. Sometimes I just laugh and say in Mandinka “No! You give ME money! You give ME minties!” Or “You give me your shirt!” Joking is a big part of the culture, and usually that gets a laugh….
Then there is the issue of being a toubab woman which could fill a blog entry all in itself. Look for a future blog article about Bumsters, and how this relates to being a toubab woman. It’ll be a doozy.
Love to you all.
For those not in on the West African lingo, “toubab” is the word, in all languages, used for all foreigners. This article is about my experiences and feelings around being a toubab in West Africa.
Innitially, I was pissed off. I still get irritated from time to time. From my American perspective, it really does seem like rampant racism. People don’t ask my name, they just say “toubab!”. This happens every single time I leave my house. Children, adults, old people. Everyone. I don’t think I can explain fully how this feels, its just something to be experienced. Yes, this is random people on the street, but also people who I am meeting and foresee having a relationship with, and from my American perspective, that’s a real pisser. For real, how dare you refer to me by my race or by an aspect of how I look? Not using my name denies me a personhood. I would never ever, call someone “Hey Black person!” and expect them to turn around. More irritating is when they are talking about me right in front of me, and don’t think that I know what they are saying.
That being said, I’ve been able to come to peace with it, most of the time. Its just not rude here. Racism, as I know it, doesn’t exist. From their perspective, why would I not want to be called toubab, when I so obviously am one? Once I understand that they are not trying to be rude to me, I can handle it (most of the time). I can also say “Mufingo!” which means “black person!” and no one minds, honestly they just smile and wave back. It doesn’t feel quite right and so I don‘t usually do that, but again, racism as I know it doesn’t exist here. In fact, culturally, its polite to greet everyone, and so they are just getting my attention the only way they know how(other ways include hey girl (sunkuto), woman (musoo)hey white woman, hey boss lady, and making a hissing noise at me). When its just a small group of people, or it’s a group of people who I think I will need to have a relationship with, I’ve been fairly successful in explaining in Mandinka “Don’t call me toubab, my name is not toubab. When you see me, say ‘Faatu!’ Say, ‘hows the afternoon?’ Say, ‘hows your family?’ But don’t say toubab because its not nice.” As long as I say that in a nice friendly way, it works. If I’m irritated, and they can sense it, they usually keep up with the toubabs, because its fun to piss someone off, right? ;-)
More irritating, is that what often follows the “hey toubab!” is a request for material goods. Europeans are forever coming to Africa and giving things away. Most commonly, they give candy and pens (Seriously? Pens? Do you think you’re reducing poverty by giving away pens? If you really really can‘t help but give something, give tomatoes or carrots, or something else healthy that you bought here in the market, not pens). And of course, cash. And so the conversation goes like this, in any language.
“Toubab, give me pen. Toubab, give me money. Toubab, give me minties.”
I just get so frustrated when I feel that people think that’s all I’m good for is getting stuff. These habits of begging do a lot of hurt in the long run. It causes people here to wait for a toubab to come along to solve their problems, rather than having faith in their own abilities. Just saying that I don’t have any of whatever they are requesting usually works for the moment, but that doesn’t mean that they won’t ask the next toubab they see, or won’t ask me again tomorrow, for that matter. And why should me saying no deter them from asking, when there are so many toubabs coming over and handing stuff out all the time? I can’t change that expectation all by myself. Sometimes I just laugh and say in Mandinka “No! You give ME money! You give ME minties!” Or “You give me your shirt!” Joking is a big part of the culture, and usually that gets a laugh….
Then there is the issue of being a toubab woman which could fill a blog entry all in itself. Look for a future blog article about Bumsters, and how this relates to being a toubab woman. It’ll be a doozy.
Love to you all.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Yes, But What Are You Doing?”
I have received just such a question from many people at home, and indeed many Gambians here, and upon my answer have received sighs of disappointment, so I thought I’d expound for a little while on what I’m doing, and what I plan on doing.
First of all, I think now would be a good time to discuss the three goals of Peace Corps, and how they relate to what I’m doing. The first goal is to help interested countries in meeting their needs for trained men and women. This is indeed where we would discuss capacity-building for sustainable development, etc.
The second goal is to promote a better understanding of Americans on the part of the people being served. I’m here, being friendly, talking about my family at home, doing weird Toubab things like putting on sunscreen, offering my point of view during discussions, etc. My hope is that maybe I can make Americans look better as a group, right?
The third goal is to promote a better understanding of other people on the part of all Americans. I’m here, conveying my experiences to all of you, loving readers. I write letters home. I blog. I take pictures. My Peace Corps service will most likely be something I talk about for the rest of my life, think of how many Americans I can educate, even in small bits just by having come?
These three goals have remained simple and unchanged since Peace Corps’ inception in 1961. So yes, while my first goal at heart is to promote community-based, grass-roots, sustainable development, all in all, that’s also the hardest goal, the most complicated, and the one that is slowest in coming. But the other two goals are all about cultural exchange, and to say that I fulfill two out of three goals, pretty much every day, well two out of three ain’t bad.
So what am I doing? I’ve been at my permanent site a week (as of the writing of this entry, who knows when I’ll get to post it). I’ve been greeting the neighbors, taking walks around the neighborhood to get people used to seeing me. I’ve visited a local school in hopes of meeting the headmaster, he never came, but I did chat with teachers for awhile. I’ve carried water on my head. I’ve written letters. I’ve read a book on community needs assessment. I’ve been slowly slowly making my house into a home. I’ve read Great Expectations. I’ve cooked with my host mom. I’ve drunk endless cups of attaya (gunpowder green tea with sugar) while sitting under mango trees. I’ve meditated many hours on my strengths and shortcomings as a human being, and anticipate many hours of the same over the next two years.
One thing I’ve been especially proud of is my compost heap, and soon-to-be garden plot. I figure during all the hurry-up-and-wait of my other work, when all else fails, I’ll be happy to work in my garden. My plan is, even for my own sanity, to nurse a bunch of tree saplings, and plant them around when they get strong, or send them up-country to have other PCVs plant. That way, even if my other projects go all to hell, I can at least say that a few more trees are growing because of me, and that’s fine. No, this is not a sustainable project, I recognize that. Its just for my own sanity.
Really, it is really hard to go from a forty hours per week job with lots of structure, to one with significantly less. And the definition of “work” has certainly changed. But, greeting people is hard. Sitting through conversations in another language is exhausting, even if it was only an hour long. However, the more I work at these things now, the more effective a volunteer I will be. Also, the more time I spend making myself at home and being comfortable here and being comfortable with myself, the more effective a volunteer I will be. If I run around willy-nilly, shovel in hand, speaking with the conversational dexterity of a four-year-old, I will burn out quickly and be ineffective.
So no, I have not saved the world all in one week. I have not built any hospitals or bridges, or dug any wells (by the way, that’s what all the well-meaning foreigners like to do--dig wells. Gambia has plenty of wells, and I wish people would quit throwing money around, it does more harm than good). I haven’t saved any babies.
But I’ve shaken many hands, and said many times over “how is your family?” I’m laying the foundations for a good service, even if it doesn’t fit into what people in the US call work or productivity. Chill out Americans. That’s what I’ve been doing.
First of all, I think now would be a good time to discuss the three goals of Peace Corps, and how they relate to what I’m doing. The first goal is to help interested countries in meeting their needs for trained men and women. This is indeed where we would discuss capacity-building for sustainable development, etc.
The second goal is to promote a better understanding of Americans on the part of the people being served. I’m here, being friendly, talking about my family at home, doing weird Toubab things like putting on sunscreen, offering my point of view during discussions, etc. My hope is that maybe I can make Americans look better as a group, right?
The third goal is to promote a better understanding of other people on the part of all Americans. I’m here, conveying my experiences to all of you, loving readers. I write letters home. I blog. I take pictures. My Peace Corps service will most likely be something I talk about for the rest of my life, think of how many Americans I can educate, even in small bits just by having come?
These three goals have remained simple and unchanged since Peace Corps’ inception in 1961. So yes, while my first goal at heart is to promote community-based, grass-roots, sustainable development, all in all, that’s also the hardest goal, the most complicated, and the one that is slowest in coming. But the other two goals are all about cultural exchange, and to say that I fulfill two out of three goals, pretty much every day, well two out of three ain’t bad.
So what am I doing? I’ve been at my permanent site a week (as of the writing of this entry, who knows when I’ll get to post it). I’ve been greeting the neighbors, taking walks around the neighborhood to get people used to seeing me. I’ve visited a local school in hopes of meeting the headmaster, he never came, but I did chat with teachers for awhile. I’ve carried water on my head. I’ve written letters. I’ve read a book on community needs assessment. I’ve been slowly slowly making my house into a home. I’ve read Great Expectations. I’ve cooked with my host mom. I’ve drunk endless cups of attaya (gunpowder green tea with sugar) while sitting under mango trees. I’ve meditated many hours on my strengths and shortcomings as a human being, and anticipate many hours of the same over the next two years.
One thing I’ve been especially proud of is my compost heap, and soon-to-be garden plot. I figure during all the hurry-up-and-wait of my other work, when all else fails, I’ll be happy to work in my garden. My plan is, even for my own sanity, to nurse a bunch of tree saplings, and plant them around when they get strong, or send them up-country to have other PCVs plant. That way, even if my other projects go all to hell, I can at least say that a few more trees are growing because of me, and that’s fine. No, this is not a sustainable project, I recognize that. Its just for my own sanity.
Really, it is really hard to go from a forty hours per week job with lots of structure, to one with significantly less. And the definition of “work” has certainly changed. But, greeting people is hard. Sitting through conversations in another language is exhausting, even if it was only an hour long. However, the more I work at these things now, the more effective a volunteer I will be. Also, the more time I spend making myself at home and being comfortable here and being comfortable with myself, the more effective a volunteer I will be. If I run around willy-nilly, shovel in hand, speaking with the conversational dexterity of a four-year-old, I will burn out quickly and be ineffective.
So no, I have not saved the world all in one week. I have not built any hospitals or bridges, or dug any wells (by the way, that’s what all the well-meaning foreigners like to do--dig wells. Gambia has plenty of wells, and I wish people would quit throwing money around, it does more harm than good). I haven’t saved any babies.
But I’ve shaken many hands, and said many times over “how is your family?” I’m laying the foundations for a good service, even if it doesn’t fit into what people in the US call work or productivity. Chill out Americans. That’s what I’ve been doing.
Girl Stuff
Gambian women are beautiful. Like really beautiful. I’m continually amazed at their facial structures, their skin tones, their body builds. Gambian women also do lots of things to make themselves more beautiful, and that is the topic of this entry. None of the practices discussed here are universal, there is no “all women in the Gambia do such-and-such” but many are prevalent, some more so than others, and there are slight variations by ethnic group and by region.
Henna! Women in the Gambia use henna to make geometric designs on their feet and hands. The designs are very different than ones I’ve seen done with Indian henna. Here they are more geometric, lots of intersecting straight lines and boxes, not the same as the more organic look that I’ve seen in the Indian tradition. In some ethnic groups, only married women are allowed to henna their feet, in other places everyone does it. Also, in some places, only the left hand is henna-ed (the left hand being the dirty hand, the right hand being the eating and greeting hand), but I;ve seen both done in other places. Tape is used to make patterns, then the feet or hands are smeared with a henna-and-water paste, then tied with plastic bags while the henna dries. When the dried paste and tape are removed, the result is rusty red designs that last a few weeks. Its possible, with the help of some mystery chemical, to turn the designs black, but I’ve been told that done incorrectly, this can result in a nasty burn.
Many women here have their gums tattooed blue, and often the upper and lower lip as well. This is done with a bundle of needles tied together and poked over and over on the woman’s gums, then the wounds are smeared with charred ground nut paste. As its been explained to me, the effect of darkening the gums makes the teeth appear whiter and the woman more beautiful. All the women I’ve talked to had this done voluntarily when they were in their teens.
Facial scarring is also popular. This is a series of three small vertical slashes, about a half inch long, done in a horizontal row, either on the cheek bone right under each eye, or on the temple at the outer edge of each eye. These hashes are made with a razor and then also rubbed with charred ground nut paste. Lots of Peace Corps volunteers in The Gam, both men and women, get this done during their service. I’m considering it (shh, don’t tell my parents), but not on my face. Maybe my feet. And yes I will use a brand spanking new razor directly out of the package.
Binbin! Binbin are strands of beads worn around the waist or hips, and they are a big hush-hush secret. The beads themselves are usually strands of glass seed beads of various colors, sometimes strung with a few wooden beads in between. These wooded beads have been soaked in some perfume or scent, and because the wood is porous, the scent is held for a long time. Also popular right now, if not traditional, are plastic glow-in-the-dark beads. Like I said, these beads are a big hush-hush secret. A women never wants her binbin to show. If they do show, then either its an accident and she is very embarrassed, or she meant to show them and is trying to signal to a man that she wants to sleep with him. Women are very conscious of their binbin, and usually, if you see them, its because she meant for you to see them (I’ve seen this happen, actually. I was walking with a male PCV, and a girl in her mid teens, very intentionally walked ahead of us, and lifted her shirt to show the small of her back, and there were her binbins. She walked ahead of us like that for, like, ten minutes. My friend was very embarrassed). I like binbin. I think they are pretty, and I like the noise that they make when I walk.
A practice worth mentioning, but I will not go into great detail about is the practice female genital mutilation (FGM), which is still alive and well here in The Gambia. Young girls, anywhere from age 7 to their mid-teens, are taken to the woods in groups, taught how to be a proper Gambian woman, taught traditional dances, and have this circumcision done. In The Gambia, the procedure itself is one of the most severe forms of FGM in the world. There are groups active in trying to stop this practice, (the biggest one, Tostan, has had good success in Senegal), but one of the major hindering factors is that people think that it is related to religion (its not in the Koran), which makes it hard for them to give up. Peace Corps volunteers are encouraged not to try and tackle this issue on our own, just because it is so tightly held by the people here, and might serve as a major separating factor between the volunteer and the community, but to work with NGOs or such if the cause is near and dear to our hearts. It’s a complicated issue, drop me an email if you would like to discuss it further.
Awesome, way to end the entry on a high note, Whitney.
Henna! Women in the Gambia use henna to make geometric designs on their feet and hands. The designs are very different than ones I’ve seen done with Indian henna. Here they are more geometric, lots of intersecting straight lines and boxes, not the same as the more organic look that I’ve seen in the Indian tradition. In some ethnic groups, only married women are allowed to henna their feet, in other places everyone does it. Also, in some places, only the left hand is henna-ed (the left hand being the dirty hand, the right hand being the eating and greeting hand), but I;ve seen both done in other places. Tape is used to make patterns, then the feet or hands are smeared with a henna-and-water paste, then tied with plastic bags while the henna dries. When the dried paste and tape are removed, the result is rusty red designs that last a few weeks. Its possible, with the help of some mystery chemical, to turn the designs black, but I’ve been told that done incorrectly, this can result in a nasty burn.
Many women here have their gums tattooed blue, and often the upper and lower lip as well. This is done with a bundle of needles tied together and poked over and over on the woman’s gums, then the wounds are smeared with charred ground nut paste. As its been explained to me, the effect of darkening the gums makes the teeth appear whiter and the woman more beautiful. All the women I’ve talked to had this done voluntarily when they were in their teens.
Facial scarring is also popular. This is a series of three small vertical slashes, about a half inch long, done in a horizontal row, either on the cheek bone right under each eye, or on the temple at the outer edge of each eye. These hashes are made with a razor and then also rubbed with charred ground nut paste. Lots of Peace Corps volunteers in The Gam, both men and women, get this done during their service. I’m considering it (shh, don’t tell my parents), but not on my face. Maybe my feet. And yes I will use a brand spanking new razor directly out of the package.
Binbin! Binbin are strands of beads worn around the waist or hips, and they are a big hush-hush secret. The beads themselves are usually strands of glass seed beads of various colors, sometimes strung with a few wooden beads in between. These wooded beads have been soaked in some perfume or scent, and because the wood is porous, the scent is held for a long time. Also popular right now, if not traditional, are plastic glow-in-the-dark beads. Like I said, these beads are a big hush-hush secret. A women never wants her binbin to show. If they do show, then either its an accident and she is very embarrassed, or she meant to show them and is trying to signal to a man that she wants to sleep with him. Women are very conscious of their binbin, and usually, if you see them, its because she meant for you to see them (I’ve seen this happen, actually. I was walking with a male PCV, and a girl in her mid teens, very intentionally walked ahead of us, and lifted her shirt to show the small of her back, and there were her binbins. She walked ahead of us like that for, like, ten minutes. My friend was very embarrassed). I like binbin. I think they are pretty, and I like the noise that they make when I walk.
A practice worth mentioning, but I will not go into great detail about is the practice female genital mutilation (FGM), which is still alive and well here in The Gambia. Young girls, anywhere from age 7 to their mid-teens, are taken to the woods in groups, taught how to be a proper Gambian woman, taught traditional dances, and have this circumcision done. In The Gambia, the procedure itself is one of the most severe forms of FGM in the world. There are groups active in trying to stop this practice, (the biggest one, Tostan, has had good success in Senegal), but one of the major hindering factors is that people think that it is related to religion (its not in the Koran), which makes it hard for them to give up. Peace Corps volunteers are encouraged not to try and tackle this issue on our own, just because it is so tightly held by the people here, and might serve as a major separating factor between the volunteer and the community, but to work with NGOs or such if the cause is near and dear to our hearts. It’s a complicated issue, drop me an email if you would like to discuss it further.
Awesome, way to end the entry on a high note, Whitney.
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