Friday, July 31, 2009

Hey toubab! Aaaaaany minty!

Hey so the other day, all the kids in my compound were playing a game. I’d never seen it before. It went a little like this:
One kid would yell “Toubab! Any Minty!”
And the other kid would throw a charred cashew at him. Sometimes the response would be more complex like “Sure! The minties are here in my bag!” and then he would throw the cashew.
The “Toubab! Any minty!” is a pretty common refrain for kids in The Gambia, I was just surprised to hear it from THESE kids. I’m the fourth PCV to live in Jammeh Kunda, and these kids have never toubabed me. In fact they defend me from kids who come from other neighborhoods(and it really is something to have a 4-year-old hold your hand and yell at her peers, in her little squeaky voice “Her name isn’t Toubab! It’s Faatu!”), so naturally I assumed that their close interaction with PCVs (some are young enough that they have always known PCVs to be here in their compound) had somehow made them enlightened on racial matters, able to see and appreciate people as individuals, and able to see through the silliness of stereotyped expectations. Nope. Maybe just under threat of a severe beating for bothering the toubabs who live at Jammeh Kunda. Or maybe it just hasn’t worked in the past with PCVs, so they stopped trying.
“Any Minty!” is irritating, but I can’t say that I always blame the kids for yelling it. It totally works sometimes. I’ve been in touristy places, and overheard people who were going to visit a school later, saying they wanted to stop and buy candy for the kids (for Christ’s sake, if you’re going to visit a school, and can’t help but give something, why not, oh I don't know, PENCILS?!). But it does make me wonder what the kids think of ME. I never give candy. I’ve made banana bread and shared with the neighborhood. I play. I chat. But I never give candy or money. So DO they see and appreciate me as an individual? Or am I, and all the PCVs before me, just the worst toubabs ever, stingy and lame. Don’t we know we’re supposed to throw candy from cars?
Anyhoo, it was really interesting to watch. Later the game turned to “Yaya Jammeh! Biscuits!” because the president throws cookies from his motorcade.
Kids.

Saturday, July 18, 2009

Sex and Ramadan, they're not related.

Except for today, because they’re both in my blog entry. So which one to tackle first?

Ramadan is coming up soon, and if you don’t know, it’s a whole month of fasting and prayer. Done correctly, one doesn’t eat or drink any water from sun up to sun down, all month long. My question is, do I participate? It’s cultural. My PCV friends say that it gives you a certain amount of street cred if you say you are fasting. My hangup is that I;m not Muslim. Everyone knows this and its not been a problem. I don’t want it to seem that I am somehow mocking someone’s religion by participating ( I also feel stupid every time I have to introduce myself as Fatumata, the name of the Prophet’s daughter. It sounds dumb when I am obviously not a Muslim. Should have changed it, too late now). For example, if I said I were fasting, the next question would be, are you praying? I don’t feel like having a long discussion on what prayer constitutes prayer, so the answer would be no because I am not praying the way they pray. And so what’s the point? My other reservation around fasting is less philosophical, more physical. I’m hungry all the time anyway, I don’t know what I would do if I couldn’t eat. Nothing would be accomplished all month long. And not drinking water is not an option. I don’t like to do things half-assed, so it makes me think I shouldn’t try it at all. But it’s cultural, and it might be a good experience. And I should at least put on a show of support and solidarity (even if I were eating, I would certainly have the respect to do it in my house) for my family and community. Suggestions? Am I mocking people by participating in their religious practices when I am not a believer? Should I just fake it? Should I go all in and just do it?

And now to the sex discussion. Some youth in the community asked me for condoms this past week. That’s awesome. In a culture where age of sexual debut is quite young, and many people have multiple partners, I was glad to hear that this person wanted to be safe. I advised they go to the nearest health center, about 2 K away, where I was told that condoms are distributed for free. The young man who had come to me said that he had already gone to the health center, but that he had been turned away empty-handed. The health center had told him that they did not want him to take condoms that he had gotten for free, then turn around and sell them to make a profit. Hmm. Well. I would think an organization promoting sexual health would distribute condoms for free, regardless of the risk that someone may profit. Or, even so, my solution would be to flood the market with free ones, then no one would even think of buying them from anyone. We could hang them from trees! Give them out as prayer gifts--instead of money or candy! If the president would throw condoms into the crowd instead of huge boxes of cookies, then maybe fewer children would be run over by his motorcade…and also people might make safer choices in their sex lives.
Anyhoo, so in the meantime, before I could figure out what exactly was up with the health center, I got some condoms from Peace Corps to distribute. This is not a sustainable solution, but if someone wants to be safe, I want to make that choice available. We had a short how-to session, slapped a few of those rubbers on my sunscreen bottle for practice, and he was ready to go!
When I finally did go to the health center to investigate how easy it was to procure condoms, I discovered that indeed it was not. Each time I introduced myself as a PCV, saying that I had some inquiries from people on where to get condoms, and wanted to know exactly where to direct them to make it easiest. After inquiring in a few different departments, I was shuffled from office to office, and it got a little old. Finally, I found the place I needed to be, way across the health center compound, I was directed to a small office, way at the end of a side hallway. And the man who would distribute them to me wasn’t there, he was in a meeting. Seriously? I never would have found it, nor would I have stuck around to wait for the man. Now, add to the situation that I’m some awkward teenager who doesn’t want to be there in the first place, Jesus, no wonder condom use isn’t all that widespread.
So I’m not sure what to do. I’ll still direct people there, but I’d rather have someone in my community willing to distribute them (but will men seek them if a woman is distributing? Will women seek them from a man? What if the person is old?). It’s not sustainable for me to keep doing it(and super awkward. If I give someone 8 condoms, then they come back to me 5 days later for more, I don’t want to think about that! I don‘t want to monitor anyone‘s sex life!), but I will until something better can be arranged.
And that’s all the news that’s fit to print. And I’ve got heat rash. good story, whitney

the continued adventures...

Hey so many of you may know that I used to work with kids with severe behavioral problems before coming here. Some were violent, and some had odd habits in such ways that it would be difficult to fit in. For example, I knew a young man who would spank his bottom, squinch up his face, and say he was an old granny every time he was in a social situation that made him nervous. We tried to discourage that. I had some severe déjà vu of exactly these situations, just the other day.
I was at the house of one of my mother’s friends. Everyone was chatting in Mandinka. I can understand most things if I pay attention and put forth a little effort, but by this time I was daydreaming and not listening at all. All of a sudden, out of nowhere, one of the kids says, in Mandinka, “I have a pen in my asshole. Hold it.” I turned around, and yes indeed, he had put a pen between his cheeks and was wiggling his behind in the direction of his brother. Now, conversations are still a struggle for me, I understand only the general meaning of things, none of the complexities, and I had not been paying attention at all.

But I heard THAT sentence, plain as day.
It made me question what we take for abnormal child behavior in the States, and how diagnoses fly willy-nilly. Maybe all kids are just weirdos, and they grow out of it. But I also pondered the various diagnoses that a child could receive, and that none of the services are available here, if there really were problems with their development. Probably the problem/solution lies somewhere between the diagnosis-happy-ness of America, and the kids-are-kids attitudes I see here.

Pull the pen out your butt, kid. Go wash your hands.

Monday, July 13, 2009

Hey all
So sometimes I think that Peace Corps is a great job for me because I don’t mind being alone, and being in a hut by myself with people who, while friendly, will never quite understand me is not a problem. On the other hand, Peace Corps is a terrible job for me because I don’t mind being alone, in fact I can get lost inside my hut inside my head doing some mundane task or other(lately its been weeding the garden, that task is never done), contemplating the world, and before I know it half the day is gone and I haven’t left the house yet. I could just Zen out and live like this forever.
So lately I’ve been back at site, but since so much of what I had been doing was based at schools, and now schools are on exams, then will be on summer holiday until September, I’m not quite sure what to do with my time. (getting teachers and school staff to meet outside of school hours is really tough, even during the school year. All of their in-service stuff happens during the school day, so the kids just run wild. Plus in the coming months everyone will be busy with their rainy-season planting.) So lately I’ve been sort of back to basics, just wandering around and chatting with people. It’s been nice, hanging with the women, playing with their kids.
Something that I’ve noticed that I struggle with, and think that things would go smoother if I could just master, is the art of indirectly talking about something, or talking around an issue. I’m usually pretty blunt in my discussion, and when I have a question or observation, I just put it on the table, and it can be so maddening when someone will start talking about something else entirely. They’re not being evasive, they intend to get around to whatever topic was at hand, just not by the most direct route. It think sometimes I come off as outright rude when I go straight to the core of an issue. For example, women sometimes don’t talk about their pregnancy for fear that devils may curse them and they will lose the child, so it is a better tactic, if you want to discuss it, ask her if she knows anyone who is pregnant, then talk about it in the abstract. I need to work on that skill in other areas.
Men have been more jerky than usual lately. Honestly, they’re egos are amazing, is it really so shocking that I DON’T want to chat with you? Really, I know that you’re just such a stand-up guy, and have so much to offer in the ways of intellectual conversation as you tell me how perfect and easy it is in America (Not crapping on all Gambian men, just the ones who follow me down the street until I seek shelter with an old woman. They don’t want to be shamed, so they’ll usually back off when I do this, though not always.).
This is another time when I have to be careful not to be TOO blunt(even when they ask for it), men seem caught off guard when I directly defend myself, and I don’t want to appear too rude to the women with whom I seek shelter. I just have to remember that just because I KNOW some good insults doesn’t mean I should use them.

Anyhoo. It’s hot. I’ve been here 8 months, how awesome is that?

Sunday, July 5, 2009





Hey all, its been a great week. Mostly, it included having an All-Volunteer meeting of every PCV in the country, and lucky for some careful use of the rules, we got to have it at a 5 star resort. The highlights of this week were:

Sitting on grass.
Eating bacon.
Letting my knees and calves see the light of day.

Unrelatedly, we got internet installed at our Peace Corps transit house, this is fabulous.

But I thought i would throw up a few more pics of my fabulous family. These were taken on the day of my two older host brothers'(dressed in green) Koranic reading (I feel like it was sort of like a final exam for the year for them). They had to recite verses of the Koran from memory, and while I wish they were learning other things at school, it was pretty cute to watch. The oldest will be going to regular school next year, so thats good.
Enjoy!