2Bluesheep

Welcome Yankuba Jammeh

2010-12-25T14:40:00.000-08:00

A few weeks ago, my host mother finally gave birth. She had a healthy baby boy, so here are some pictures of the baby and from the naming ceremony itself. Here is a picture of the baby at about 36 hours old.

The naming ceremony itself was a great day. Early in the morning, neighbors started coming over to our compound. Then, an old man shaved the baby's head, while an a neighbor lady held him. After his head was shaved, he was passed from old person to old person, as they all prayed over him. Then, someone held the baby up and announced his name to everyone "Yankuba!" (Its a Mandinka version of Yacob, which is the Muslim version of Jacob). The rest of the day was spent cooking huge vats of bennechin, and eating. My host mother looked beautiful, and changed into new beautiful outfits every few hours all day long. Later in the evening, we had a dance circle. Here are some pics from the day.

Its the final countdown

2010-12-23T10:25:00.000-08:00

Hey folks at home!

Sorry for the long silence! Its been a busy emotion-filled, anxiety ridden, pretty fun couple of months. I guess the reason I’ve been so quiet is that it becomes difficult to write when I run out of novel experiences. Life seems pretty normal here. But since you’ve been so patient, here are some pictures of the kittens that were born in my bed!

And now on to the topic at hand. My service is almost over. I’ve got about three weeks left. So now is the time to be pulling back on work-related stuff, more just being available to offer advice rather than organizing or leading anything. Its time to start making plans back home. Its time to start saying goodbye.

Some things feel good. I enjoy watching my students plan their own activities, and make decisions as a group. I only hope they continue to carry this great momentum forward. I just celebrated Tobaski with my host family, which was a really nice day, and I felt valued and as if I belonged. My host mother is pregnant and due to give birth any minute, and its been fun to anticipate the baby along with her, and plan the naming ceremony. A big community party with all my friends would be a nice way to end things. But I’m also excited to be making plans back home. I’m ready to see my family! I’m ready to eat some burritos! I’m currently in the process of applying for M. Ed. programs around the country, and its exciting to be thinking about the next step.

This is also pretty scary. In as much as I am looking forward to being home, I don’t think its going to be an easy transition. What about jobs? Is it going to be difficult to relate to people? Will they have a difficult time relating to me? Will my friendships pick back up where they were two years ago? What if I don’t get into any Master’s programs? I think 70 degrees is COLD, what about Michigan winters!?

Also, I’m feeling sad. I have genuine friends here, and that is going to be difficult to leave. I’ve watched a number of children grow and learn over the course of two years, and it’s a bummer to think of not being here to see them continue.

I wish you all a wonderful holiday season, I’ll be seeing you before you know it. Eeek.

2010-10-11T20:46:00.000-07:00

My apologies for how long its been since I've posted. Honestly, at this point its been a little hard to find things to post about. Nothing seems very novel, so why write?
Rainy season has come and gone, as has Ramadan. My service is coming to a close, so while I am still active and available in my community, I'm not trying to start anything new. School has started again, and the Peer Health Club has lots of new members and big plans for the year. My friend and I are still working on installing internet at the school, though Ramadan did delay the process.

Here is something I've wanted to post since being here. The following picture is of Omar and his Peace Corps Cafe! Omar is a talented cook who has been friends with PC for years. His little rocket ship-shaped hut is just down the street from our offices, so its a great lunch spot, plus he's open to learning new foods for volunteers, such as quasadillas or philly cheese steak sandwiches. He caters a lot of PC training events and makes a mean ginger chicken.

Thanks Omar!

packing list

2010-08-24T07:17:00.000-07:00

Hey everybody! As my service here comes to an end, I thought I would review what I was glad I brought with me, and what I wish I had brought instead. PC issues a suggested packing list, but we all agree that its kind of dumb. But since changing it would involve going through Washington DC (seriously, we checked), I thought I would just post one of my own(to be considered IN ADDITION to the one offered by PC) for anyone considering PC in Sub Saharan Africa.

Things I’m glad I brought
My laptop--really good for storing pics, being able to work at home, and watching movies. Wifi is increasingly available in The Gambia, you’re going to want a laptop. Also came in handy for radio project I did with my students.
An extra battery for my laptop--it was nice to be able to have an extra couple of hours of power between charging. Everyone I knew who had one of those big, expensive solar batteries that can power a laptop said that they didn’t work. Its better to rig something up here with a car battery, or make your own solar set-up once you get here. Or as I did, just have an extra battery you can charge when you ARE near power.
Ipod and speakers
Headlamps
Digital camera
Solio--little solar panel charger. It takes about 8 hours in the sun to get a full charge, and from it I can charge my cell phone and ipod without needing to go searching for an outlet. Some people said that their Solio broke in the rain. Mine has been rained on plenty of times and is still going strong.
My own pillow--pillows in this country are terrible.
A fleece blanket--believe it or not, January and February nights are chilly
Sturdy sandals--I prefer Keen, but lots of people seem to like Chacos. Both of these companies provide discounts to PCVs, so take advantage of that.
Toiletries--deodorant, tampons, and razors are all available here, but they are expensive. Its better to load up on that stuff at home when it goes on sale. Ten sticks of deodorant for a $1 each is going to feel WAY better than buying one every month or so for the equivalent of $4 on your PC living allowance.

Things I wish I had brought
A French press--Nescafe is yucky.
More solid colored plain t-shirts
Knife sharpener
One pair of nice heals. Oh wait, I did bring that. And when my bag was too big, they were one of the first things to be ditched. I still think about them all lonely next to the airport trash can.
More food from home--seriously, this is what you should fill your bags with. Food for training, and other stuff you can’t get here. Chai tea, drink/soup/sauce mixes, real coffee, real chocolate, dried fruit. Etc.

Things that I didn’t need
Don’t bring so many clothes, you can just have things made here, or go shopping in the “dead white man’s clothes” (clothes donated to Goodwill, then sold to developing countries).

DON’T bring so many professional clothes, no matter what the stupid packing list says. I still have some nice slacks and button-down shirts that I haven’t worn yet. Its just too hot. Most of us just don’t work in offices, so why feel uncomfortable all the time? For women, conservative sun dresses are better, or I’m sure you’ll have things tailored. For men, a few pairs of khakis and a couple of button-downs will be fine.

Hiking boots/sturdy shoes--I can only think of 2 times that I wore sturdy shoes. The rest of the time I wore flip-flops. It’s just too hot for closed-toed shoes. And if you’re going in and out of people’s houses, you’re going to be lacing them up and off all the time.

Cell phone--yes, you can bring an unlocked phone from the states to use here, but I don’t think that it was worth it. The internet capabilities on my phone weren’t compatible with the internet offerings here, and it wasn’t as sturdy. The nokia phones here are cheap($35-$40), durable, and come with a handy-dandy flashlight function that you will use every single day.

Dead Aid

2010-07-27T08:32:00.000-07:00

Hey everybody.

So this past week the president of our country, His Excellency the Honorable Gen. Dr. Prof. Sheik Alagie A. J. J. Jammeh traveled around the country giving money to schools to host end-of-year parties. Awesome. He gave the high school where I work D40, 000 (roughly $1,600), with the stipulation that it be used in one day to give a party for students and staff. So we bought 2 cows for slaughter, probably 150 kilos of rice, 60 litres of oil, onions, potatoes, plus all the spices to make yassa and bennechin. Plus boxes and boxes of green tea for attaya, and cans of sweetened condensed milk, which they re-hydrate a little, and serve hot. And we hired a DJ.
Here is my problem. This is a school that can’t get its ducks in a row to keep itself in good working order. We may be in better shape than some because we are German-sponsored, but we still don’t have any science equipment, our art supplies are few and are bad quality, and the library is full of outdated books which no one cares for or organizes (I’ve been trying to guess whether the West just donated a bunch of junk, or whether they sent good learning materials, and all the nice stuff has been stolen by now). In each grade, about one third of the students performed well enough to be promoted to the next grade. In short, when the money is clearly available, is a party really what we need most?
I struggled with how to have this discussion with people. I didn’t want to lecture or impose my American practicalities on people, especially since its not my school’s fault. They didn’t ask for a party, someone just handed them some money and told them to buy some cows. Of course they agreed. The best I could do was ask questions to try and facilitate discussion (“Wow! D40,000? To use all in one day? Think what that money could buy that we could enjoy all year long!”)I could have boycotted, but that really wouldn’t have made much of a dent either. I went, cooked with my friends, ate beef and was glad for the protein.

I’ve mentioned this anecdote as an introduction to a discussion on Dead Aid a book I’ve read on the history of aid sent to the developing world, and whether or not the habit has outlived its purpose. In short, the book makes the argument that by continuing to send money, the developed world is only enabling the developing world in keeping bad habits, or that the trend of giving has outlived the need for it. More and more, the citizens of these developing countries (and their governments) HAVE the money to meet many of their own needs, but know very well what the donors will pay for, so they use their own money on (forgive me) dumb stuff. The developed world will pay for ARVs for HIV/AIDS patients, so local governments can spend their own money on big sports stadiums. The developed world LOVES to support schools buy building them, furnishing them, buying supplies, and paying fees, so local governments feel free to buy parties, parents feel free to buy fancy clothes. Our aid has many other negative effects as well, often by being open to our “aid” a country must also be open to trade with us, and by having our imports their own economy can’t sustain its own production. To close itself off from trade with us might be the best thing for the local economy, but they would lose donations and no one wants that. Its been noted that many countries are poorer now than they were 20 years ago. Where has our money been going?

So what to we do now? Quitting aid cold turkey is bound to lead to problems, and probably violence. But continuing, I honestly believe, is throwing money down a hole. My friend, who was a PCV in The Gambia in 1979, and now is a college professor, argues that the best thing would be to create laws which would make it easier for people to legally immigrate to the US and Europe for work. These people then send remittance checks home to their families, thereby stimulating development. I’m not so sure. Yes, the good thing would be that (in this case) this would be Africans working to support Africans, not some faceless donor sending money to faceless recipients. It would be a personal interaction. And I’m all for culture exchange on both sides, we could all stand to learn a little more about each other. But with the current economic situation in the States, I’m not sure it’s the job of my government to ensure jobs to foreigners. I want to know that there will be a job for me and my family when I get home. Also, from my own observations, I’m not convinced that remittance checks automatically equally school fees. More often I see them spent on fancy fabric and cell phones. Most communities have people abroad sending money home, but in my opinion its not very well spent, and I have a hard time believing that more of the same would improve things.

So that’s that. Only questions, no answers.

Seven months

2010-07-08T05:01:00.000-07:00

Hey everybody,

Summer is here, and the rains are in full force. Recently, it really feels like my close of service has been fast approaching. Seven months isn’t a long time at all. Some days this can seem exciting, other times scary. I’m in no hurry to leave, but some days I do get tired of being a woman in a Muslim country, and I do get tired of being a white person in an African country. Some anonymity and privacy will be a welcome break. I also look forward to having more control over what I eat and when (Mexican food and cheesecake are high on the list).
But I also get sad about the thought of leaving. As much as I ache for privacy, nothing beats the feeling of coming home from time away and my family and neighbors all welcoming me back. My host family are wonderful people. My mother has helped me through every awkward social interaction where I blurted out the absolute wrong thing, and she did it all with grace and understanding. When work hasn’t gone so well, I’ve gotten a great amount of amusement and comfort from playing with and watching the kids in the compound. Their antics never disappoint. Its been a really neat experience to watch my youngest host brother grow. He learned to walk and talk since I’ve been here and its been neat to watch him turn into a real human being. Also, my host mother is pregnant. She should deliver before I leave, so that’s an exciting thing to anticipate, but sad that I won’t be here for more of it.
When I DO get back to the states, what am I supposed to do? Where am I going back to? I know I want to go into teaching, but is it better to just be certified and start working, or better to go for the Master’s now? Where? To teach which age group? Mainstream or special needs?

Eek. So that’s whats on my mind these days.

Fula scars

2010-06-19T12:33:00.001-07:00

Hey all!
So here's a new adventure!

Near the beginning of my service I posted an article about women, and the many things they do for beauty. One of those things is decorative scarring at the outside corners of the eyes, or just below the eyes on the apples of the cheeks. The fula tribe does this most, but women from other tribes do it too. PCVs in The Gambia have taken to getting the scars as well, as a memento of their service here, body adornment, and general proof of being a baddass.
Well, the time has come for me to get my scars. Luckily, my friend Lisa came along to cheer me on, and to take pictures. Enjoy!

So here's how the day went. We traveled from Lisa's site in Soma, to Wassu, to the home of a woman named Fatou Ceesay. She has been the lady to go to for PCVs getting scars. After greeting for awhile, we went into her house, and got down to business. We washed our feet (where we were both to be scarred), and then she very gently sliced with a (brand new, straight from the package, i bought it myself) razor. The wound barely bled, and only stung a little. She then rubbed it with charred peanut powder. We then bandaged it, and were instructed not to remove the bandage or get it wet for three days.
I was worried about what my neighbors would think. Would they be flattered that I found one of their traditions so beautiful that I chose to permanently alter my body with it? Would they find it to be a bit of a farce because I didn't put it on my face? It turns out they seemed flattered, and when I explained that it would be difficult to get a job with black scars on my face, they understood. The universal response has been to ask why I didn't get them on my breasts. Some have even whipped them out to show me. No good answer for that, ladies. Maybe next time.

2010-06-19T10:20:00.000-07:00

Hey all,

Still here only.

The PSA project with my students has ended pretty well. I'm really proud of them. I might have bitten off a little more than I could chew, but overall, i think it will work. We recorded four scripts (one each on HIV, the importance of breastfeeding, malnutrition, and malaria). Then, the goal was to record each script in English, and the three major local languages. Eeek, that turned out to be 16 recordings! That, plus all the editing, etc, that goes into it turned out to be a bit much for the kids' schedules (and i'm going cross-eyed from looking at sound squiggles on my computer), but we got them all recorded in English, all in Mandinka, and a few in each Pulaar and Wolof. We've added music and sound effects, and the next step is for me to duplicate the recordings, and distribute them to my PC pals around the country, and they will bring it to their local radio stations. Go Peer Health!

2010-06-06T02:37:00.001-07:00

Hey all,

i came in with the intention of updating on my radio PSA project with my students. its going well, but there is something else on my mind.

Ok. So. I am a member of our Volunteer Advisory Committee (VAC). The committee's job is to communicate with admin on behalf of volunteers, and vice versa. We give feedback on policy, hold admin responsible to follow through with things they say they will do, keep tabs on our transit house and other things that affect PCVs.

The recent frustration is the new administration. We received a new country director last November, and I know part of the reason he was sent was to get our program back in line with PC Washington regulations (little did i know, we were way out there in terms of policy, and enforcing policy). Our last CD, while he was happy to drop whatever he was doing in order to sit and talk with a PCV about anything, he didn't follow policies very closely, and didn't punish people who broke them. So, it has been a difficult set of changes. They have written numerous policies, and consequences for breaking them. Difficult as it is, I know this is all well and good. The problem is, our new CD isn't as interested in having personal relationships with PCVs as the old one was. He doesn't seem to think its his job. Come with a concern, and he will direct you elsewhere. Moreover, he doesn't seek/value PCV input when it is appropriate to seek it. I know that in terms of some policies, its all Washington's doing, and we have little room for input. But others, such as the direction of our program in development, its appropriate and necessary to seek PCV input on these decisions. We are the ones actually working on the ground. Most of us have been here longer than him, and better know the culture and history of development in the country.
Recently our CD decided that his new focus for our program is to push grant-writing. He has organized a series of new trainings and committees, etc. Hmm. Well, if someone is going to write a grant, I would want them to do it well, and so trainings seem like a good step. My concern is that PUSHING grant-writing might make people think that getting money for things ought to be our focus. It's not. It's absolutely %100 ok to be a PCV and never bring any money to a project. Money is not a solution to the problem, and TOO MUCH development money has harmed Gambia in many ways by shaping bad habits. Not enough money is not the problem. There is plenty of money in this country, just backward priorities. People can find money to spend over $40 for a single outfit, or over $500 for a party, but can't seem to find the money to send their kids to school. Here, as in other places in the developing world, people have really capitalized on what foreigners will pay for and what they will not. Foreigners like to pay for hospitals, ARVs, schools and school fees, roads, and food relief. Foreigners will not pay for big parties, fancy clothes, or mobile phones. So people spend their own money on the fun stuff, then knock on our door for the rest. It only exacerbates the problem if we're just another group of people throwing money around. If our CD spent some time living outside the capital he would know that. If we tell him our opinions, he simply replies "duly noted" and continues what he was doing.

The money thing is a big frustration. I know that some amount of money is necessary for development efforts. I just liked that we were different from other organizations in that we focused on skill-building. Money gets in the way of that because people still get stuff, and don't have to change any of their habits or learn new skills. When that money runs out, more will come. it always does. Why learn new skills when you can get paid to just stay the same? And the fact that my opinion (and those of my peers) is not valued by someone whose job it is to support me is a real pisser.

thats my rant for the day. duly noted.

The F word

2010-06-02T10:10:00.000-07:00

*Yes, this article contains profanity. You can handle it.

Here’s something I’ve been meaning to write about. The F word. You know, the four letter one. It fits into almost any part of speech and is pretty universally offensive. Well, thanks to movies and rap music coming in from the West, the F word is fairly prevalent in conversation here. However, something has been lost in translation, and the word doesn’t carry as much weight. I did a double take the first time I heard a grown man tell his toddler son to “F*ck off” when he really just meant “go away and stop trying to climb my legs.” One can even hear old ladies reprimand others by yelling “F*cking ass!” out of bus windows. A PC employee replied, when I had asked what he was still doing at the office at 7 pm on a Friday, “Oh, I’m nearly done here and then soon I will f*ck off.”

Well. Fine. I’m not so much a prude, and can accept that people don’t quite mean what I hear when they use that word. But its one of the strongest words in my arsenal, and what can I do when I really really need to tell someone where to go? When I need the word to mean what I mean by it and all its force to be unleashed on someone who has thoroughly pushed my buttons? When my dander is up, what can I say when I really really need to make myself clear? One of the most offensive words in my vocabulary has been rendered pretty meaningless…and this can be frustrating.

PC did teach us insults as part of our language training. This happened to varying degrees depending on which trainer a person had. Some trainers went all out. Ours sheepishly taught us phrases such as “you are very lazy” and “you are so foolish.” Those don’t quite cut it. To learn the real deal, I had to go to the streets. Nonetheless, I just cannot bring myself to yell, in Mandinka, “I will cut your father’s penis to pieces!” or “Your mother’s clitoris is red!” even if it would get the job done. Even just yelling “your penis!” or “your asshole!”, while it sounds very silly coming out of my mouth, is enough to bring people to blows here. I just can’t do it.

2010-05-05T07:58:00.000-07:00

Hey all,

Its been a little while. Work is still work. Its still hot. Recently, I started working with the Peer Health kids at the high school project, so I thought I’d talk a little about how that was going.
A couple of weeks ago, I introduced the idea of making health-related public service announcements. I wanted the group to break up into smaller groups, which would then choose a health topic, research it, write a service announcement, record it in the three major languages, and distribute these recordings around the country. (actually my PCV friend Tavi came up with this great idea, but unfortunately she has been too busy to work on it). The kids seemed excited about an outreach project, so we got started.
I began by bringing in examples of 30 second health announcements(which in itself was a difficult thing to find on the internet, things that are relevant to Gambians. We don‘t talk about depression here, or childhood obesity, so finding radio messages about other topics was a challenge), and we discussed the messages in each, and the idea of a target audience. They chose their topics, and I brought in all the info I could find for them to research from. (internet downloads, health textbooks from the 80’s, my PC health manual) Then we started researching. And it was on this third session working on this project that they finally “got” what it was we were doing.
30 SECONDS!?! That’s not possible!!! How can we say all this in 30 seconds?! Why can’t we do a one-hour radio show? (how honestly to reply? Because you guys don’t know enough about any particular topic to do a one hour show on it, that’s why. Too honest, whitney). What, you guys just got this? We listened to examples, I’ve repeated the premise of what we are doing over and over. Yes, 30 SECONDS. I tried to re-explain in terms of cooking--when you cook sauce you put many things into the pot, and lots of water, then you boil it all down for many hours until you have a sauce. It might be smaller than what you started with, but the flavor is stronger. I want you to boil this information down to its most important points and use that for your radio announcement. Or, advertising. I talked about radio commercials for a mobile phone company, Africell. They have short messages telling you why you should buy their product. We are advertising good health choices, and we need to catch people’s attention with short bits of important info.
They’re still fighting me. I know I’m asking them to do something outside of their experience. When Gambians get together to discuss topics, many people make speeches. One person will get up and be like “such and such is so important because blahblahblah…” for 20 minutes, often more. And then someone else will stand up and say “just to re-emphasize what my colleague has just said blahblahblah….” and he will repeat EXACTLY what was already said. It takes hours and everyone wants to hear his own voice, even if its just repeating what has already been said many times (I try not to get bitter when I attend these things. This cultural habit serves a function. Since so few people read, things are learned by repetition. Everyone repeats the message, so maybe it can be remembered. Its just that I watch people zoning out or playing with their phones, they are just as bored as I am and not listening). Also, kids at school are given information in books and lectures, and then just asked to memorize and regurgitate it at test time, whether or not they understand the words or not. So, to ask them to read info (which I do think this group is able to do), and decide for themselves what is most important , is a really really tall order in critical thinking for these kids.

And so, small small. Learning experiences all around.

As a post script to this article, but in no way as an afterthought, I wish to thank every teacher, parent, or mentor who ever encouraged me to think out of the box, come up with something new, and ask questions beginning with “How?” “Why?” or “What if?” rather than beating me for the impertinence of my question. I was allowed and encouraged to imagine the world that I wanted to create, knowing that imagining was the first step in making it possible. I am so much the better for it.
The US is not superior because we have flush toilets and fabric softener. It is certainly not true that no one works hard and we just sit all day counting our money. But as innovation in thought has been a core value of our philosophy from the beginning of our country’s history, this has contributed a great much to our success. Knowing that anyone’s next great idea could be just around the corner gives me hope for the world. Critical thinking skills are extremely important. These kids are not stupid, but they are a product of a really really outdated teaching method and their country’s development is suffering because of it.

2010-03-29T07:41:00.000-07:00

Hey everybody! It's a loofah sponge in it's natural habitat!

All this time I thought loofahs came from the ocean, mostly because regular sponges do.

but as it turns out, loofahs come from The Gambia. ;-) and i'm sure other places too.

2010-03-09T02:58:00.000-08:00

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This past week or so has been kind of a pisser. Want to hear?

Alright, so I wrote a few weeks ago about having discussed condom use with the students at the school. Before I did those lessons, I mentioned to the teacher coordinator that we were going to discuss sexual and reproductive health, including condoms. Then, I did the sessions separately with boys and girls. A month passed and we moved on to other things.
Then, a week and a half ago, this teacher coordinator called me into his office to say that what I had done was wrong, and anti-Islam, etc etc. While I was surprised and a little annoyed that he had taken to long to tell me, he was very respectful in his tone, and seemed to try to make it a dialogue between two people with differing points of view, rather than a wrist-slapping. That’s fine. I’m open to discussion and I know that religion is a big part of people’s lives and decision-making processes. What I was NOT ok with was the fact that he spoke about me to students when I was not present. I’m pissed that he may have tarnished my credibility with them, and I told him so. His opinion is that we should preach chastity and virtue only, and that to discuss condoms as a safety measure gives students license to sleep around willy-nilly(does the argument sound familiar?). OF COURSE I encourage abstinence. It’s the safest option and the only sure-fire way to keep your body healthy. It’s just not practical to only give people that option.
My problem is that up until this point, I really respected this man. I still do, though I really disagree with him on this point. He and I both care about the students, I just care more about the here-and-now, he is more concerned with the hereafter. I wanted to be respectful of him and of the faith and culture while still pushing for a more practical education for the students. So when this teacher invited me to his house to discuss the issue, I went. I wanted to show that the lines of communication are open. At his house, I met one of his very devout friends and was subjected to two hours of complete bullshit. His friend began with questions and speeches meant to convert me(have you ever wondered why you were created? (Let me blather on about the wonder of the universe and it‘s creator), and when I pointed out that this was off-topic from what I came to discuss, he moved on to how the West is corrupting the youth, and that if I teach condoms etc, MORE unwanted pregnancies and HIV transmissions would result. He also gave me grief about child’s right’s advocates coming over and saying that people shouldn’t beat their children (actually lots of people have been giving me hell about this lately. There seems to be a mass misunderstanding about Child’s Rights--teachers, parents, and kids alike). And he guessed that I was probably going to try to encourage homosexuality because that is acceptable in my country (not touching that one, it’s illegal here and I’m not trying to be labeled a witch and hauled off by the government). Moreover, he seemed to like having the threat of pregnancy and HIV as a weapon and stigmatizer, so that if someone became pregnant or infected they could be labeled a “fornicator” because only through premarital sex could any of these things happen. God wouldn’t allow them to happen any other way.
This discussion was exhausting for a number of reasons. I really struggled with how far I wanted to push this issue. I attended this phenomenal waste of my Sunday morning because I am aware of how America is viewed, and I didn’t want to seem like I was unwilling to listen, know everything, hating on Islam, etc. but I also think that this is important info for kids to have in the fight against HIV.
Luckily, I have been able to talk to the headmaster about the issue. Sex education, including condom use, is part of the school curriculum for senior secondary schools. I brought in text books to demonstrate, and also the official literature from the organization who supports the Peer Health Clubs on the national level. This curriculum is government sanctioned, and if someone has a problem with it, they have no right to attack me personally about it. Gambia is not an Islamic state. This high school is not an Islamic school. While religion can be part of the discussion, it cannot be the ONLY discussion. The principal backed me up, which I was grateful for, I just worry about the effect this disagreement may have had on the students and our relationship.

As a side note, what is it with religious fanatics and their obsession with sex? Why are those rules the ones they like to enforce so strictly? When there are lots of rules in a religion, why do people think that there is wiggle room in some(like in this case, I know that there are other rules of Islam that this teacher breaks and he says that there is room for interpretation but be damned if someone wants to protect themselves from HIV) , but the ones governing sexual practice are to be held hard and fast (ha. No pun there, promise.)
Why does everyone care who is doinking who?

2010-03-01T05:10:00.000-08:00

and here's just some other pics i felt like throwing up on the blog.

some kids playing in the yard.

my best friend

and me rocking some corn rows

Nonverbal Communication

2010-03-01T04:54:00.000-08:00

MAN its hot outside. Our cold season this year was, like, a week long. Now its back to hot and dry with strong harmattan winds blowing from the northeast. The wind isn’t cool and refreshing though, its hot like standing underneath a hair dryer all day. Yikes. But hey, the cashews will be here again soon, and then the rains will come (and then the mold will come ;-/) and then the mangos will come!
With my Mandinka skills being as so-so as they are, I thought I would devote some space to Gambian non-verbal communication. Without even noticing, I use quite a few in theh day-to-day. Here are my favorites.
This is the general question hand. It means “where are you going?” or “how much does this cost?” Start with the palm facing downward, then dramatically turning the hand over. A driver might make this gesture as he approaches to ask if you are going his way, and whether you want a ride. This same interaction happens in reverse when hitch-hiking.

Eh?

This is a more emphatic version of the same gesture, and I usually translate it as “What the hell?” The hands clap together, then both sharply turn palms up.

WTF?

This is a threat. It serves as a warning to a child that if he does not stop what he is doing, he will be beaten. It is done by holding the middle finger steady with the thumb, then shaking the hand forcefully so that the index finger slaps against the middle finger. The louder the sound the better. Sometimes the threat continues as follows.

I am going to beat you.

Until you die.

Then I’m going to eat you.

This one is my favorite. It begins with arms bent at 90 degree angles to the body. They then they are brought sharply down to the sides (think of the chicken dance. Its like one chicken flap). Sometimes it is accompanied by the declaration “Mbang!” but just the gesture is understood fine. It means “I refuse!”

Whatsoever a man can do, yadda yadda yadda

2010-03-01T04:52:00.000-08:00

Hey all. So here’s something that I’ve found difficult. It seems to be coming up often lately, so I figured its worth writing about. The issues of women’s equality and empowerment is one that many people play lip-service to, partly because lots of NGOs get money to do “sensitizations” on the topic, but from what I can tell, not much is sinking in. Yes, you may say that “whatsoever a man can do, a woman can also do” but do you believe it?
It’s a sticky topic to discuss, partly because of the resistance that I meet from both women and men, but also because if I get worked up then I can’t be effective any more. The last thing I need to do is mouth off about how women here are oppressed, it puts people on the defensive and isn’t helpful. In other words, I really need to control my temper. I can’t get mad just because someone isn’t living my dream.
Oddly, I meet a lot of resistance on this topic from women. Women here do ALL the housework*--cooking, sweeping, laundry, bathing the children, fetching water, plus often some small income-generating activity like selling vegetables from the garden--and quite frankly they’re PROUD of it. They keep their family fed and healthy and it’s a big point of pride for them. I’m not trying to take that away from anyone. Usually when I mention that American men cook, clean, do laundry, and take an active role in parenting, they respond by asking what I do? (usually this conversation happens when some woman is asking why I won’t marry her son/nephew/any Gambian man) Replying that I would go to the workplace and ALSO share in some of the housework, it doesn’t seem to be enough. Women are going to the workplace in increasing numbers here, and they are still responsible for the housework, and most get offended when I wonder aloud if that will change. My friend who is a teacher says that she used to teach all morning, then come home to cook lunch for her husband, then go back to work (this has changed since a second wife joined the family). The best I can say is “Yaama, that sure sounds like a lot of work.” She said that if she saw a man cooking, that she would complain that his wife was not good. Another female professional demanded that her husband hire a maid to cook and clean for them, but in no way demanded that he pitch in.
I’ve been similarly frustrated when talking to women professionals about working conditions, being a minority in the workplace, etc. I want to conduct a discussion on it in an up-coming Women’s and Girl’s Empowerment Camp, and was looking to see if people experience the same frustrations I do when working with Gambian men and balancing work and home life, and giving them a place to discuss coping strategies. I was baffled when no one mentioned any of the same frustrations. Do they not get pissed when a man talks over them? Does it not chap their ass when they are asked to do some menial task that the man is fully capable of doing himself? I don’t want to fish for these answers particularly, but I was surprised when they didn’t come up.
So how to discuss equalizing work loads without taking away someone’s pride in the job they do? Slowly slowly, Gambia. You’ll get there.
*Its important to mention that men do work too, of course. They build houses and fences. They dig wells. Men dig furrows for the rainy season crops. They slaughter animals. Its just that these jobs are seasonal, and so the Daily Working to Sitting-on-Their-Butts Ratio is a whole lot heavier on the sitting side than it is for women.

our mothers were right, veggies are good for you

2010-02-03T02:58:00.000-08:00

hey everybody,

Lately I've been noticing just how jaded I am on what normal development looks like in children. There are kids here who are big, for The Gambia, their hair is the right color, and so I assume that they are developing normally. But lately, Gambian relatives who are living in Europe have been visiting with their children. These kids are huge! For example, my host brother is two years old and is always eating, has lots of hair, is getting taller and runs around like a healthy kid. So I assumed that he was on the healthy track for development. But to see these Gambian toddlers being raised in the West eating vitamin fortified food, and man I'm shocked. One little girl is a year younger and a full head and shoulders taller than my younger brother. yikes.

One thing the Gambian kids have going for them is their sense of sharing. Foreign kids are BRATS. Gambian kids share everything with each other. Everybody takes bites of each other's cookies, everyone takes a lick of everyone's lollipop(yes, I recognize the germy consequences, but I'm focusing on the social advantages here), and no one cries about it. Foreign kids throw tantrums. Go Gambia. Now lets all eat vegetables together.

youth of brikama! lets wrap it up!

2010-02-03T02:55:00.001-08:00

Hey all! Its been awhile! I just finished with two sessions on condom use with my peer health club at the high school. Two sessions, because I split them up into boys and girls so as to, hopefully, make them more comfortable to participate and learn. Both sessions were really different, but both turned out great.
The girls were few, but those who showed fully participated, and asked questions. I did an ice-breaker activity involving condom balloons. They rolled with it. They watched me demonstrate correct use on a bottle of sunscreen, then practiced for themselves. It was a somewhat easy forum for this, even though they are shy. The premise of their club is to educate themselves on health topics, then teach their peers, so I could really focus on how everyone should have good information to share with their friends, that way no one had to admit to having a boyfriend (though I’m sure they all know who has and who doesn’t). What really impressed me was the dialogue though, both what they created with me and with each other. They asked questions about common beliefs (“my friend says when you use a condom and throw it away at the end, you’re throwing away a baby. Is that true?”) and discussed common ideas about family planning, and asked enough questions about the available methods that I now know I have to do a whole session on it. One girl was really gung-ho, while the others hung back. I thought it was great that she did all the talking about the need to plan you’re pregnancies, and that maybe three is enough children that I didn’t have to be the toubab preaching these ideas. They are already here.
The boys were different, much more raunchy and macho (but very respectful of me personally), but just as open to asking questions. People seem to have this idea that the lubricant that comes on condoms is bad. I’m working hard to dispel that belief. There are also a variety of herbal remedies for all sorts of male problems or insecurities, and they had a lot of questions about that. I like having sessions that go so well, everyone seems relaxed and all the information gets out. It gives a great Peace Corps high.

That said, it really is the middle of my service. I was sworn in as volunteer just over a year ago. Time flew. It’s a bit of a strange time right now just because I’m pretty integrated, I know a lot of people and I feel like I’m a valued part of the community. I feel like I’ve got a pretty good handle on what is feasible from the ground, and who to talk to to get things done. It feels really good. Its what I came for, the experience of being integrated and familiar with a culture so different from my own. I think that’s why I don’t update as much anymore, because things seem so normal. I don’t blog about my daily life at home, and it almost seems as silly to do so now.
But on the other hand, even though I’m so much better able to work effectively than when I first got here, and things flow pretty smoothly in the day to day, now is also the time to start planning for when I get home. That’s pretty scary. Eek.

Sierra Leone: round 2

2010-01-15T09:32:00.000-08:00

This entry includes our day-trip to River Number 2, and River number 2 Beach. River Number 2 has a lovely waterfall that we hiked to, and the beach is positively pristine. The local community runs a tourist resort there--food, lodging, etc--and all the proceeds go to running the community school. Its great, but part of the attraction was that it was so secluded and quiet. I’ve got to say that irresponsible tourism would totally ruin it. Maybe Gambian beaches were once so quiet and perfect as well.

This is us walking along the road, trying to find River Number 2. I just enjoy the redness of the soil.

This is the river and the falls (more like a gently trickling creek, pooling into a lagoon, but it was still great).

Here are some beach pics. It was lovely. The little boy just came out of nowhere and sat with us on the beach. He was super cute, and quiet. We figured either his mother sent him to beg from us, or he is just so used to white people coming to the beach, and probably doing fun things and eating good food that he is totally comfortable with them. Either way, he just sat and chilled.

fishing boats

and that was a day at the beach.

Sierra Leone:round 1!

2010-01-15T09:18:00.000-08:00

Hey all! It’s been awhile! The month of December flew by, I was busy…..doing awesome stuff….and not much in the mood to mass-communicate. So there. What did I do?

I went to Sierra Leone! If you have the chance to visit West Africa, I would highly recommend Sierra Leone. My friend Olga and I did our traveling together, because we decided to go rather spontaneously, the trip was not very clearly planned out. This only added to the adventure. ;-)

All the forthcoming updates are about that trip, you should try to read them in order. Most are pretty touristy-sounding (“and then we did THIS! And saw THIS! It was great!”) but allow me a minute to talk about the trip from a development point of view. Sierra Leone is doing so much better than Gambia. They had a huge bloody WAR and they seem to be doing better in a lot of ways. Education rates are higher, more people speak English. Their infrastructure is more present--buses THAT RUN ON SCHEDULE, paved roads WITH LITTLE LINES PAINTED ON THEM. My question is, given all that Sierra Leone has been through, why? Of course there is still poverty there, but why do they have their ducks in a row so much more than The Gam? Gambia is pretty peaceful. Gambia receives a metric shit-ton of European aid. Is it that religion plays a different role in people’s life in Sierra Leone than it does in Gambia (from what I could tell)? It must matter somewhat that back in the colonial days, the colonial seat of West Africa was in Sierra Leone, and not the Gam, hence the favoritism with better schools and roads and such, but why have they not caught up since then? It really was a frustrating thing to ponder while I was there. No answers, only questions. Anyway, on with the adventure!

We arrived outside of Freetown in the evening of Dec 6, and stayed with a friend of a friend. What struck me most was the terrain. Sierra Leone has mountains! Our plan from there was to find the Peace Corps office, and try to stay with volunteers. Some PC The Gambia staff had made it seem as if PC was currently active in Sierra Leone, and I would certainly put up a fellow volunteer for a few nights, so I thought we were set. As it turns out, PC is only in the process of becoming active in the country. Currently they have only their country director there, no other staff, no office, no volunteers. Ooops. Luckily, the new country director took pity on us , and allowed us to stay in some vacant apartments in the same building.

The following pictures are from around Freetown. There is the historic Cotton Tree. In itself, not all that exciting, they used to sell slaves underneath it. But THERE ARE BATS LIVING IN IT. Right out in the daylight in downtown Freetown. Heck Yeah.

This pic is of the historic Krio houses, built by slaves freed and returned from Britain. Note that they are built in an English style, rather than the indigenous style.

This is a view of the city from Signal Hill

2009-12-01T03:58:00.000-08:00

Hey all,

Lately I’ve been feeling a little unfocused. There could be a variety of reasons for this. It could be that our Health and Community Development project plan for The Gambia is really vague. It could be that the training I received focused much more on the needs of the rural villages, and didn’t take into account the needs and work opportunities in a more urban setting. People around me don’t need to be encouraged to bring their children to the health clinic, they already go. They don’t want to make mud stoves, they want gas stoves like their more affluent peers have and like they see on TV. They keep business records. They know how to garden. Girls, by and large, attend school. I also wasn’t attached directly to a person or organization, I was more or less plunked down and told to find something to do(This is a mixed blessing though. Some of my friends who were attached to someone, found it was a bad connection for one reason or another, and had to awkwardly back out.).
I’m not mad about it. I love my family. I love my neighbors. I’ve found work that is meaningful to me, though no one work item has been constant throughout. My priority and focus changes according to what is going on at the time, and who is most interested in working at the time. I enjoy my work with the highschoolers most. Lately a primary school whom I had been working with but stopped because they weren’t serious, recently became reinspired and wanted me to come back and tackle some new issues with them.
This chicken project so far has come to naught. We were approved for the grant, but then some investigation happened, and no further funds have been dispensed. There is reason to believe that we still may receive funding, but the longer it delays, the more I want to just give it back if it did come. The group’s president is honest and hardworking, as are a small faction of the club’s general population. But a larger portion of the club is actively against putting any work into the club, and just want immediate benefits for themselves. In my American way of thinking, I think they can just leave the club if they don’t want to do what is expected of them to be a member, but that’s not how everyone else sees it. Also, I have a fear that some might actually sabotage any improvements, out of jealousy(I’ve seen it happen in other clubs. My friend’s club had some rabbits. Someone was jealous of the rabbits, but rather than stealing them, or getting their own, they just poisoned the rabbits. Awesome). I’ve been trying to urge the chicken group along, but most of the members feel that they have done enough now, and that they would rather sit back and wait for profits to come. Well, I’m not bringing in $15, 000 to that atmosphere. I’m worried that if I tell them that though, they will put on a happy face to please me, then still not properly maintain the project, and it will still be wasted in the end.
Ugh. Donor money is a sticky situation. There is still so much need….but so much has been spent irresponsibly.
Unrelatedly, a friend of mine at the school wants to write a grant to have internet installed at the school. He is the computer teacher there, and runs an IT club for students. The principal suggested the same when I first arrived, though he wanted it to be an internet café as an income-earner for the school, open to the general public. While earning income for the school is good, of course, my opinion (that I did not express at the time), was that the young men in the neighborhood do not need another method of doing nothing available to them. Many of them do nothing perfectly well already, and if they want to go to town, internet is there. That opinion still stands. However, this new suggestion is to install internet at the school computer lab, for use in teaching, and to give students access to the web. This makes sense, internet is in the school syllabus, yet they don’t have access. You can’t teach search engines, etc, hypothetically, you need hands-on learning. Also, the IT club is half girls (!), and they more than boys need to get comfortable with computers and internet access to stay competitive in the job market. I’d even like to set aside a few hours every week in the lab for girls only, like in the US at the gym when sometimes they have women’s hours only so that women get proper access to the machines and don’t feel shy to ask for help.
My friend the computer teacher has worked with a number of PCVs in the past, and understands sustainability, etc. His plan is to write a grant to buy the equipment and pay for the first month of web access, then charge students 5 dalasi($.25, pocket change) per hour to browse outside of class hours. With over 1500 students at the school, it should easily earn enough to pay the monthly internet bill. What still needs to be worked out, is if/how the school should benefit(it’s a slippery slope, you need the principal’s support to make anything work, but I don’t want him to expect any kickback). If all goes well, we may write a grant through Peace Corps that is funded by friends and family back at home. More on that later.
Wow, so speaking of unfocused, that was one long stream of conscious. I guess when I write it out, it sounds like I have a lot going on. But it doesn’t feel that way in the day to day.
Happy holidays.

Manlafi

2009-12-01T03:52:00.000-08:00

Well here’s something I’d heard of, but never saw until this morning.

Sometimes, when a woman has had a child die in the past, when she has a new child, it is tradition to try to trick God into thinking that she doesn’t want it, and hopefully God won‘t take it. This can be done by naming it “Manlafi” which translates to “Don’t Want” or “Don’t Like.” Or, the family can bring the baby to the bush or the trash heap and leave it there. They then return to deliberate whether or not they want it, then sometimes leave it again, then in the end they take it home.
This morning I was at the neighbor’s house, attending a naming ceremony. They had shaved the baby girl’s head, named her Fatumata, and then we had all eaten porridge. Then, a bunch of older women put the baby in a bucket. She was swaddled and padded with lots of shawls, but she was still in a bucket. Women gathered around and sang and danced to the baby, then an old woman put the bucket on her head and announced that she was going to the market to sell the baby(for how much?, I asked. 100 dalasi. Roughly 4 USD). A crowd of women all went with her. Along the road they would occasionally put the baby bucket down, deliberate whether they wanted to sell it, then they would decide they did, and would continue down the road. I did notice, though this woman had doubtlessly been carrying things on her head her whole life, and could carry whole jugs of water, pans overflowing with cassava, and piles of firewood all with no hands, she kept a hand on the baby bucket on her head at all times. All the while, the people at the party kept assuring me that the baby would be back, they wouldn’t sell it, it was just tradition, etc. In the end, yes indeed, the baby did return.
I also thought this was funny, because when children piss me off, I threaten to sell them all the time. But I usually start with the low price of ten dalasi. You don’t ask too much for a stubborn child.

Manoo

2009-11-19T01:30:00.000-08:00

pronounced "Mah-NOH"

Rice harvest time. Lots of work! Per usual, I was hanging out with the neighbors, but not allowed to help, because ultimately I would mess up the rhythm of the pounding (true enough, I'm terrible at pounding), but the ladies said "Faatu! go get your camera! Tell the American people about rice farming!"

Well, people of America, here it is. Rice was planted at the beginning of the rainy season, and now is ready for harvest. The ladies go and chop the tops of the stalks off, then pound them to get the kernels off. Then, all the kernels are pounded with a mortar and pestle to remove the hull. it's lots of work, and it amazed me how little rice resulted. rice is a staple food in the gambia, but really, most of it is imported. the family across the street eats three 50 Kilo bags of rice a month, and there is no way they planted and harvested enough to last them. despite some really creative land uses, people plant in tiny little unusable areas AND big rice fields, there is not enough land, and not enough people willing to cultivate in order to be fully sustainable for the amount of people in the country. its a scary problem.

Whoa! One Year!

2009-11-03T05:27:00.000-08:00

This coming November 6 marks my one-year anniversary in The Gambia. How about that? In some ways I feel like I just got here, and others it feels like I’ve been here much longer. What I guess is strange is that instead of counting up, now things may feel like a count down. Scary! But otherwise this anniversary is cause for celebration. Out of the 25 volunteers in our training group, 22 remain. Quite an accomplishment, I think.
What else have I accomplished? This is always a difficult thing to assess, and can either be depressing or comforting, depending on my mood. My motivation for joining Peace Corps was mainly for personal development, and to be helpful and friendly in any way I could to the community into which I was placed. With such vague goals, how could one help but to be successful? Honestly, I’m proud of what I’ve done. I’ve lived in a culture very different from my own, and adapted myself to it. I’ve become functional in a foreign language, though sadly I think I will always be able to hear and understand far more than I can express in response. I’ve made many friends and valuable relationships. I think I’ve been helpful in working through the grant-writing process with a community group, and I think they could do it on their own in the future. I hope I’ve been helpful in encouraging young people to make healthy choices, and to think critically. I hope I’ve been a good example of a friendly American, who knows how to do hard work. I hope I’ve been able to provide alternate perspective in conversations. Hell, I hope I’ve been able to share with people as much as they have shared with me.
Some personal qualities that I’ve found here, and value, is that I find my capacity for joy is much greater, or perhaps my threshold for it is just lower, but either way I can find happiness and reasons to laugh in the smallest of situations. Small things, like cold watermelon, can make me immensely incurably deliriously happy(The reverse can also be true, unfortunately. Huge variations in mood, even throughout the course of a day isn’t instability. Its just Peace Corps, and from my research, we all go through it). That said, I find I have more patience here, even when things are rough, and have been better able to focus on the things that I have control over, and accept the things in life over which I have no control, thereby letting them go. This has lead to a lot less stress. I hope these are skills I can retain when I return home.
What do I miss most? Anonymity, hands down. I miss being able to leave my house and blend into the crowd. I miss sitting on a street and people-watching without being stared at or approached. But I suppose there is plenty of time for that later.
I don’t feel like making this some big heart-searching moment, and if I did I don’t really want to post it on the internet. But hey, 12 months down, 15 more to go.

Oh man though, I’ve never had a pedicure in my life, but I think I could go for one when I get home. Because seriously, someone has got to turn these hooves back into feet. ;-)

Workin'

2009-10-26T06:17:00.000-07:00

Work has been busy busy lately, which has been nice. Other than discussing the inculcation of ideas to my chicken group members (see previous entry), my work with the Peer Health Club at the local high school has really taken off.
After sitting in on their meetings last year, trying to get a handle on their premise (“Learn and educate others”), watching them bicker amongst themselves, and seeing them not show up to events or do any outreach, I decided to arrange a Health and Lifeskills curriculum for them, deciding that writing skits is really not my strong suit, especially for people who don’t want to perform them. But if I gave them the correct information, they could do with it what they wanted. They could organize their own skits and spread the word formally, or they could chat with their friends and know that they had the right info. Well, the group that loves to point fingers and evade responsibility has been surprisingly willing to come to my activity sessions. They are even getting used to me wanting things to be interactive. Every other Friday, I ask them to meet for an hour after school, we do a health-related activity, have some juice, and go home. They’ve liked it. They even went so far as to use the info to write a skit and perform it for the school. Good on you, guys!
Last week we were invited to compete in a Drama and Quiz competition on the topic of HIV/AIDS. It was pretty typical notice….two days notice before the event was to occur, the invitation did not include the venue or starting hour, nor any information on how many were to participate, or how long the drama could be. Nonetheless, my group stepped up. I was proud of them. They wrote their own drama, and rehearsed it. We went over HIV/AIDS facts, discussed modes of transmission, prevention, etc.
On the day of the event, they all showed up “on time” (9 AM sharp=11:30ish), and did very well. We answered all our quiz questions correctly. * They performed with gusto. The drama itself didn’t make sense…and I offered that feedback. They performed it well, and I was thrilled that they included song, but the premise didn’t make sense(who is ever going to make the conscious choice to get HIV? No one, the choice is never that cut and dried), and honestly it spread a strong message of fear, which is counter-productive. Nonetheless, they did it all themselves, and after I said my peace about how it spread the wrong message, I felt it was best to just support them and be the best geeked-out, soccer mom supporter ever.
*this is something that I’m wondering. They can memorize facts and repeat them incredibly well, its just something they’re used to as a part of their schooling, but I’m not convinced that they actually believe them. For example, ask them if you can be infected by sharing a food bowl with someone who is infected, and they all will answer no, and explain why using all the right terms. But when push comes to shove, I’m not sure they would eat with someone who is positive. The requisite behavior change is not there, even though they “know” all the right facts. Is it that they have memorized the right words, but don’t know their meaning? Is it just that they don’t believe the books (and me)? Not sure, but while I am proud of their sudden burst of activity, my work in this area is not done.

All in all, we qualified to proceed to the finals, which will be held next Friday. We have to present a new play, so hopefully this one will focus on treatment and sensitivity to those infected. Wish us luck.

Tiyoo!!

2009-10-26T06:16:00.000-07:00

Tiyoo!

Pronounced “tee-YOH” Peanuts!!

Its peanut harvest time, and like the corn harvest, there is much to be done. Men and boys pull up the peanut plants, and dangling from the roots are all the peanuts. They then haul them home in big bundles and in wheelbarrows. The women’s job is to pull the peanuts off the roots, a job that takes several days to get through the harvest. It’s dirty work in both departments, but I’ve enjoyed sitting with the women. It’s a good time for chatting, and the old women are downright hilarious. Many a pleasant afternoon has been spent this way.
Later, the nuts will be shelled. Some will be pounded raw for use in rice porridge, some will be ground into peanut butter, and then made into “durango” a peanut sauce, and served over rice. Still others will be roasted and sold by the roadside as snack food. EVERYONE is harvesting, which means there are also a lot of peanuts around. Everyone I help has given me some to bring home, people I pass on the street give me handfuls. The thing is, peanuts don’t emerge from the ground honey-roasted and lightly salted. Raw peanuts? Not for me….they sort of have the same texture and flavor as raw potatoes. I usually give these gifts to the first child I see after I have left whomever gave them to me.
This picture with the kids was sort of funny to try and capture. These children live across the street from me, and there is usually about 17 of them aping in front of the camera wanting their picture taken. Its pretty overwhelming. But today, it was just Tulai and Babucar around, and they were shy. It went like this “Ok, Tulai, hold the peanuts…now look at me. Ok, now Babucar look at me…ok, smile!! Ok, no, look at me. And Tulai look at me. Hey, Babucar, look at me. Ok, smile!” None of them turned out, it was just too much to orchestrate, the looking and the smiling and the peanut-holding. But they are some of my favorite neighborhood kids.
So that’s that. Lots of peanut work. But you know its time for a break when you start to pop all the rotten, hollow peanuts and think “wow, this is fun like bubble wrap!”

Inculcate!

2009-10-26T06:11:00.000-07:00

Hey all,

“We seek to inculcate within members a feeling of brotherhood and popular participation in poultry projects…”
“Inculcate?” Really? Actually, I’ve encountered this word twice in the past week…and that’s pretty much two more times than in the whole of the rest of my life, and I thought it was worth a mention. I’ve thought a lot about language since being here, and the ideas that language is meant to relate, and the status symbol of using one language over another.
The chicken group that I’ve been working with has been on hold for a little while. Yes, or grant was approved by the grant committee, but before we could get the money, the man whose job it is to give final approval and write us a check was released from his job. We’re waiting for the UNDP to hire someone else. We’ve been waiting for some time…but we’re patient. This is development. Anyhoo, we’re using our time wisely, to review and revise our group’s constitution. Its written in very flowery, wordy, English and I’m not at all convinced that the general members of the group understand it. We’ve had trouble with people not following the rules laid out in the constitution, so I suggested that maybe revising the wording to make it more straightforward might be a step in the right direction. We seek to inculcate a lot of ideas into the membership. I wonder if we might try to encourage these ideas, or foster them. The other word that was repeated unnecessarily much was “quorum.” Quorum, quorum, quorum. Its not that I don’t know what it means, its not that it was used incorrectly. It’s just that its such an odd word to hear from non-native English speakers. Heck, I’m a native speaker, and I’ve never had need to use it. In fact, I think it lends itself rather well to made-up meanings. (Harry and Ron were having quite a difficult time in Herbology class this term. They had yet to harvest enough quorum to complete their potions. All of a sudden, the seed pods with which they were working burst all over them. “Ugh! I’m covered in quorum and it‘s burning my skin!” yelled Ron. See?) So the goal of the meetings with my group has been to simplify, simplify, simplify, an idea that wasn’t as readily accepted as I thought it might be. I’ve over and over been asking, “yes, but what does that mean? What do you mean by that?” but we’re working through it, slowly slowly.
Oddly, later in the week, I again encountered more people wishing to inculcate ideas or qualities in other people. I stopped by just to greet a headmaster at the local primary school. He was working on revising the school’s mission statement, and wanted me to look it over and give suggestions. According to the statement, the school wishes to inculcate in students all the necessary tools to be successful in life. When I asked just what tools these might be, he listed academic skills, which is great. When I asked if there were any personal qualities which he thought were important to inculcate in the students as well. It was interesting what we came up with. We agreed on such qualities as honesty and a good work ethic. But when I suggested inculcating such qualities as independence and self-sufficiency, these were met with reticence. Even when he was trying to get a word out of me, and defined it as “being able to provide for yourself and your family without resorting to banditry” So self-sufficiency? No, he really didn’t like that idea, it was too focused on the self. Interesting. Yet another time when I am forced to remember how damn American I am, how American my values are, and indeed how well inculcated I was with them throughout my childhood.

Anyway, with both of these documents that my counterparts are trying to write, it was very important to them that they were in English, and even more so, in complicated English. It’s a status thing. But I’ve wondered for awhile just how much is lost in translation. From English to Mandinka, I can get the words right, and surface ideas across, but I think that important connotation, much of which cannot be really explained is lost. Its more obvious to me when it is someone speaking English for whom it is not their native tongue. Even if their words are correct, sometimes I am still pretty sure that what they have said is not what they meant. Or what it means to me, is not what they meant to say exactly. I’m sure it goes the other way. What are we not communicating to each other?
Oh man, I set the goal of saying inculcate 10 times in this entry.
Inculcate!

2009-10-12T10:46:00.000-07:00

Hey, just thought I’d post some more pics of my fam being great. The past few weeks we’ve been harvesting the corn. Its maize, really, so it’s a lot tougher than sweet corn at home. I thought maybe that if I boiled the hell out of it, it would taste like sweet corn. It doesn’t. We dry it in the sun, then pop all the kernels off with our thumbs (as shown in these pictures), then those are dried fully, then pounded and cooked. I’ve actually not seen what the final food product looks or tastes like. The popping-the-kernels-off-the-cob time is a good time for chatting, but man your thumbs get tired.

It's Fatumata!!

2009-10-12T10:38:00.000-07:00

Hey all, I was just going through some pictures from the summer, and I realized that I forgot to post this one. Fatumata was born sometime in August, to one of my host mother’s sisters. It was pretty amazing, I got to hold her when she was only about six hours old. In this picture, she must be about one week old, I’m pretty sure this was taken on the day of her naming ceremony (notice the shaven head).
Also, I want to draw attention to her awesome Burt and Ernie eyebrows. Women here shave their eyebrows and draw them on in bright colors (gold! Metallic purple!)when they dress up, but I think its pretty atrocious when they do it to babies. Atrocious or awesome. My favorite is when the baby moves while they draw them on, so all day the brows are uneven and looks like the baby is smirking. Anyway, it’s a fashion choice from which no baby is safe.

hey check out these nasty spiders!

2009-10-02T07:41:00.000-07:00

lately it seems like these guys are everywhere! gross, hey? their legspan gets up to five inches! luckily, i've never seen them hanging out on walls, or lurking under beds being creepy. they mostly stay up in webs up in the trees or power lines. i'm pretty spider intolerant, so if i found one in the house, he would probably get a book dropped on him.

Hey, lets talk about Ramadan

2009-09-24T14:11:00.000-07:00

Well, that was quite a month. Kind of glad it’s over, to be honest. I’m ready for everybody to get back to work. Glad, I experienced it though. While I was fasting, I started my days early, around 5:30, with a big scrambled egg sandwich, coffee, and glass of water, then I would head back to bed and sleep for as long as I could. After that, the day continued as usual, though I tried to sleep during the 2pm to 4 pm hours. That’s Gambian lunch time, and was so very difficult. The key was to stay busy. Then, around 7:20 in the evenings, we would all break fast with bread (that’s one thing The Gam gets right, their bread is great), really sugary tea, and a dish made with (usually) noodles, potatoes, and some sort of protein-- chicken, eggs, or beans--cooked in onions and other spices. These dishes are great. Once we had beef. Seriously, BEEF. Mmmm. Then, my fam usually served a sugared down kool-aid type drink(I‘m pretty sure we all ate our weight in sugar this month), then dinner was served an hour later.

Overall, I fasted for 7 days, though while I was traveling, I sort of fasted by default merely because I didn’t want to eat in front of anyone who wasn’t eating, and if I didn’t have a chance to run behind a tree for a drink of water or something, then I had to wait until break fast time,. So maybe I fasted for longer, like 12 days. Either way, I lost more weight than I consider healthy and decided it wasn’t worth it.

The final day of Ramadan, called Koriteh, is a major feast day, everyone gets dressed up, we eat lots of good food and have a good time. In the evenings, people (usually women and children) walk around asking for “saliboo” or prayer gifts. They want money, usually I give candy, but its also totally appropriate to give prayers. “May Allah give you long life!” is not quite as satisfying as some dalasis. Sorry.

It was funny to me what rules people chose to follow during Ramadan, or what they were willing to compromise on. For one, people were spitting everywhere. God doesn’t want you to eat or drink anything, including your own spit, so you’re hawking everywhere? Gross. Also, people aren’t supposed to listen to any music throughout the month, but I know I heard it. People aren’t supposed to smoke, tobacco or marijuana, ever, but I know I saw and smelled that too. People aren’t supposed to have romantic relations with their girlfriends or boyfriends (spouses are fine, I think), and my PCV friends who have Gambian partners told me that this rule was adhered to without fail. I’m not judging people for breaking the rules, I’m just saying that if it was me, and all sins being equal, and I was looking to break some rules but not others, I’d prioritize differently. ;-) Food and affection from the opposite sex would be WAY higher on the list than music and cigarettes. People who are sick, old, or traveling, women who are pregnant, breastfeeding, or menstruating, are all NOT SUPPOSED TO FAST. The Koran says so. But women did. In fact, all the women who I know who are pregnant or breastfeeding fasted. It pissed me off.* They just don’t want to make it up later in the year, when everyone else is eating. People in general liked to tell me how many more days than me they fasted, and it felt a little competitive. When I explained that I tried for sake of experience, and that its not my religion, nor a requirement for me, they backed down, but it did seem a little like they took some satisfaction from being stronger than me. This isn’t that surprising. I know religious groups in the US who enjoy being ‘holier than though’ too.

*Actually, I would say that behavior change communication, or BCC, is probably the most difficult and frustrating part of this job. There are plenty of situations where I think “If they just did THIS, their lives would be so much easier, safer, more efficient, BETTER. Soap for hand-washing, sending girls to school, smoking cigarettes even though your family can’t afford vegetables. It’s not that people don’t know the health or life benefits of these choices, they’ll tell you that what they are doing is not good, but they do it anyway. Talking to these women about their fasting choices was just a pisser. They KNOW they are harming their babies. They agree with me that its not good to fast. But they do it anyway. I talk to their husbands, and their husbands talk to them, and they still refuse. Children don’t fast, but they are forcing their developing fetuses to fast. If I’d have known this was going to be a problem, I would have tried to tackle it earlier before the month started, maybe organize for them all to eat now, then all fast TOGETHER in a few months.
To put this in perspective, how many things have we all been encouraged to do, and know we should, but don’t? I don’t floss. Every dentist visit of my whole life, I’ve been told to floss but I don’t ( I also have no cavities). I don’t have a regular exercise routine, I’m just blessed with a good metabolism, but I’m sure that will kick me in the ass later in life. I don’t always wear a seatbelt sometimes. See, I get it, just knowing the possible consequences of your actions is not enough, there is more to behavior change, and it can’t be forced on people.

So, in all, Ramadan was an experience worth having, but I’m sure glad its over.

**Whoa, re-reading this post it seems a little disjointed. I wrote it while fasting, so maybe that’s the reason. Anyway, when I started being able to eat again, my mood and focus improved immeasurably.

I'm back

2009-09-19T08:52:00.000-07:00

Hey all, I’ve not been in the mood to communicate much lately, but I might as well write about my trip up-country. It was exactly what I needed, I was able to see friends, see parts of the country that I hadn’t yet seen, and do some thinking on development.
I began by visiting a friend in a Fula village on the north bank of the country, sort of in the middle. Her village is fairly small, and is about 12 K from the main road. Transport only comes through her village twice a week. That means if you’ve got places to be any other time, its either bike it, walk it, or make really good friends with someone with a horse cart(as it happens, not a foolproof method. On the night before I needed to leave, it rained heavily such that the horse cart could not make it through the mud. We walked it). What struck me first was how much more green things were there than where I live. There is less concrete--houses, roads, or fences--, less trash (plastic shopping bags, plastic candy wrappers, plastic water bags, little tiny plastic bags used to contain popsicles, batteries), and just more open space for farming. It was gorgeous. When I noted this to my friend, she just looked at me and replied, “duh, they can’t afford that.” Also, people just seemed more genuine. They were all friendly, but no one asked me for anything. They all just asked where I was staying in the country, and how long I would stay here. It was really refreshing in that respect. Also, no bumsters or wanna-be thugs.
After leaving there, I headed to the very far eastern end of the country, and stayed with two different friends there. I found the same to be true in both of their villages, everything was greener, people were nicer. Yes, things are more remote(we had to walk 15 K to get to the nearest weekly market), but the atmosphere was also just more pleasant. Also, there is so much more biodiversity in their forestry up there. Around me, its all mango, cashew, and oil palm. But up there is a huge variety of plant life, some edible, some not, but it just seems more healthy. My friends reported that the attitude towards development was different as well. Since no tourists go up that way, and very very few development dollars get that far up-country, people know that if they want something done, they will have to do it themselves. There weren’t nearly so many young men just sitting around under trees trying to tell me their name is 50 Cent, they’re too busy fixing fences to protect the crops. On the other hand, the people there are very busy in terms of everyday survival, so sometimes there just isn’t anything in terms of “development” going on, they don’t have time to have a meeting to discuss the health of the community or sending girls to school, and I think sometimes my friends feel bored and isolated.
So that was my brief comparison on development in The Gambia. In my opinion, Western Region of The Gam has had too much of it, and this has killed the incentive of many of it’s citizens. They’ve got more stuff, and expectations for stuff, than they have the education and understanding of what to do with it. But on the other hand, there is always something to do if I need it. I can get fruit and vegetables whenever I want them(even if I have to buy them from a wanna-be gangster named 50 Cent), I can get a car whenever I want it. And my people are here. It felt nice to be home.

2009-08-23T13:16:00.001-07:00

Hey folks at home. August has been a challenging month for a variety of reasons, but I’m living through it, and its almost done. Work has been slow, my cat died, and while I’m reasonably sure that the group who raises chickens, with whom I have been working, will be awarded the grant that we requested from the United Nations Development Project, it’s a little scary. This is, of course, very exciting; we worked very hard on it and did lots of revisions. However, now the REAL WORK will begin, and I feel a lot of pressure and responsibility for this $15, 000. We’re digging a well, we’re fencing their land, we’re buying, vaccinating, and raising 450 layer hens. However, the very day after I had learned that we would likely get the money (and the very day my cat died), I heard some drama from the history of the group, which makes me question their integrity. Seriously, guys, we’ve been working together for a number of months. This information would have been helpful, oh, any day but today. With careful management, this project could be profitable for the community, and with only a few people slacking, it could go to hell. So we’ll see.
Other work has been slow. I’m looking forward to school starting up again, I liked working with the kids at the secondary school.
When I’ve been feeling down, or frustrated, or just plain bored, it’s never anything outwardly very meaningful that makes me feel better, and I have to keep reminding myself that. It’s usually something really small, like teaching the kids across the street Itsy Bitsy Spider (and man, we can sing it like mo-fos, let me tell you), or seeing how many clothes pins we can to clip each other’s faces (you’d be surprised how many, actually). The other day, I went over to a co-workers house, he wasn’t there, but I chatted to his wife for a long time. She seemed genuinely happy to have me there, and not just because I’m white and therefore might sponsor her children to school, and not just putting up with me because she knows my host mother. We chatted for a long time and she made lunch. It was just nice, being appreciated for me.
So that’s that. I’m out of here.

Of course I can do that! Look at these muscles!

2009-08-23T13:14:00.000-07:00

So one more thing that has made August difficult, and I figured it deserves an update all to itself. I felt that this month more than others, I heard the phrase “you can’t do this” more often than in previous months. This could because now is the time for lots of farming and manual labor, but when I try to join, I am confronted by “you cannot do this” or “you are not able” more often than before.
This pisses me off. It turns my day bad. It took a few minutes of clear-thinking to realize just how American my reaction is. Really, maybe it’s a very American experience to spring forth from the womb triumphant with the inherent knowledge that with enough hard work, one can do anything. I‘m told this is not a universal experience, so maybe people don’t realize how insulting it is to me to be told I’m not capable of something. Also maybe I need to chill out. You’re right, when I do my laundry, I can’t make the squilch-squilch noise that the women here make with it. And for God’s sake, I don’t know WHY I can’t, I use enough soap and rub the fabric together with my wrists and knuckles, but it just doesn’t make the noise. Because my laundering is silent, my host mother, sisters, and neighbors all assume that I am not getting it clean, so they come over and take the clothes out of my hands, bend down and do it for me. So now I do the laundry behind my house. I’m not running around with stains on my clothes, they smell fine. And I did it myself. So there.
But what about the things that I CAN do? For example, I was at the preparations for a baby-naming ceremony, and women were gathered around an enormous cooking pot frying panketos (Balls of fried sweet dough not unlike a donut. Fresh, they are delicious. Day-old and they squeak when you bite into them, and probably bounce like tennis balls). They asked me if I could do this. I replied, hesitantly, that I could. My reasoning is that while my first few might not be perfectly round, with a few minutes of practice, I think I could drop dough into the hot oil, roll it around with the three-foot-long spoon, and retrieve them. The women all argued that this is very hard work, the fire is very hot, and that I could not do it. But they also wouldn’t let me try.
Am I just being super immature here? When I know I’m not capable of doing something, I’m pretty open about it. Can’t make the squilch-squilch noise, though I think my clothes are clean enough without it. Can’t fix anyone’s computer problems. Ever. Can’t be an astronaut when I grow up….
So I was left feeling unsure about what the proper response should be. I mean no disrespect when I say that I am capable of something, and in no way mean to imply that the work is not difficult. Yes, I can dig holes with a shovel for many hours, but I’m glad that it’s not my job. It is hard work. I can distinguish weeds from crops, and can pull them by hand or with a hoe, but I’m glad that it’s not what I do day in and day out. It’s hard work. But to say aloud that I am not capable of something just jars me, and goes against my very up-bringing.
So that’s that. I’m going to explore up-country for a little while. Then we’re getting new volunteers, and I get new site mates! And then school starts again, thank God, and maybe we can get these GD chickens up and running.
Oh, and I decided that I will fast this Ramadan (It started Saturday the 22), at least while I‘m in my own community. My reasoning is that in the evenings, people eat lots of really really good food. While my host family would never exclude me from these dishes, if I were not fasting, I would feel that I didn’t quite deserve it. And would be nice to have that feeling of solidarity with those around me. And I can do it. So don’t tell me that I can’t. It pisses me off.
*Addendum: After my first day of fasting, my conclusions are that the thirst is WAY worse than the hunger, though at no time did I stop sweating or feel cold, so I think I was ok. The hours from 2-4 pm are worst, probably because that is Gambian lunch time, and when I am accustomed to eating. And the breaking the fast food is AMAZING. Totally worth it.

2009-08-16T07:28:00.001-07:00

Hey ya’ll. It’s been awhile. The last couple of weeks have been sort of up and down. Work has been work, etc. My cat died a really nasty poisoned-thrashing-around-on-the-floor death. In a sort of mixed blessing, I’m reasonably sure that the group who raises chickens, with whom I have been working, will be awarded the grant that we requested from the United Nations Development Project.

Actually. To be honest I don’t feel like updating right now, but I thought I should because it had been a few weeks. I’m alive though, so until next time.

Hey toubab! Aaaaaany minty!

2009-07-31T06:44:00.000-07:00

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.

Sex and Ramadan, they're not related.

2009-07-18T10:01:00.000-07:00

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...

2009-07-18T10:00:00.000-07:00

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.

2009-07-13T05:04:00.000-07:00

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?

2009-07-05T07:04:00.000-07:00

2009-07-05T06:48:00.001-07:00

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!

Hey ya'll, how ya lookin?

2009-06-30T06:33:00.000-07:00

Hey look, its my and my fam. This is my host sister Nyima (or Maa, for short) and my brothers Bubacar (Buba) and Monlamin (Amie), all dressed up.

I was all like, hey Darbo, is this clothes line in the way? Should we move?

No! Nothing is in the way!

Ok, well we still look good. ;-)

I bless the rains down in Aaaaafricaaaaa....

2009-06-30T06:27:00.000-07:00

Anybody? Toto? No? Ok.

Well rainy season is finally here, which means that mango season(oh hell yes) is also here and hungry season is not far behind (the time when the dry season harvest is running short, and the rainy season crops have not matured). The rains have truly been a blessing because during the day not only has it been hot, but its been incredibly humid. Mostly the rains have come at night, sometimes they last for hours, accompanied by lots of thunder and lightning. The downside is that even though the rains are pleasant when they come, as soon as they’re over it goes right back to being humid, and I go right back to laying in a puddle of my sweat. Nothing is dry. My skin is never dry, my clothes are never dry even when left in the sun, everything smells moldy, food goes bad more quickly. And there is more insects. Right now all the streets are a big muddy mess such that is impossible to get anywhere without wading through sticky mud. That said, it is nice to have everything green around me, rather than dust colored. Despite it’s discomforts, I like this season.

Mangos are out in full force. They are so plentiful that many rot beneath the trees. I had big plans for a mango-drying initiative in order to preserve them throughout the year. But as I stated above, getting anything dry is a problem. The mosquito-net tent that worked well for drying bananas has not been so successful with mangos just because its so humid out. Even when left in the sun, the fruit just ferments out there. So I’m not sure what I’m going to have to do about that. Probably just eat some more mangos. Think it over.

Hey, check out this bug. He’s about the size of my thumbnail and only comes out after the rains. Pretty, isn’t he?

Addendum: Hey, know what’s fun? Having it pour torrential rain, sideways, plus having the shits due to probably eating too many mangos, therefore having to go out to the pit latrine every 15 minutes or so.
Lesson learned.

2009-06-16T07:17:00.002-07:00

Hey all,

So I’ve been intentionally vague about work in my previous entries. I think I was waiting for something to be successful before I talked about it to my followers at home, but where is the learning experience in that?
So here is my recent activity. I’ve spent quite a bit of time in the past few months working with an organization who raises chickens for meat, and wants to expand into egg production. The group, especially their president, is pretty great. They understand the problem in The Gambia’s economy, in that they import EVERYTHING, and export very little. So wanting to produce food locally is their attempt at fighting the problem, at least on the small scale to begin with. They are very hard-working and committed. So I’ve spent a lot of time writing a grant proposal with the group’s president. Overall, I’m lucky. Given a little extra time, he reads and writes English, has some computer experience, and is a very very hard worker. I know that even when it makes me want to pull my hair out(oh jesus, it would be so much FASTER if I could just do it myself), writing the grant together is a good learning experience for him, and hopefully I’m transferring skills that will be left behind when I leave.
But also, it’s a good learning experience for me. I don’t know anything about chicken farming. What is a de-beaking machine? (it cuts the beaks off all the chickens)Do you really need one? (yes, because sometimes they peck each other to death) What are the risks and benefits of imported versus locally-produced feed? (imported is of much higher quality, but it is expensive and will sometimes be inexplicably unavailable. Locally produced feed will always be available, but is difficult to mix correctly, may cause inferior eggs, or cause the chickens to stop laying).
But the real problem I’m encountering, is now that we have written and re-written drafts and drafts of this document, is that I don’t think that the project can be sustainable. After crunching the numbers on the cost-benefit analysis, from how many eggs they can be expected to collect, to how much they will sell for, the group stands to make only a minimal profit if everything goes according to plan and nothing nothing goes wrong (and of course something will go wrong. That is life and this is The Gambia). These chickens just can’t compete with the imported gacked-out-on-steroids chickens.
So what to do? If I could just will it into being, I would love this project to be successful. I trust that my counterpart will do everything in his power to make it so, but I just don’t think it will be enough. And its irresponsible to put money into something that is bound to fail, no matter how much you like the person you’re working with. So do I tell them, and try to convince them to change tactics? What if they don’t want to? Do I continue to write this proposal with them, and when it gets rejected, blame it in the grant committee? Will my counterpart lose all of his idealism and quit?

Suggestions?

2009-06-16T07:17:00.001-07:00

Hey so I was going to be done posting about Spain, but then our return trip was so entirely noteworthy that I decided it was worthy of another entry.

On our way to the airport in Madrid, we ran into another PCV from The Gambia, Jax, on her way back from a trip to Morocco, and as it turns out, we were to fly back to Dakar on the same flight. Awesome, not only was it great to see her and exchange stories, but she also speaks Wolof and so would prove helpful. Blahblahblah, flight was fine. Then, we arrived in Dakar at 9 pm their time, though it was 11 pm by our Spain-adjusted bodies. And immediately there was no doubt that we were back in West Africa.
Our original plan had been to sleep in the airport terminal until morning, then try to arrange transport home, but being so tired of traveling (and worried that we might get kicked out), we decided to try to arrange for a night bus to the border, hoping to make it to the north bank in time for the first ferry. Jax negotiated very hard on our behalf to get a car to take us, finally they settled on a price that was only slightly more expensive than what we had paid to get there, we agreed considering the driver would be going all night. Also, this transport company seemed somewhat legit, considering they had an office at the airport, we didn’t want to get stuck in some shady carpark in the middle of the night.
At this point, we realized that we did not have enough CFA (pronounced “say-fah”, the official currency in Senegal) to pay for the trip, but many of us had some Euro left over. But where to change it at 10 pm? On the street, of course. So, without much difficulty at all, we found a man on the street right outside the airport willing to change our Euro. We weren’t sure how much the exchange SHOULD be, but all the people we talked to seemed to agree. We exchanged bills, but then wanted to exchange coins, only to be told that coins were exchanged at a much worse rate than the bills were. Why? Money is money. We told him that that was BS, and when he asked for more coins to make up for the balance, we told him “mbang!” (while sharply flapping our arms down at our sides once, much like a chicken dance, it means “I refuse!”) and he burst out laughing and responded “You refuse? Ok then, we’re friends.” Sounds like shady practice to me, but what do you want from changing money on the street.
Once we got that sorted out, we returned to load onto our van and get going. Before we could take off, the driver and the man with whom we had been negotiating asked Jax, our Wolof speaker to come into the office so that they could take her passport number and giver her a receipt. When she got into the office, they locked the door and proceeded to berate her in Wolof. They then tried to add 30,000 CFA to our already agreed price. Jax was only able to get out of the office when she said that she needed to go back to the car to get money. Instead she returned with the only male traveling in our group, the men changed their tune, and we got on the road. It was around 11 pm.
As if there hadn’t been quite enough hints that this was not a safe choice, the ride was a nightmare. Our driver, while very nice, drove like a maniac. He was going at absolutely ridiculous speeds, careening around potholes, and swerving around other drivers. We would ask him to slow down, but bit by bit he would speed up again. There were many times that I seriously questioned whether I would rather die in my sleep, or rather stay awake to see my death barreling towards me at breakneck speeds. On the upside, I can now say “slowly slowly” in four languages.
By the grace of God, we arrived at the border at around 4:30 am, did the passport thing, and arranged for another car. The new driver indeed took advantage of the fact that it was early, we are foreigners carrying backpacks, and it was raining. But we negotiated a price and started for the riverbank, 20 K away. Along the way, Jax wanted to get out and walk to her village. It was only 2 k off the road, and she was anxious to get home. The driver wouldn’t let her out. He said that it was dark and raining, therefore not safe, but if we doubled the price, he would take her all the way. What? Double the price to add another 4 K to our 20 K trip? No way dude, we’re already paying you too much. But he continued to be rude, he wouldn’t let her out, and it really was insulting. Seriously dude, we’re here giving up two years of our lives to help develop your country, and all you can do is be a greedy asshole? We could be home earning money, having a normal support network of friends, having a normal romantic life, but we’re here instead trying to bring some good into the world. F you and F that noise. We raised such a ruckus that he finally let her leave, but he was really pissed at us for not giving him more money. Ugh, its not that I want special favors, I’ll pay a fair price for fair work, I just don’t want to be taken advantage of. Asshole.
We finally got to the ferry, waited in the rain to be let on. I fell asleep on board, in the rain, because I was just that tired.
When we reached the other side, the steady rain had turned into a downpour, and again we needed to arrange for a car to bring us to the PC hostel. We arranged a price with one car, and began loading in. The price was again elevated due to the rain and the fact that we were all carrying luggage. But then, another driver offered a price that was half of what we agreed to. We gave our driver a chance to reduce, he refused, so we unloaded our luggage and started to get into the new car. Our driver got mad and started yelling at us and at our new driver. Some of us loaded into the new car, but then the other driver physically blocked the rest of us from getting in. So we’re stuck standing in the downpour, holding our bags, while the two drivers yell and shove each other in the street over who gets to drive us, and at what price. This went on for about ten minutes, a crowd gathered, it was great. We finally were able to get the people OUT of the car who had gotten in, and we got another car. And paid a small fortune to be dropped right at our doorstep.
So at the late hour of 9 am, we all passed out, muddy and exhausted.
Dear West Africa,
Thanks for all your help.
Whitney

time to get back to work...

2009-06-13T18:20:00.000-07:00

Hey all,

Heading back to The Gambia tomorrow, and for the most part I'm looking forward to getting back to my house, getting back to my fam, and getting back to work.
But Madrid was a blast. The things I was most pleased about was seeing pieces of art that I had studied in college, but only seen in books, never in real life. While here, I saw "Guernica" by Picasso, "The Garden of Earthly Delights" and "The Haywain" both by Bosch. They were all huge!! I was really impressed merely by the size of the works, but then to be able to analyze the detail was really fascinating. I also saw a variety of others, but those three were most poignant in my mind.
Oh boy, now who is ready for a flight, followed by a night at the airport, then a looooong ride in a car, then a horsecart ride, then etc.....?
here we go!

Madrid

2009-06-09T12:19:00.000-07:00

just a quick note to say that Madrid is a fabulous city. I'm pretty sure I've got about as many picture from Spain in four days as I've got from The Gambia in seven months. I figure I spend half my time trying to convince people I'm NOT a tourist when in The Gambia, but here I can just embrace the fact that I am one, and its ok to take pictures of every single building.

Thus far I've

Gone to the modern art museum (twice!)
Seen the cathedral
Seen "Carmen" done by the Flamenco Ballet of Madrid
Taken pictures of probably 50 buildings
Drank sangria ;-)

Here's some pictures from around. Enjoy!

2009-06-05T02:23:00.000-07:00

HeyguesswhatI'minMadrid!!

yes, its that exciting, and i'm pretty sure i've slept all of two hours in the last 32 or so. our travels began with a 10-hour journey, including 4 cars, a ferry, and a horse cart to get us from Fajara to the Dakar airport. Hey good story, no one in Senegal speaks Mandinka, and none of us spoke French or Wolof.

This morning we landed at 4 am in Madrid, and here we are. My plans include eating all things not rice, being clean, checking out the architecture, drinking red wine, being clean, dancing, downloading illegal movies and music from the fast internet, and being clean. Honestly, this is going to be fabulous.

Play ball!!! Or something like it!!

2009-06-03T07:23:00.000-07:00

So something I’ve learned is that a majority of the Peace Corps experience is teaching skills which one is only mildly comfortable with oneself. For example, I don’t know much about computers, but I can use Microsoft Word. I know a little bit about running a small business, albeit in an American context, so I do my best to give sound advice.

The latest manifestation of me offering my meager experience and skill set, and being treated as an expert is that now I am coaching softball. Mind you, I played back when I was 11 and 12, and those were two awkward summers. The hand-eye coordination was never there, nor was the attention span. Even so, while I may have been able to throw reasonably well at the time, those skills are long gone through lack of practice. Nonetheless, some organization affiliated with the Olympic Committee here in the Gambia is spending money to organize sandlot softball teams, and while there are two Gambian coaches, neither of them has ever played before either, nor do they know the rules, so my PCV friend and I are doing our best to guide the group.

How to do that? I know what good throwing technique looks like, but I can’t demonstrate. I know what a good swing looks like, but I can’t actually connect with the ball (actually any improvement was good here, many swung the bat in a downward motion like an ax). When I was learning all these skills, my coach or father would stand directly behind me, holding the bat with me, and guide me through the swing, but in this conservative society that doesn’t seem right for me to wrap my arms around an adolescent boy, but words sometimes fail, what to do? I do know the rules fairly well, but how to adequately explain them without the language? And there are a lot of nuances, that seem very logical to me, but may not if you hadn‘t grown up with it--you can run through first base but not through any of the others. You can’t throw the ball AT the runner to get them out. What if the batter hits the ball, the ball hits the first baseman, then bounces foul? Is it foul, or fair? What about if your ball is an unripe mango?

I’m especially happy when girls show up, even if its inconvenient. They are always late, or absent entirely from morning practice, only showing up in the evening. While their brothers are free to roam the neighborhoods and engage in pick-up games, the girls are home fetching water, cooking, sweeping, and doing the family’s laundry. So while it is irritating having to re-teach all the skills over and over, I know its not their fault. And I’m pretty proud of them for wanting to participate.

Overall, its been fun, and we did finally get equipment, though not nearly enough to have 40 or 50 kids practice. I’d like to think I’m coaching future Olympians, but in all I’m fine with just making sure some kids have some fun on a Saturday. Now if we could only get a pool over here(and NOT at a tourist hotel), I could coach on a skill that I actually know something about. ;-)

Zuesta baake!

2009-06-03T07:16:00.000-07:00

This is my cat. His name is Zues. Thus far he hasn’t lived up to such a majestic name. He mostly just runs around the place knocking things over. But he’s good company when the going gets rough. ;-)

"Ha ha. I get it. Thats supposed to be funny because I'm a woman."

2009-06-03T07:09:00.000-07:00

Joking here is a really big part of the culture. This was a little difficult to get used to, especially after being warned in training to not sass anyone older than me, don’t sass men, and never ever sass any man older than you, only then to see some young child say rude things to an elder. It was also hard to be just learning the language and barely understanding what was going on anyway, then someone would give me a hard time, and I wouldn’t know how to respond, I would get all flustered etc.
Come to find, there are traditional “joking relationships” between some family names, some geographic regions, and some ethnic groups. Its been explained to me that this is why The Gambia is so peaceful, the joking is a traditional outlet for any ethnic tension that may exist between people. For example, my last name here is Jammeh (awesome, I share that with His Excellency The President), and we have a joking relationship with the Darbos. Usually the joking centers around eating too much (their stomachs are big, they are never full), or saying “their mind is not sweet” (they are stupid). Same joke pretty much every time, and every time its funny.
Other jokes that are always fair game center around husbands and wives, boyfriends and girlfriends. The women at my mother’s club like to tell me that when my husband comes, he will prefer them to me. When someone asks to use my phone, I always ask if they want to call their boyfriend, or to tell him that I love him. The police officers on the corner (who are just as bad as bumsters in many ways) always ask where my boyfriend is (“He’s at home cooking dinner!”)
There is one joke that I never fully understand, is when I approach, men will ask “where’s breakfast?” or lunch, etc. Ha ha, guys. Its funny because I’m a woman and I’m supposed to cook. Very creative. I’m not yet sure what the appropriate joking response is supposed to be.I always feign shock, and ask why they didn't cook, saying that I didn't because I thought it was their turn. They just look at me like I'm stupid, and explain that they never cook, their wives do it. Well. What am I supposed to say? That’s the dumbest joke ever, and it never fails to chap my ass. I guess I just don’t have a very good sense of humor. ;-)

2009-05-19T11:24:00.000-07:00

Hey all,

So I recognize that the last few entries were negative, and have received a few emails about it. It was a bad week, and I had trouble keeping my sense of humor about things. Life is much better now, I just have to remember to laugh. Like when you're on your way somewhere important, and every time your car stops, they have to push it to get it started again, and every time they need to open the door, they just lift it off the car...the whole process takes extra long to get passengers out, but if I keep the right mood, it tickles me every time. The Gambia is great.

You know what else is great? The moon. The moon is positively spectacular lately.

"Ouch! My Penis Hurts!"

2009-05-11T07:27:00.000-07:00

Know whats even more fun than having a ceremony to name your baby? Having a ceremony to circumcise one. It was ridiculous!

So today I went to two post-circumcision parties in my area, and it was a crazy time!! Both these ceremonies were for boys, I have yet to see one for girls, and don’t know how those celebrations differ.
Anyhoo. I’m told that boys are meant to be taken to “the bush” for circumcision in their early teens, but I’d say these kids averaged age eight(one was only two). The boys in a community are gathered and sequestered in a compound for two to three weeks. During this time they are circumcised and taught to be men. An important character to mention during this tradition is the “kankoran.” He is a man dressed head-to-toe in strips of bark and he carries two machetes. His job is to keep the boys sequestered from any females or uncircumcised males during their time in the bush. So during the weeks the boys are gone, he is going around the village, chasing women away with his machetes and yelling. I don’t think he’d hurt me, but I run just the same, I don’t want to test it. At the end of this time away, the community holds a big party for the boys, which is what I attended.
On the morning of the boys’ return, all their female relatives got all dressed up in rags, face paint, beads, and necklaces made from candy and cookies, and went around town dancing, singing, and generally carrying on. Then for most of the rest of the day, people were cooking, dancing, and waiting for the boys. Then, around dusk, the boys all arrived back. They were draped head to foot in cloth, such that you couldn’t tell who was who, all seated on a mat. The large group who had gathered by that time all formed a circle around the boys, with a group of drummers in the middle. One by one, each boy was uncovered and brought to the center of the circle where he had to dance. People threw money and candy, and sometimes went to pick the boy up to carry him around. These kids were terrified. Overall, it was a long day of dancing. While at the party, lots of women’s clubs wearing their asobi (matchy-matchy clothing) and were having what looked like West Side Story-style dance-offs. Except with less finger-snapping, more ass-shaking. It was way fun.

I hear its nice to be nice

2009-05-11T07:26:00.001-07:00

So a long time ago I promised an entry on bumsters. Now is as good a time as any.

Bumsters are young men in the Gambia who hang around looking to be picked up by, usually older, European or American women. They spend most of their time walking up and down the beaches, doing ridiculous “exercises.” Yes, they’re usually ripped but that’s from working on the farm, not doing their weird moves.
Anyhoo. Bumsters approach women on the beaches, or really anywhere in the Kombos, and strike up conversations. They are extremely persistent. “Hey boss lady” is a common opener. As is “hey nice lady,” “hey, nice baby,” or “what’s your nice name?” or just “its nice to be nice.” Their hope is to pick up a boss lady who will pay them for their services, or if they’re lucky, take them back to toubabodu (America or Europe).
Now, I recognize that this system wouldn’t be there if it didn’t work, sometimes. I have definitely seen it in action--older women in their little short shorts, walking around with a Gambian man thirty years their junior. While we were in training village up in Kiang, a bumster brought his 55-year-old girlfriend home around Tobaski. She was around the village, dressed totally inappropriately, holding his hand (also not culturally appropriate) and it just looked silly. And I try not to judge. But really, how is that not prostitution?
On top of it, prostitution or not, it just makes my day rough. Even men who are not bumsters by profession still buy into the culture. The assumptions about white women are still there. Sometimes, the unsolicited flirtation is just too much. Men in positions of power are the worst, policemen, etc. The cheesy smiles, the catcalls, the “Where are you from, beautiful lady?” Really now, why are you calling out, over two lanes of traffic to try and greet me? Why aren’t you greeting all the other women on the street? If I don’t answer, they’re not like “Whoa, I was harassing that woman, that’s why she ignored me.” its more like, “how dare she? I was just trying to talk to her, she must be racist.” When I do answer, it just turns into “Where do you live? When can I come see you? Do you have a boyfriend in the Gambia? I’ll come see you tomorrow, would you like that?” Do I tell them where I live, and thereby gain some street credit for not being a tourist, but also run the risk of them coming to see me? I tell them I’m married, but lying and saying that he’s here is too big a lie to keep up, and in a culture where extra-marital affairs are pretty common, its not much of a deterrent. And damnit, if I even stop to have this conversation, they’ve won. They’ve got my attention. And they always find a reason to touch me, even though by the rules of Islam, they’re not supposed to.* There’s not an age limit either. Some ten-year-olds are certified creepers. Even some men that I’ve been working with, and thought that I had a very professional relationship with, have suddenly turned creepy out of nowhere, which is very disappointing.
Its hard, I don’t want to hate on men, most of my friends at home are men. And I can’t very well be a successful Peace Corps Volunteer if I ignore half the population. My host father is great. My host brother is really nice, and has never once been creepy to me. Some of the men I work with are downright wonderful. When I’ve got the patience for it, and a man hasn’t been too offensive yet, sometimes I’ll stop to talk, and we’ll talk about why I don’t like being catcalled, why its rude, and those are some of the best conversations I’ve ever made time for, however I‘m never sure if I‘ve made a dent or not. Other days I just don’t have the patience, or they ask me who is going to keep me warm when the cold seasons comes. This being West Africa and all, when the “cold” comes, I think I’ll somehow manage.

*speaking of touching me, the Tickle Finger (aka the Icky Finger). Its when a man, while shaking your hand in greeting (also not ok by Muslim rules, but plenty do), uses his index finger to tickle my palm. Its gross. It means he wants to sleep with you, and its hella creepy.

Nothing puts the peace in Peace Corps quite like gritting your teeth to stop yourself from spitting insults. Men of The Gambia, I’m not your boss lady. Its not nice to be nice, sometimes its nice to be an asshole.

Magic

2009-05-11T07:22:00.000-07:00

So today I was riding my bike back from a nearby village, when I came across a man coming out of the bush carrying a live owl by the wing. It was an odd sight, so I pulled over to greetgreetgreet and “What have you got there?” The man brought me to his house and explained that he was a marabout (Traditional healer of sorts, see earlier entry), then showed me all his marabout accoutrements--sticks, leaves, shells, ink, etc--for making jujus. I then asked again what he planned to do with the owl. He explained that the owl was a devil who had been sent by a person to steal the good health of children in the village. He had been in the bush collecting things for making jujus when he saw the owl, had called out to it, and it had come down. Then the man cut its wings so that it couldn‘t fly. This owl was a dangerous thing, but because he was wearing such strong jujus he would be safe. Then he began yelling at the owl (in Jola, unfortunately, so I don’t know what he was saying), sounding almost like a mother scolding a child, and a crowd gathered. Whenever the owl fluffed himself up, or postured with his wings, everyone gasped and stepped back. Another man stepped up to yell at the owl, in mixed English and Jola like this “Jolajolajola F*ck you! You awful thing we kill you! Jolajolajola!” (actually the F word is more common here than I would have guessed, but it doesn’t seem to carry the same weight). When I asked again what their plan was with the owl, he said that he would kill it to protect the village, and within three days, the man who sent it would also die. But we’re going to taunt it first? Awesome guys.
I did say that I didn’t think the owl was dangerous, of course they disagreed. I did consider trying to take the owl home, but not having any training in how to care for this injured wild animal, not to mention I own a cat, decided it might be better if they would just kill it. I did feel sad about it though. I’ve talked with a lot of people about magical beliefs versus scientific explanations, and it strikes me that they use the same tone of language that I use when talking about cultural differences (Gambians see knees and thighs as very sexual, but think that breasts are no big deal. Toubabs feel the opposite. Cultural difference.), and perhaps on some level, they’re right.
When talking about why women hide their pregnancies, and why its rude for me to ask when a mother is due to give birth, I was told that if a woman openly acknowledges her pregnancy, she is worried that she may be cursed by someone, and she will lose the baby. This woman told me that while toubabs believe that a body loses the baby through medical reasons and science, and Africans believe that it is black magic curses, just a cultural difference. And this person is fairly well educated, such that she at least knew what the medical perspective on miscarriage is. Do I know all my body’s minute intracellular functions? No, I know things on a more macro level, and if I need to know more I know where to look for this information, and what sort of sources to trust. I know that there are a variety of reasons a body may miscarry, and that none of them are black magic. Why do I “know” these things? I was told from a very young age to trust the doctors around me, and that there is a scientific answer for everything. Cultural difference. Maybe we do just believe in a different type of magic, I just trust that someone somewhere can prove what I believe. They probably believe the same. I’m not trying to be judgmental here, everyone is a product of their environment, and the President of Gambia claims to cure HIV/AIDS through witchcraft, what are people supposed to think? I’m pretty sure a similar phenomenon exists in the States right now, only its God who makes all these things happen and that’s all any of us need to know.
This happens in other areas as well, even when its not a medical issue, more just a practice which I would like to discourage. Toubabs believe in having only few children, we believe “a person must suffer.” The toubabs believe in not burning everything in our fields at the end of the season, but we Africans have always done that, so that is what we will do. Sometimes when I make a suggestion, or at least try to begin a dialogue, I’m told “Toubab, this is none of your business.”
So the difficulty is, the burden of proof is on me if I‘m to educate people about healthy practices and choices. Even people who have been to school and heard the scientific explanations still carry some traditional beliefs. But I feel like the detailed medical explanation for things is often too long and over people’s heads, and even if I could show these processes in all their cellular detail, I’m not sure I would be believed, but my only other answer for these explanations is “It just is!” which is in itself no more concrete than explaining that I’m sick because an owl devil took my good health.

2009-05-11T07:20:00.001-07:00

Its too hot here. Its too hot to garden. Its too hot to sleep. Its too hot to walk across the street to talk to the neighbors, because you’ll have to be out of the shade and in direct sunlight for about 12 seconds. Its too hot to wear clothes. Its too hot to lay naked face-down on the concrete floor of your house because its too hot to do anything else. Its too hot.

City Folks

2009-05-11T07:14:00.000-07:00

Hey, know what I noticed? City people are jerks. Seriously. Mostly men, from my experience, maybe kids too. But I definitely had to get out of the Kombo area to understand.

Lately, I’ve been put off a little bit by people. For example, we were taught when we got here to begin social interactions with the Arabic “Salaamalekum” (“Peace be with You”), then proceed with other greetings, and that’s definitely how Gambians do it. But lately, I’ve had more than a few people challenge me on it. Like, I’ll get into a taxi, and I’ll greet the driver and other passengers with “Salaamalekum”, and sometimes someone will ask “Are you Muslim?” or “Do you pray?” (which I’ve noticed means the same thing to them). And when I reply no, they proceed to tell me that wishing someone peace in this way is for Muslims only. Really guys? I’m in your country for two years, trying to help with development, and you can’t wish me peace? Of all the things that don’t cost you anything, peace would just be a nice thing to wish someone. It wouldn’t hurt my feelings so much if my Gambian, Muslim language teachers hadn’t encouraged us to use this greeting. I’m not trying to upset someone’s religion. Sometimes I try to argue, saying that everyone likes peace, so I’m going to wish it. This infidel is wishing you all peace, whether you want it or not.
I’ve also had a couple of people challenging me on language while in town. Like, if I start speaking in Mandinka, some guy just turned to me to say “You’re trying to speak Mandinka, but you cannot.” By that point, I hadn’t even messed up yet. He then proceeded to tell me in Mandinka that I can’t hear Mandinka clearly, because I’m just a toubab. Thanks dude. I understood what you just said. I replied accordingly. I came to your country, and thought it might be nice to try to learn the language. I bet it didn’t take you only six months to learn English. It just sounds to me like my friends up-country don’t have this problem.
Also, there is just more bumster-type men hanging around in the city. I’m always the boss lady, first lady, nice lady, with the nice name, and its impossible to live your life without being hit up by a man. My least favorite is a group of twenty-somethings, all leaning against a wall, drinking attaya, and they catcall with a very demanding, “girl, come here!” (that’s the translation, but for some reason it sounds more rude when its “naa bang!”) Guys, I know that wall won’t hold itself up without you, and while you’re performing that public service you might as well drink some tea, but jeez, I’ve got stuff to do.

But in the surrounding villages? People are so much nicer! I rode my bike up to a little village north of where I am. On the way I got lost, and asked a man for directions. He rode with me almost all the way (along a tiny dirt path over hills and through people’s back yards), then pointed me down the last part of my ride. Then, not only did he not say “toubab, give me your bike” he prayed out loud asking Allah to give me peace on the road. (to which I replied by tapping my forehead and saying “Ameen!”) Thanks, dude, I hope so too! And same to you! And when I got to the village I was going to, there was no toubabing from the kids! No bumster-like behavior!
I’m glad for many reasons that I live in an urban area, fresh fruit and vegetables, internet, reliable phone service, always lots of things going on. But when I get out and away from all that crap, I think I could sort of dig the small-town life.

So its never too early to worry about going home

2009-05-03T10:11:00.000-07:00

Hey, so I’ve been here about six months now (Actually, my whole training group has, we haven’t lost anyone. Isn’t that great?), and I still love it. Which leads me to think about going home, and what that might mean.
Day to day, I’m really happy here. Downright joyful sometimes. And on the days that I’m not quite so elated, I’m at least physically and mentally engaged such that I’m never bored. That being said, I’m remembering when I was home, I was pretty happy, most of the time. But there were times when I very much had a feeling of “now what?” plaguing me. These feelings were a big part of me deciding to join the Peace Corps. Don’t get me wrong, I liked my job enough, and wanted to advance. In fact I was positive at the time that I was meant to be a teacher (maybe I still will, later on). I liked my friends. I liked my living situation. But I didn’t feel this ALIVE, and now that I have, I wonder if I could go back to doing what I was doing and feel content. Maybe I’m one of those fabulously lucky people who can always find a way to be happy wherever she is. Maybe I can totally go back to the life I was living, make it mine again, and it will be great. Or maybe now that I’ve felt this free, I can’t. I don’t know.
Which begs the question, what do I love so much about being here? Mostly it stems from feeling that I am fully in charge of my life, and what I get to do day to day. If I think that something is a good idea, I do it. If it doesn’t, I don’t. I get to choose. And what is really nice, is that I get paid either way, so its not a financial risk like making a business work and being my own boss. I like that my job is often just enjoying people, or as Pastor Dave likes to say “loving on them.” I get to chat with people, laugh with them, dance with them, ask them questions about themselves. If I’m in a position to help someone, then I do. I get to be a big sister to about 30 kids in the neighborhood. That’s my job. Try to find that in the States. its not there.
I also feel a lot more confident in myself and much stronger now than I have in the last few years. I’m more accepting of personal short-comings, both my own and other people’s. I don’t WORRY about things nearly so much, and am a lot more content to just let life happen, doing what I can and leaving the rest to the universe. I feel a lot more creative now than I have had time to feel in the last few years. All said, I think this means I need a job where I am my own boss, or at least have a whole lot of freedom and leeway in my activities, time schedule, work-related goals. and i'm not sure how to find that, exactly.
Its not that I don’t miss Toubabodu (“Land of the toubabs”), there are plenty of things that I miss--Friends and family, jeans that fit and don’t hang off my skinny butt, turkey sandwiches on sliced wheat bread with tomato, lettuce, cheddar cheese, mayo and yellow mustard…..and my skin not looking like crap, to name a few. But honestly I don’t want to go home right now. Or soon. (or ever?) No need to worry yet, this is just stuff I’ve been pondering lately.

Or perhaps I’m just crazy on Mephloquin. Some people get vivid dreams from their malaria meds, maybe I get delusions of grandeur. And if that’s the case, I’m never going off it. ;-)

Hey guys, its me in a bee suit!!

2009-04-27T06:33:00.000-07:00

this past week I got to tag along with our environment training, and bee-keeping was just one of the awesome things I got to practice! Also, tree-grafting. Cool, hey?

Now its back to work work work...

Work it

2009-04-26T05:06:00.000-07:00

Hey all,

I realized that many of my latest blog entries were kind of fluff material. Life is life, work is work, and I’m just kind of doing the thing. I’ve been enjoying myself, but nothing out of the ordinary has been happening. If I were speaking in Gambian state-the-obvious generalities, I would say “the sun is hot” “we are managing” and “its not easy.” those are three of my favorites. ;-)

The past few weeks I’ve been working with an chicken co-op, and its lead me to think a lot about money and its role in development, and how much to help or not help in other ways too. This chicken co-op has been in business for about 5 years now. They produce broiler chickens for meat. Originally, they wanted produce year-round, but they realized that they could not move the chickens fast enough to be profitable(chickens that don’t sell fast enough eat more food than the money they will sell for, and are then sold at a loss), so now they produce a large crop of chickens to coincide with major feast holidays, like Ramadan and Tobaski. However, this leaves the co-op idle much of the year, so they want to move into egg production. They don’t have the money to expand, because they need to fence the area to provide more security, dig a well, then buy the layer hens. We’ve been working on writing a grant together to cover these costs, which in general isn’t bad. Writing a grant is a good process for a business because it forces them to plan ahead, really think their idea through and defend how plausible it is. In that way, grants are much better than straight up donations or gifts…but its still just a gift, and I’ve seen other organizations abuse that.
I know a women’s club near me who donor-hops. They continually ask different donors and tourists for money so that they can make tie-dye, soap, and do sewing, none of which sells in the Gambia. Nonetheless, they’ve gotten plenty of grants, to continue making things that don’t sell, all in the name of “women’s empowerment” and they don’t see anything wrong with that. The money gets spent on materials, and on paying the women a daily or weekly stipend to continue to participate, and make things that don’t sell. No way am I going to go grant chasing with them, its not sustainable the way they’re using it. It just frustrates the hell out of me, that even if I don’t help them, a group of tourists will come through, the women’s group will dance for them and talk about women’s empowerment (indeed a worthwhile goal…also a catchphrase), the tourists will give them some money, and when that runs out they’ll ask for more. The same things happen with the schools. Ugh.
So I’ve just been thinking about all the money that gets spent willy-nilly around here, who needs it and who doesn’t, and how to tell the difference. I don’t have any answers. I trust the chicken group that I’m working with. They’ve handled money responsibly in the past, problem-solved, and are now looking to expand. They wrote their grant application themselves, and are very invested in their project. Then the question came up of how much to help them. They wrote the grant app, but it wasn’t written in a way that made sense to me, so I struggled wondering whether I should put things in an order that made more sense, present things more clearly, in order to give them a better shot, or should I leave it as is, and it would look better to the grant committee to see it written entirely by a group of Gambians, even if the writing isn’t as clear as it might be.

So I’m thinking about chickens, still working with the peer health society, still trying to help organize some environmental education, and just doing the thing. ;-)

2009-04-26T04:58:00.000-07:00

Hey Guys, check out my new “complet”

When you go to naming ceremonies and such, you get all dressed up. My mother would never say so, but she’s kind of a fashion plate. She always looks gorgeous, and I think I kind of embarrassed her wearing the same outfit to every single event, which was made in Kiang (Kombo tailors are much more skilled). So I got this outfit made so I wouldn‘t embarrass her so much, and I kind of love it. The stitching is itchy as all get-out, and the fabric doesn’t stretch or breath, but I think I look pretty. ;-)

2009-04-09T07:11:00.000-07:00

Hey all

I felt like doing another entry on cashews. We are well into cashew season in Western Region, and they are everywhere! I realize that this is a little snap-happy, but I just think the fruit is so beautiful! There is such a variety of color! You get really lemony yellows, and cranberry reds, and every shade of orangey-peach in between. I really do think that they are just such a beautiful fruit.
And sadly they go to waste! They are falling off trees left and right in the fields near me. Many kids eat them (or throw them at passing cars), but many people don’t. The tart taste must not be for everyone. Anyhoo, so I’ve been experimenting with cashew jam, and cashew wine, pictures of which have been included here. The jam has turned out well and is very tasty. My host family enjoyed it, but I don’t think they have any interest in making it. Oh well, maybe someone else. The wine is still fermenting, so I have no idea what to expect from that.
Say! Are those condoms on top of those bottles? Why would you do that? Yes, they are. (thanks Peace Corps med kit)by putting condoms on top of the bottles, and poking small holes in them it acts as a sort of one-way valve allowing carbon dioxide to escape, while not allowing liquid to evaporate, or any contamination from the air to land. Plus, when the condom deflates, I’ll know my fermentation is over.

The pictures displayed here of the suspended transparent tent are of my solar food dryer that I have erected in my back yard. I’ve been successful at drying bananas and cashew fruit thus far. Its not crunchy like freeze-dried food, which is what I was going for, but more like fruit leather. Its still tasty and doesn’t spoil. The kids have liked the dried fruit that I’ve given them to sample, but the adults have just smiled as though to indulge me, and then given their sample to a child. ;-)

In other news of hobbies, my garden is turning out wonderfully and I’ve had time to return to poetry writing, which has been nice. Work, plus these activities have kept me rather busy.

Thanks to all of you who have sent mail. Its always a day-brightener!

Wheeee!

Magic in Everyday Life

2009-04-09T07:07:00.000-07:00

For good, bad or otherwise, the belief in magic is a big part of the daily life of most Gambians. People wear amulets, called “jujus” or “safoo” to ward off spirits and sickness, or to bring about good things. These jujus are verses of the Koran written out, then stitched in leather pouches that are then worn on the body, often around the waist, neck, wrist, or upper arm. Babies wear big long strings of them. Other jujus are made for other purposes. For example goats keep coming into the compound and they eat our cassava, so my host father made up a juju by boiling something in a rams horn, then tying it with a red string and hanging it in the cassava. He said that if the thief came back, he would be frozen in his tracks by the juju, and we would find him there(this surprised me, because my host father is educated, but that just goes to show how pervasive this practice is in the country. Education or not, he still relies on magic.). Many people have jujus hanging in the doorway to keep spirits out.
These jujus are made by “marabouts”, traditional medicine men. These men are trained in Koranic studies, but many of their practices are from before Islam came to the area. Marabouts are also able to cast spells for people to influence events, etc.
There is also many beliefs about devils. My host mother won’t let me go out of the compound after 7 PM, because of devils. I thought this was s euphemism, and maybe the neighborhood isn’t safe. She insisted its not the neighborhood, but if a devil saw me, I would get an incurable sickness and die.
I was out in the bush taking pictures, and had stopped to photograph a giant termite mound, when a little girl came out of nowhere to tell me to get away from it, its not safe. I asked why, she didn’t say, but just said that it was not safe. Later, I asked my host brother, and he said that a devil, disguised as a serpent, lives there and if it sees me, and I see it, I’ll die.

I think that the traditional beliefs are interesting, and I don’t advocate loss of culture, but where they get in the way, is when I’m trying to advocate more concrete behavior change to protect people’s health or promote development, and many times people are happy to just rely on the possibility of magic. One of my PCV friends coaches a soccer team, but its difficult to get his team to practice, because apparently soccer, in his village, is more a battle of the marabouts, and the medicine men cast spells throughout the game. You only win if you marabout is stronger. Yes, I’m fine with your baby wears jujus, but lets get him inoculated too, ok? Sure, wear jujus, but also study for your school test rather than hoping your marabout cast a strong spell. I actually think that jujus are kind of cool looking, and I would wear one with my binbins, but then I feel like that would be an endorsement, and work against my urging people to take more effective actions. The presence of magic sort of just removes the aspect of personal responsibility in a situation, and that’s hard for me to overcome.
Although, as far as going out after dusk….devils or no devils, its probably safest to stay in anyway.

My BFFs

2009-03-30T07:50:00.000-07:00

So these are kids from around. They can either make or break my day, but usually, they are pretty great.

Working with Teenagers is like Herding Cats, and Other Stories of 'What the hell am I doing?'

2009-03-30T07:48:00.000-07:00

Whoa, busy lately. After a few weeks sitting around, chatting, and reading lots and lots of books, I feel like all of a sudden people are approaching me with all sorts of ideas. I must say I’m feeling pretty overwhelmed. How do I know what’s a good project to put my energy into? How do I know if someone is full of bull? All of a sudden people seem to have all these expectations, and while I may be enthusiastic, and I do fancy myself mildly creative, but I’m not magic! Anyway, here is a short overview of what’s going on, and how things have changed from my last “what are you doing?” update.

I know I mentioned a local headmaster who wants to build new pit latrines. It is an issue, the current pits are nasty, and there are far too few of them for the population of students that the school serves. However, we really do have very different ideas on how to accomplish this goal, and I’m not sure if we can work together. He wants to ask the American Embassy for money (and they do grant money for such projects), and is so sure that because I’m involved the embassy will give him the funds, that he sees no reason to get the community involved, either to donate money or labor towards the project. I’ve explained over and over that the embassy will not give any money unless the community contributes as well. He insists over and over that the community will not contribute, and its pointless to ask, and even so, if they did do some labor, they would undoubtedly mess it up. So I don’t know if I should be focusing on community education on why proper waste disposal is important, or what exactly, but often it seems as if the headmaster actively DOES NOT want me to talk to parents…which feels weird. So, while it is a worthwhile venture and I‘m going to keep my ears open, I want to work with someone, not in spite of them.

On the other hand, a teacher from the same school approached me about doing a school wide project around pollution and proper trash disposal, including lessons and activities, that culminates in a community-wide used-battery collection and disposal. This is a great idea, used batteries are all over the place, kids seem to love to put them in their mouths. This teacher apparently did a similar project with another PCV in the Central River Region, they educated on water and soil pollution, as well as conservation, and I’m not sure what all else. I think its great that the teacher has already begun teaching his students, but he doesn’t seem to realize that he doesn’t NEED me to organize this. In fact he is far more knowledgeable considering he has already taken part in a project of this kind. And quite frankly I don’t have all the answers (is it better to burn your trash, or bury it? Kill your lungs and the ozone, or leech things into our water?), but I’ll try to find them. And he also wants all this done IMMEDIATELY, and I think that if we w=put more time into the planning, it would be more successful, but I don’t want to wait around too much and have him lose enthusiasm. Anyway, I’m going to see if I can coach him along to seeing his own potential and power on this project.

I visited another school earlier this week, and they had so many ideas! I was impressed and frankly overwhelmed. They kept asking for help, but honestly, they were a really well organized, seemingly well-run school. Yes, they have their list of needs (and it was such a well-organized, itemized list!), but they also have so much going for them that I was just in awe. They have a library that is well-used, and valued by the students, although they are in serious need of some shelves. Actually, in need of furniture in general, many of the children bring their own chairs to school. Incidentally, they also need new pit latrines. But when I asked about income-generation at the school, the headmaster replied that they were currently in the process of planting an orchard behind the school, also a woodlot, also a vegetable garden, the produce of which would be sold and the proceeds benefiting the school. I saw the land, its already fenced, there are some water spouts, there is great potential. Anyway, I’d like to help them get as much money out of their agricultural venture as possible, and help in any way I can, we’ll see. It was just refreshing to meet someone who says, ‘Here are our goals, here is how we have begun addressing them, any guidance you can offer would be welcome.” I wanted to give them, like, 50 high fives.

And then there is the Peer Health Club. It‘s my favorite thing to work on, probably just because I see in children the most potential for growth and change, but also the most frustrating. The club’s premise is that it’s members educate themselves on health issues, then present them to the school in lectures or drama presentations. All well and good, but from what I can see this does not happen often, and even when it does, it is only a very few number who are actually involved. Much of their weekly meeting, which is only 15 minutes long, is spent arguing. So. They did seem excited when I just began hanging out, which was a good step. Changes have been slow, but I should count my victories as well as defeats, I suppose. I proposed we meet outside school hours, the first week only three showed, the second week 23 people came. Our agendas are a little different, and I have to remind myself to slow down. My agenda is to not only disseminate information on health topics in order to encourage behavior change, but also to encourage critical-thinking, help foster better communication skills, discussing decision-making, etc. Their agenda appears to be to plan health talks and such, without much regard to whether they are ready, or how effective(or not) they have been or could be. So, when I ask that we get together to talk about some issue, they drag their feet, but when they want to plan an outreach event, they want to run away with it and do it tomorrow! Seems a little bass-akward.
Another challenge for me has been cultural. The students that I am working with are so used to formality, their teachers lecturing from on high, that when they asked me to give a “presentation” and I did an interactive activity, that they didn’t know what to think of me. Pulling discussion from the group was like pulling teeth. I felt like I was tap-dancing up there, and people were just staring. Usually with a tough crowd, I can get by with dorky humor and usually they warm up. My jokes don’t seem to translate…I’ve got big plans to cover more sensitive topics such as sexual health later on, but only if I can make good trusting relationships with these kids starting now. After today’s meeting of blank stares it will be months before that can happen.
Anyway, slowly slowly. I need to support and guide the student president of the club in his leadership skills, rather than taking over (which is my tendency), and slowly hopefully we can fulfill everybody’s goals…..and maybe I can trick them into learning something, and they won’t even know it.

2009-03-30T07:38:00.000-07:00

The birth of a baby is a really big deal around here. The official naming of a baby is also highly celebrated, and it’s a big community event. If any of you visit me, I hope we can go to one. ;-)

In Mandinka, the baby-naming ceremony is called a “kunliyo” (head-shaving). The whole community attends, including extended family from other villages. Kunliyos can be all day events, people get all dressed up and gather at the house of the family who had a child. There is lots of food, people sit around and chat forever (this part gets boring when I run out of vocab). The traditional story-tellers and musicians, called “griots” circle through the crowd during this time. Griots sing songs praising the greatness of your family, then you have to give them money. In my opinion, this is a pain, I felt targeted for being the only toubab. Really, you sing me a song that I did not ask for, then I have to give you money? Then later, the Imam and village elders gather, everyone prays, then the Imam shaves the baby’s head and announces the name. Then more food and tea-drinking. Sometimes, if the family is well-off, they will rent a DJ and there will be dancing long into the evening.

I have included some pictures from a kunliyo from one of my host mother’s family. The pictures include the huge amount of food that has to be prepared, everyone’s pretty clothes, plus this big suitcase of gifts for the mother. Speaking of pretty clothes, the mother will often change clothes many many times throughout the day. I went to a Kunliyo up-country where the mother put on a new, beautiful outfit every hour or two, resulting in at least 5 changes. The big suitcase of gifts was something I’d never seen at any other ceremony. Apparently, it either happens at the marriage or at the birth of the first child. It was kind of ridiculous, the females of the husband’s extended family all came in singing and presenting this suitcase, then the griots announced it’s contents, piece by piece, over a megaphone. it went like this

One compete outfit.
One complete outfit!!!
Two complete outfits.
Two complete outfits!!
…
Five complete outfits.
Five complete outfits!!
…
Three sets matching bra and underwear.
Three sets matching bra and underwear!!
…
12 bars soap.
12 bars soap!!!
…
Three pairs matching shoes and purse.
Three pairs matching shoes and purse!!

It was ridiculous, this itemizing of swag. But apparently if it doesn’t happen at the wedding or at the birth of the first child, then the wife refuses to go live with her husband. Anyway. After seeing that no one can convince me that there isn’t money in this country. Its here. Priorities are just whack.

And in other news, I’m told that if the baby-of-honor pees on you at the kunliyo, its good luck. So at least I’ve got that going for me. ;-)

hey awesome.

2009-03-30T07:23:00.001-07:00

2009-03-30T07:22:00.001-07:00

Hey you know whats awesome? My job is to go around all day and chat and be friendly to people. As long as I’m here, I’m doing my job. I;ve got to admit that I’m loving this. I feel elated, most days anyway. This is freaking great.

Wheeeee!

so this was a little frustrating...

2009-03-30T07:19:00.000-07:00

I went to a play today, put on by a drama group at the local high school. The play was written by the vie-principal, and the student actors really were very good. They were very entertaining to watch. The frustration was the play itself. The take-away message was “God has a plan for each of us, if you try to do more than God has planned for you, bad things will happen.” So, in other words, if things aren‘t better, its because God doesn’t want them to be, and its wrong to try to change that, so sit tight and accept the status quo. Wow. No wonder this country isn’t developing.
I’d encountered fatalistic attitudes here before, I guess I’d just never heard them outright preached. And its hard….because I consider it my job to be a cheerleader for change(nice alliteration Whitney, and not the least bit cheesy ;-)
I can’t change a whole culture all by myself. I don’t even want to try to do that. I need to find the people who are already trying to do big things anyway, despite the social mores against it (ooh vocab word, its called “positive deviance”), and really make an example of them and help them be successful in any way I can, therefore encouraging other people to do big things too. Those people are certainly here, they are just hard to find sometimes.

2009-03-10T03:45:00.000-07:00

Hey all,

here's just a quick series of photos of my house, and my neighborhood. i think of my house as really cozy, but i feel like on film it looks really stark...anyway, its home sweet hut for awhile, and i like it! the walls look really white, but i've been drawing on them and writing poetry and favorite song lyrics up in marker, but that didn;t show on the camera.

love to you all

Did You Know?

2009-03-10T03:41:00.001-07:00

Hey! Did you know how cashews grow? I had no idea! They’re just coming into season right now, and I was surprised at how they look on the tree, so I thought that I would share.
On the tree, a sort of smallish fruit grows, then dangling from that fruit is a sort of bean-shaped thing, and that’s the cashew! It’s a funny little fruit…the juice and flesh are very tart, and despite being very juicy, it sort of dries your mouth out when you eat it. I don’t know how else to describe it. I do think its yummy to eat fresh though, and I know that some people make a wine or liquor out of it, though I’m not sure where to find it in this country. The juice is very caustic, and I’m told that if you leave it overnight on clothes that it will wear a hole in them. The nut itself is encased is sort of a leathery skin, you burn this, then crush it with a rock, then you can eat the cashew! I’m told that if you don’t burn it, and just open it up, the juice inside can give you some itchy blisters. Here are some pictures! Enjoy!

Work Update

2009-02-28T07:20:00.001-08:00

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.

2009-02-28T07:18:00.001-08:00

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!

2009-02-28T07:18:00.000-08:00

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!

A few Anxieties, a few Celebrations

2009-02-28T07:16:00.000-08:00

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

Bunny and My Mother's Ass

2009-02-28T06:34:00.001-08:00

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

2009-02-28T06:27:00.000-08:00

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.

Yes, But What Are You Doing?”

2009-02-03T03:27:00.000-08:00

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.

Girl Stuff

2009-02-03T03:23:00.000-08:00

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.

swearing-in ceremony

2009-01-15T09:39:00.001-08:00

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

2009-01-12T08:37:00.000-08:00

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

2009-01-09T09:01:00.000-08:00

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

2009-01-09T08:57:00.000-08:00

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!

2009-01-09T08:56:00.000-08:00

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.

2009-01-09T08:55:00.001-08:00

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!”

2009-01-09T08:52:00.000-08:00

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!!

2008-11-11T13:41:00.000-08:00

its been a few fays of ups and downs. i alternate between feeling really excited for the work i will be doing, and terrrified of being in a village by myself. it doesn;t help that we keep having meetings about what to do in different situations (weird heath situations when you're in the bush, what to do in case of violence). in all, i'm pretty nervous. and communication isn;t as available as i expected, so i may be doing some snail mail(my address is above). i have a cell phone but it hasn't let me do a lot of international calling, and its expensive anyway(like $1 per minute! but i can recieve for free....and texting hasn't been successfull either, but you're welcome to try!

the number i use most is 0112207060734
but i MAY use 0112209309033 to call YOU becasue it might be cheaper, so if that pops up on your screen, answer it!
food is pretty good, lots of rice with spices and roasted chicken(although i;m told to expect less of that in village). today we tried eating in teh traditional manner for the first time. all the food is served in a communal bowl in the middle, and we all sit around it and eat with our right hands. it was really hard to eat the rice...and i made a big mess...so all in all i didn;t eat very much because it took so much effort to get to my mouth because it all fell out, so i hope i get better at that.

on friday, we will be leaving to go to training villages to be immersed in language for the next 10 weeks. we will also be learning other techniques(pit toiletes, water purification, tying a wrap skirt). so, while i will have cell service, no email and no updates. so i'm not hurt, i'm just out of town.

anyhoo. its an adventure. different than i expected. lots of ups and downs. eeek

i'd bless the heck out of some rain...

2008-11-09T13:04:00.000-08:00

hey all,

this is going to be quick because I don';t have much time.

Greetings from The Gambia! Its Sunday night and I am at the Peace Corps office near Banjul. We have been here for 4 days, and have been kept busy busy the whole time. Upon arrival, we were whisked to a compound where we were given dinner, and then we all crashed in bed.
the next day, we began language classes. here, greetings are lengthy and very important, so we are learning the greetings in each of the three main languages, Mandinka, Wolof, and Pulaar. this was hard because they each translate to about the same thing in english, but the languages are completely separate, and each phrase has a response, and you can't mix them up, which i often did. so, greetings all began with wishing each other peace, then one person asks the other how they are doing, how their family is, how their work is, how the morning is, how they slept, etc. the other person just answers, and the answers are all pretty much translate to "fine." then, you switch, and the person who was answering asks all the questions. you must do this with everyone you meet, even if all you want is to buy a tomato or ask a question. so it takes awhile.

the next day, we learned which language we would be learning more fully for when we are at our site. I will be learning Mandinka, which is the largest ethnic group. Other than hours of language cramming we have been getting shots, discussing conceptions and misconceptions, and getting breifed about what to expect next. we haven't left the compound much other than to go on a big white person expedition to the grocery store. i'm anxious to be more independant!!

things feel similar to east africa, and the smells are the same.

outtie. love you all.

Departure and Staging

2008-11-04T19:42:00.000-08:00

Alright, Ladies and Gentlemen, this is my first actual post. I now know that I can say that I am a Peace Corps volunteer, I am just obligated to say that none of the opinions or experiences written here are considered official Peace Corps publications or official Peace Corps opinions. They are my own as a volunteer. I also cannot say the exact community where I will be posted(convenient because I don;t know).

So yesterday, I left Oakland. That was sad. It was hard to say good-bye, and I will be honest and say that I am scared as well. What if this isn;t what I imagined or planned on? So...when I was dropped off, I checked two big bags, and got no flack. Then, I tried to go through security and was rejected because my carry-on was too big. In honesty, it is too big. The bag is fine, but it was stuffed to the max. This lady said that it was unsafe to bring on to the plane. I don't usually cry to get my way, but this seemed like a good time to try. "I'm going to Africa for two years and I need ALL of it!!" No dice. So, I unloaded and put on another shirt, folded up a dress and put it in my pocket, put all my underwear in my pockets and filled my water bottle with t-shirts. It worked, and I repacked as soon as I got through security. So there. I win.

I arrived at 12:30 am in Philly and went straight to the hotel. I must say I was grumpy and that the all Christmas music station we listened to in the shuttle didn;t help.

However, upon awakening and meeting my roommate, I found her to be very nice and upbeat. In fact all the people I have met have been very nice people. There are about 20 volunteers in our program in all. Today we finished paperwork, discussed safety issues(don't flash your money, don;t walk alone at night....duh), and discussed what will happen when we arrive in Banjul. Most volunteers are my age, or a little younger. There is one married couple, and two people who are in their late 40's or early 50's. All seem very nice, and I'm eager to see how people turn out.

Tomorrow, we will start by going to the clinic at 7:30 am(ouch!) then checking out of the hotel and going by bus to Newark. We will fly out around 1 pm, layover in Brussels, then arrive Thursday evening in Banjul.

Thats it. I'm overwhelmed. Two years? for reals, what was I thinking?

More excitement to come

2008-10-12T20:18:00.000-07:00

Hey all,

This is the future site of my upcoming adventures in The Gambia. This blog is for my friends and family to check my progress, read my stories, etc, but I fully recognize that it is open to the public and could be accessed by anyone.
So let me explain. On November 5, 2008, I will be leaving to serve in The Gambia for a US-based volunteer organization (am I even allowed to say the name of the organization? I just figured maybe I'm not allowed to, since I might do something dumb, then write about it on here, and then my name would be associated with this highly recognizable volunteer organization). Anyhoo, I'll be working in the health sector, but I have no idea where in the country, or to which project in particular I will be assigned.
My goal for this blog is to write honestly about what I am thinking, feeling, and experiencing. I write how I speak/think, so it may not always be professional, but hopefully will have an element of my voice.

Thats that. I promise the next entry will be from Gambia.