For those that might be interested I thought I would write a little to give you more of an idea what life and people are like here in The Gambia. I don’t want generalise and so I want to begin by clarifying that what I say is based on my experiences so far, the things that I have seen and some of the people that I have met.
Gambia is divided into divisions and the division that homes Banjul, the capital city, is by far the most ‘western’ of them all. This area is also known as the Kombos and is where most of the tourists will stay during their time in the Gambia. Though Banjul itself is relatively ‘shanty’ by western city standards, unlike many other areas in the Gambia it has tarmac roads throughout and a regular flow of traffic. There are quite a few important Government buildings in Banjul including The State House (The President’s home) and many departments of the Ministry are based there. Banjul also has a ferry port which links it to Barra in the North Bank Region (North Bank Region being where I live).
As far as I am aware not many tourists actually stay in the capital though as there are few accessible beaches and little amenities there – it’s like a ‘working’ city, therefore most of the tourists will stay along the north and west cost of the Kombos area outside of Banjul. In these areas they have supermarkets, banks, nightclubs, restaurants, cafes, gymnasiums, hotels etc and for many tourists and wealthy Gambians the life they could live here would be very similar to back in the UK (only much hotter and not as good roads).
People in the Kombos area dress differently to those in other parts of the Gambia and though you will always see traditional outfits they will often have an extra flare or be made from much more interesting and expensive material. Also many Gambians in the Kombos will wear western style clothes varying from jeans to suits. It’s a much more ‘fashionable’ place and women wear clothes that in other parts of the Gambia would be really frowned upon.
The culture of the Kombos is different too. Many young people go out to nightclubs and boys and girls mix more. Also people socialise at cafes and restaurants. Some Gambians drink alcohol (unlike anywhere else in The Gambia) and there seems to be a work ethos in the Kombo area, shops opening on time, businesses running effectively, there is competition for jobs therefore people applying themselves at work (all things which I have found less evident in the rest of The Gambia).
Though Gambia is called the ‘smiling coast’, in the Kombos areas I have found that the only people who have the time or inclination to smile at you are hotel staff, shop/market vendors, beggars and ‘bumsters’. (The latter is the name given to local Gambians who try to earn a living from obtaining money, meals, clothes, contacts and sometimes sex from tourists).
In terms of housing most Gambians will live in ‘compounds’ (a walled area with a series of houses inside). Compounds vary in size and quality of housing but they usually home members of the same extended family. In the Kombos area there are many individual homes (which are not typical anywhere else in the Gambia) and compounds in which all the houses are for renters.
The quality of housing in the Kombos area is relatively good with some wealthy Gambians living in deluxe mansions. There are poorer areas of the Kombos though and the housing in these areas is more typical of what you might find elsewhere in The Gambia – that is a two room structure with an outdoor kitchen and toilet/latrine area. Electricity and water is supplied to the Kombos 24 hours a day however there are frequent power cuts and occasional interruptions to the water supply.
In terms of diet and health many people from the Kombos eat a variety of food from local dishes to more western cuisines. More affluent Gambians enjoy a greater range of food whereas the diet of those less fortunate will rely almost entirely on Gambian dishes (they are rice-based dishes) as these are cheaper to buy the ingredients for and to make. I am told that Gambian food is very high in fat (oil is used excessively) and many people here suffer from high cholesterol.
So now to the rest of The Gambia! From what I can gather pretty much everywhere outside the Kombos (and more so of the divisions to the east of Banjul) is referred to as ‘up-country’. Up-country life is very different to that in the Kombos and religion plays a big part in day to day life. The Gambia is a Muslim country (something like 95% of the population are Muslim). Consequently the views, behaviour and expectations of people up-country are more closely linked to the religious interpretations concerning attitudes towards women and the ‘roles’ and responsibilities which individuals have in the family.
Based on life in Kerewan (where I live) I think that it is fair to say that most married man will have at least one wife (up to four) and each wife will have an average of 5-9 children. Compounds here usually comprise of a ‘senior’ (used in authoritative terms rather than reflecting age) man (sometimes a few senior men in the case of brothers), their own mother and unmarried sisters and then each of the men’s wives and children. Then as and when the senior men’s sons gets married he will bring his wife/wives to the compound and any subsequent children will also live there (when women marry they leave the family compound and move to their husbands). Therefore compounds up-country can be very crowded with sometimes as many as four people or more sharing a single room.
I have noticed that many poorer Gambians don’t live in their houses in the same way that we do in the UK. They merely use their houses to sleep in as all other activities take place outside the house. Even watching the television often takes place outside the house with a television being set up somewhere on the compound and everybody gathered round to watch. Therefore as many of the Gambians I have met here don’t really have their own ‘private space’ they consequently have little possessions (as there is nowhere to put them). This is particularly true for the children and any possessions that they do have, maybe a mobile phone, a photograph or a toy of some sort, they have to keep with them at all times otherwise it will simply be picked up by another child.
One of the consequences of this is that children especially, are often unable to look after things properly. If they have school books they often get damaged or lost and if they have been given an item (for example a toy) it is only a matter of time before it is broken or discarded. This can be a little disheartening for westerners to see, when their well meaning gifts end up in the hands of those they were not intended for, broken within minutes or used in a way that defeats the purpose of its invention (such as a filing cabinet being tipped on its side and used as a bench).
Women are responsible for the day to day running of the compounds up-country. They prepare and cook all the food for the men and children, they wash and iron the clothes, clean the houses, look after the infants, collect the water and work in the local gardens (there are many women’s gardens in The Gambia where women will grow vegetables often to supplement their own meals and sometimes to sell at the market).
Many people up-country believe that a women’s role is in her home and therefore most women in these areas seldom leave their compounds (other than to the places that their daily chores take them to). Girls over the age of about ten will often help their mothers with work on the compound and occasionally some of the boys might help out too. I have been told that if a man has to do very little in terms of household tasks and being responsible for the children then it is a sign that he has a good wife. There are many excellent wives in Kerewan.
When it comes to meal times here Gambians eat from what is called a ‘food bowl’. That is the food is prepared in one large bowl and put on the floor then people all gather round, usually crouching on the floor and eat from the bowl. There is an etiquette involved with food bowl eating; you must always wash your hand before you begin (most people here eat with their right hand) and you must only eat food from the section of the food bowl which you are crouched next to. If some of the meat, vegetable or other ‘shared’ item is in the section in front of you then it is your responsibility to tear it apart with your hand and then throw it (as equally as possible) to other sections of the food bowl. Any part of the food which is non-digestible such as bone or gristle is spat onto the floor.
Up-country eating from the food bowl seems to be a social activity and people are always keen for others to join them when they are eating. Wherever you are, around meal times people (even strangers) will call you over and ask you to eat with them. Though men always invite me to eat with them I have noticed though that Gambian men and women seldom eat from the same food bowl at the same time. Usually if there are not separate bowls for women and men the food bowl will be given to the men (and boys) first and then the women will eat afterwards and then the children (girls and very young boys) after the women.
People up-country (well in Kerewan at least) eat rice everyday for every meal. For breakfast they will usually have a rice-porridge, and then for lunch and dinner another rice-based meal (perhaps with a different ‘sauce’ for variety) and then late in the evening they might eat rice porridge again. On the whole people don’t seem to find this excessive consumption of rice to be a problem and many of the less travelled people of Kerewan (which is probably most of them) are not actually aware of any alternatives to rice. Occasionally people will eat cous and sometimes bread but the bread will often accompany the rice.
Generally peoples’ diets here are not very good and few vegetables are consumed even though they are grown locally. I was once told that vegetables are ‘for poor people’ so I think there might be a stigma attached to eating too many. The local ‘bittikos’ (small stores usually at the front of some body’s house) sell a whole range of biscuits and sweets all in bright colourful packaging with Arabic writing on them. Most Gambians have a sweet tooth and adults and children alike often consume a lot of these sweets and biscuits. People don’t seem to understand the importance of a balanced diet for nutritional purposes and though most people are able to get the quantity of food needed for growth they seldom get the variety of vitamins and minerals required for healthy developmental growth.
This doesn’t seem to affect their daily lives though and despite not having a healthy diet Gambians continue to do many hard laborious jobs (often in the heat). Some men go out to collect fire wood in the ‘bush’ all day, others dig sand for construction whilst some build and the women are constantly fetching and carrying water, working in the gardens and rice fields and carrying their young around on their back everywhere they go.
As far as pass times go the main one here (for men) is drinking a green tea which is known locally as ‘attayah’. The brewing of the tea follows a special procedure involving one very small tea pot, a charcoal burner, two small glass cups and a lot of sugar. The tea is poured from glass to glass several times before being served. It is then poured in small quantities in each of the glasses and passed around the group. Once you have finished your drinking you return the glass to the brewer who then re-fills it and passes it to another person in the group. The whole attayah making process takes about three hours and usually takes place in the shade under a mango tree. Though women drink attayah (myself included) I am yet to see a group of women gathered under a tree drinking green tea. I think this is often because they have very little spare time for this type of socialising.
Up-country people tend to be very friendly and here you can see why the country is called the ‘smiling coast’. The intentions of friendliness vary considerably from a general pleasantness and desire to greet people to a more motivated agenda of wanting to get something from you. As a westerner you are perceived as wealthy and an opportunity for a better life so many people will be friendly towards you and engineer friendships with the intention of getting money, sponsorship or belongings from you. Many Gambians have told me that good fortune and wealth is a gift from Allah rather than it being attributed to hard work and endeavour (or a mixture of the two) so therefore if a Gambian is fortunate enough to get employment and applies himself and works hard he is then expected to give financial handouts to the members of his family. In theory this is a lovely concept however I have met many Gambians who have found the expectations of handouts to family and friends financially crippling and say it often de-motivates people when it comes to applying themselves and bettering their personal situation.
Well I hope that this has given you more of a picture of The Gambia and the people. I hope that I haven’t made too many generalisations and as I have stated before all of this is based on my limited experience here. Everywhere in the world there are good and bad people, friendly and unfriendly, rich and poor and The Gambia is no exception.
Monday 23 May 2011
Thursday 19 May 2011
New Baby!!!!
Within a few months of arriving in The Gambia it became apparent that my lovely neighbour and friend Isatou was pregnant. Women in the Gambia don't talk about pregnancy, I am told that discussing it is a bit of a taboo (this was unfortunately something that I neglected to mention to my dad when he came out here to visit me and I remember cringing with anxiety as my father innocently asked a nervous and reluctant Isatou questions about her pregnancy in what to her must have felt like an inappropriate interrogation!! Bless them both!)
Anyway Isatou has looked like she has been 'ready' to give birth for about three months now, she was huge (and she has such a little frame). These last few months she's been really tired, hot and bothered and unfortunately despite her 'condition' there is little to no reprieve for women here, she was still getting on with her daily chores of collecting water, sweeping, cooking, cleaning, washing, ironing and looking after her other children, albeit at a much slower pace.
Well in the early hours of Wednesday morning, 3:26am to be precise (18th May 2011), Isatou gave birth to a beautiful little girl at Kerewan Health Centre. (Isatou is 27, this is her fourth child; she has a boy called Ebrima (9) who stays with relatives in Bakau (Kombo) and then two girls Basi (7) and Kaddy (3) who live with Isatou at Ceesay Kunda).
The adorable little baby (which I keep calling 'my baby' to everybody's amusement) has no name yet however the Muslim religion here dictates that 7 days after birth there will be a 'naming ceremony' during which the baby is given a name. (Isatou tells me that the father chooses the name of the children).
Baby is gorgeous and as far as I’m aware mother and baby are fine (from what I can see antenatal and postnatal care here in the Gambia is quite different to that in the UK).
So I’ve put some pictures of my lovely baby below! Next Wednesday is the 'naming ceremony' In shalla (that's Arabic for 'If God wills it') during which I will take more photographs and then put them on my blog!
Anyway Isatou has looked like she has been 'ready' to give birth for about three months now, she was huge (and she has such a little frame). These last few months she's been really tired, hot and bothered and unfortunately despite her 'condition' there is little to no reprieve for women here, she was still getting on with her daily chores of collecting water, sweeping, cooking, cleaning, washing, ironing and looking after her other children, albeit at a much slower pace.
Well in the early hours of Wednesday morning, 3:26am to be precise (18th May 2011), Isatou gave birth to a beautiful little girl at Kerewan Health Centre. (Isatou is 27, this is her fourth child; she has a boy called Ebrima (9) who stays with relatives in Bakau (Kombo) and then two girls Basi (7) and Kaddy (3) who live with Isatou at Ceesay Kunda).
The adorable little baby (which I keep calling 'my baby' to everybody's amusement) has no name yet however the Muslim religion here dictates that 7 days after birth there will be a 'naming ceremony' during which the baby is given a name. (Isatou tells me that the father chooses the name of the children).
Baby is gorgeous and as far as I’m aware mother and baby are fine (from what I can see antenatal and postnatal care here in the Gambia is quite different to that in the UK).
So I’ve put some pictures of my lovely baby below! Next Wednesday is the 'naming ceremony' In shalla (that's Arabic for 'If God wills it') during which I will take more photographs and then put them on my blog!
Senegal and Catherine!
On Monday morning I set out to visit one of the schools that I plan to work with over the next few weeks. The school is in a rural community in the north of the region close to the Senegalese boarder. I have visited the school before with the 'Cluster Monitor' but I followed him there on my bike and paid little attention to the route that we took. If I am being really honest I find that once you get off the road and out into the 'bush' (sort of like 'outback', uninhabited areas where people might grow crops, graze cattle or just never visit - also home to hyena, bush rat, snakes, scorpions etc etc) everywhere looks the same. However on this fine Monday morning, I set off on my own with a full tank of petrol, a freshly cleaned spark plug, a bottle of water, a map and a head full of 'directional advice' - ready to 'find' the school.
Now at this point I have to comment that many of the Gambians that I have met have been notably poor at giving 'directional advice' and unfortunately the advice I was given regarding reaching this particular village was no exception. (Many Gambians have given me directions with no 'left' or 'right' just actions, no landmarks/features to indicate position and the directions are often relayed to me in a different language). In this particular instance I was told that all I had to do was 'turn there (I deduced that he meant 'off the road') go that way (he motioned left) and take the road (other than the one main 'North Bank road' there are no other 'roads' up-country so I concluded that he meant 'track' rather than 'road')'.
I followed the main road until the point at which I believed that I should turn off and then carried on following the 'road' (which like I said is really a 'dirt/sand track' etched out by years of donkey carts travelling between villages). I continued on the track going through villages, woodland and bush trying to stop my bike from tipping in the sand whilst also dodging chickens, goats, sheep and children (who always chase my bike waving and shouting 'toubabo' at me). At various points the track forked with both routes looking equally as established however I just thought to myself 'if you keep to the left and go straight then you won’t get lost and stranded in the bush!' Oh happy I was on my little adventure.
After a while though the villages became sparse and I had spent a considerable amount of time just following the now even less established track north bound. I was aware that I was literally in the middle of the bush. The 'happiness' was wearing off but luckily the impending panic turned to relief as a spotted another village in the distance.
As I rode into the village I could see the surprise (boarding on astonishment) of the locals. I stopped by a well, got off my bike and greeted the small crowd that had gathered using the universal Muslim greeting of peace. I then used my best Mandinka (one of the Gambia languages) to explain that I was lost and to ask for 'directions' to my intended destination.
Within a few seconds it became apparent that nobody in the village spoke Mandinka (or English) and that communication was going to be difficult. As this realisation was taking place some of the bolder members of the community began to 'touch' me, they stroked my hair, touched me, my clothes, my bike and seemed to marvel in the unfamiliarity of it all. A little disturbed by the fact that I was clearly the only 'toubab' (foreigner/white person) who had stopped off at this village for a LONG time (maybe even EVER) I decided to thank the villages, quickly get on my bike and ride off (I must confess that I've seen too many films in my lifetime and as wrong as it is I couldn't help but think that it was only a matter of time before they either made me a member of the village, the alkalo's (chief) fourth wife or killed me believing me to be a white devil or infidel - either way I would never escape)!
I sped off (not too quick and with extra caution as I was concerned that if I fell off my bike here I really would be at the mercy of the villagers) and returned back down the track from which I came. Fortunately after a short while I came across a cattle herder who was able to point me in the direction of the village I was trying to get to. His 'direction' took me off the track and caused me to drive straight through the bush in the hope that we really had understood each other during our brief communication. Amazingly after some time I saw another village in the distance and headed there in anticipation.
This time I had the right place!!! The Head Teacher was pleased to see me and said that he was concerned when he saw that I was late to arrive as he was worried that I might not have been able to find the school! I told him about my exciting journey, told him the route I had taken and pointed out the direction from which I came from. The Head Teacher was really amused. He said that I had crossed the Senegalese border and the villages that I visited were in fact Senegal not Gambia. He explained that there is no boarder control in various up-country rural areas and that these are usually the chosen routes for people wishing to take the 'back way' between the Gambia and Senegal. If I had been 'caught' by Senegalese immigration I would have been in really big trouble!!
So technically I can now say that I have also been to Senegal. It wasn’t an intentional trip and I don’t have the stamp in my passport to prove it however I'm sure that in some of the Senegalese villages just over the Gambian boarder they will be talking about the 'toubab woman on a motorbike' for months, maybe even years to come!!
Just to complete this story (and explain how 'Catherine' got in the title) when I was at the school observing and working with teachers the Head Teacher asked me to come and greet a lady who was eager to see me? Apparently a few years ago a white woman visited this community, an American Peace Corp by the name of Catherine. At the time the lady (who was eager to see me) was expecting a child. Once the child was born her husband named her 'Catherine' after the white woman. Well the child was born and she is now about 3 or 4 years old and when she saw me arrive at the school she thought I was Catherine (who she was named after but never met) and in excitement she left the school and ran into the village to find her mother to tell her that Catherine (her name-sake) was here at the school to see her!!
I really wanted to pretend to be Catherine! The little girl was so cute and so excited about seeing the lady she was named after!! However the Head Teacher seemed a little shocked by my desire to impersonate somebody else and said that he had explained to the mother of the child who I was and though she was disappointed that I wasn’t in fact Catherine she still wanted to greet me! I took a photograph of little Catherine and told the Head Teacher to tell her and her mother that she had a special name and that I was so happy to see them both because she shared a wonderful name with MY little sister!
Now at this point I have to comment that many of the Gambians that I have met have been notably poor at giving 'directional advice' and unfortunately the advice I was given regarding reaching this particular village was no exception. (Many Gambians have given me directions with no 'left' or 'right' just actions, no landmarks/features to indicate position and the directions are often relayed to me in a different language). In this particular instance I was told that all I had to do was 'turn there (I deduced that he meant 'off the road') go that way (he motioned left) and take the road (other than the one main 'North Bank road' there are no other 'roads' up-country so I concluded that he meant 'track' rather than 'road')'.
I followed the main road until the point at which I believed that I should turn off and then carried on following the 'road' (which like I said is really a 'dirt/sand track' etched out by years of donkey carts travelling between villages). I continued on the track going through villages, woodland and bush trying to stop my bike from tipping in the sand whilst also dodging chickens, goats, sheep and children (who always chase my bike waving and shouting 'toubabo' at me). At various points the track forked with both routes looking equally as established however I just thought to myself 'if you keep to the left and go straight then you won’t get lost and stranded in the bush!' Oh happy I was on my little adventure.
After a while though the villages became sparse and I had spent a considerable amount of time just following the now even less established track north bound. I was aware that I was literally in the middle of the bush. The 'happiness' was wearing off but luckily the impending panic turned to relief as a spotted another village in the distance.
As I rode into the village I could see the surprise (boarding on astonishment) of the locals. I stopped by a well, got off my bike and greeted the small crowd that had gathered using the universal Muslim greeting of peace. I then used my best Mandinka (one of the Gambia languages) to explain that I was lost and to ask for 'directions' to my intended destination.
Within a few seconds it became apparent that nobody in the village spoke Mandinka (or English) and that communication was going to be difficult. As this realisation was taking place some of the bolder members of the community began to 'touch' me, they stroked my hair, touched me, my clothes, my bike and seemed to marvel in the unfamiliarity of it all. A little disturbed by the fact that I was clearly the only 'toubab' (foreigner/white person) who had stopped off at this village for a LONG time (maybe even EVER) I decided to thank the villages, quickly get on my bike and ride off (I must confess that I've seen too many films in my lifetime and as wrong as it is I couldn't help but think that it was only a matter of time before they either made me a member of the village, the alkalo's (chief) fourth wife or killed me believing me to be a white devil or infidel - either way I would never escape)!
I sped off (not too quick and with extra caution as I was concerned that if I fell off my bike here I really would be at the mercy of the villagers) and returned back down the track from which I came. Fortunately after a short while I came across a cattle herder who was able to point me in the direction of the village I was trying to get to. His 'direction' took me off the track and caused me to drive straight through the bush in the hope that we really had understood each other during our brief communication. Amazingly after some time I saw another village in the distance and headed there in anticipation.
This time I had the right place!!! The Head Teacher was pleased to see me and said that he was concerned when he saw that I was late to arrive as he was worried that I might not have been able to find the school! I told him about my exciting journey, told him the route I had taken and pointed out the direction from which I came from. The Head Teacher was really amused. He said that I had crossed the Senegalese border and the villages that I visited were in fact Senegal not Gambia. He explained that there is no boarder control in various up-country rural areas and that these are usually the chosen routes for people wishing to take the 'back way' between the Gambia and Senegal. If I had been 'caught' by Senegalese immigration I would have been in really big trouble!!
So technically I can now say that I have also been to Senegal. It wasn’t an intentional trip and I don’t have the stamp in my passport to prove it however I'm sure that in some of the Senegalese villages just over the Gambian boarder they will be talking about the 'toubab woman on a motorbike' for months, maybe even years to come!!
Just to complete this story (and explain how 'Catherine' got in the title) when I was at the school observing and working with teachers the Head Teacher asked me to come and greet a lady who was eager to see me? Apparently a few years ago a white woman visited this community, an American Peace Corp by the name of Catherine. At the time the lady (who was eager to see me) was expecting a child. Once the child was born her husband named her 'Catherine' after the white woman. Well the child was born and she is now about 3 or 4 years old and when she saw me arrive at the school she thought I was Catherine (who she was named after but never met) and in excitement she left the school and ran into the village to find her mother to tell her that Catherine (her name-sake) was here at the school to see her!!
I really wanted to pretend to be Catherine! The little girl was so cute and so excited about seeing the lady she was named after!! However the Head Teacher seemed a little shocked by my desire to impersonate somebody else and said that he had explained to the mother of the child who I was and though she was disappointed that I wasn’t in fact Catherine she still wanted to greet me! I took a photograph of little Catherine and told the Head Teacher to tell her and her mother that she had a special name and that I was so happy to see them both because she shared a wonderful name with MY little sister!
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| Catherine (stood in the Head Teacher's office. Also that's an interesting picture in the background?) |
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