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!
 

Catherine (stood in the Head Teacher's office. Also that's an interesting picture in the background?)