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?)

Kaddy come quick, your house smells of gas!

Today I was sat in the office working on a report when I received a telephone call from somebody from the compound (Ceesay Kunda) asking me where I was and telling me that my house smelt of gas. Concerned about the potential gas disaster I told the caller that I would return home immediately and I quickly set off on my motorbike. As I left the office the Regional Director asked me where I was going and I briefly explained the nature of the call I had received and he too urged me to head home with haste.

As I arrived at the compound I was surprised to see the two men from the compound (Dad and Step-dad) calmly sat outside, especially considering the potential danger, however I dismissed it as 'cultural differences' and quickly rode through the gate.

As I pulled up to my house there was a whole crowd of compound people gathered round laughing, clapping and shouting something. It took a few seconds to work out what they were saying but then it became apparent that they were saying, 'April fools, April fools'.

My first thought that went through my head was, 'are these people for real?!!!' They called me from work telling me about a gas leakage all as part of an April fool’s joke? I'm at WORK for goodness sake!' However within a few minutes I burst out laughing - half of me was relieved that my house wasn’t going to blow up and the other half of me was amused by the compound people's lack of awareness of the inappropriateness of their April fools 'joke'.

Bless em!!!

Run for Cover!

When I first arrived in Kerewan, VSO supplied me with a large gas canister which I attached to my gas stove. Though I'm a little ashamed to admit that I don't actually know how much gas the canister holds I can tell you that the canister itself is about a metre high, exceptionally heavy and that it lasted a whole 6 months (being used daily) before it finally ran out. But run out it did so I had to look into getting it refilled.

Despite the fact that refilling the canister sounds like a relatively simple task, it really isn’t! The empty canister has to be taken to the nearest big city to fill it (Farafenni) and it is far too large and impractical to transport around. So after much negotiation I managed to get somebody to agree to do the transportation and I handed over the rather large sum of money which was required to fill the canister.

When I finally got the canister back in my house I reconnected it to the gas cooker only to find that the tap at the top of the canister (which turns the flow of gas on and off) would not turn. I tried several times but was unable to turn the gas on. So I gave Nathan a call and asked him if he would come over and give me a hand.

Despite his best efforts Nathan too was unable to turn the gas tap on therefore I decided to ask a couple of the men on my compound, perhaps there was a knack to it which Nathan and I just didn’t know about?

Well the compound men came in to help and there didn’t seem to be any special technique to it at all, they just went for the sheer force approach. Within minutes of being in the house one of the men did something to the gas tank which suddenly caused the tap to blow off altogether and the gas to come bellowing out of it.

Everyone’s instincts are different and as soon as I heard the bang of the gas tap hitting the ceiling I ran to the nearest exit (which for me was at the rear of the house). The two men from the compound who had come to ‘help’ also ran for cover (out the front of the house), one of them pulling the door closed on the way out leaving poor bewildered Nathan stood in the middle of a gas-filled room! I don’t want to spoil the end of the story but for the sake of all those who worry about my well-being - both Nathan and I survived this ordeal!

Within seconds the whole house was full of gas as the entire canister just emptied there and then in the middle of the living room. (That’s 6 months worth of gas!!) Intrigued by the noise and commotion a whole crowd of people quickly gathered round the front of the house and once they had seen and smelt what had happened they all started shouting at me (who was stranded at the rear of the building) not to enter the house again.

Well I stood out the back for a few minutes but then the gas was all around me so I had no choice but to run back through the gas-filled house to the front of the building. For the remainder of the evening I sat outside the house with all the doors and windows open however the gas just wouldn’t disperse. Needless to say I couldn’t sleep in the house that night. I did have to go in to get some overnight essentials and the whol ordeal left me a little delirious and light-headed.

So how do I feel about wasting so much money, time and effort and having a house full of gas? Well to tell you the truth I feel bloody lucky because if the gas leakage had happened only half an hour or so later than when it actually did then it would have coincided with the electricity coming on and that initial surge of power could have been disaster for all of us in the house. On reflection we were all very lucky indeed!!

Pigtails?

For some time now a few of the girls on my compound have been putting pressure on me saying that I should braid (plait) my hair. The girls (and women) frequently plait their hair and every few weeks they will have new and wonderful styles.

Usually friends/sisters/mothers will braid each other’s hair but occasionally if there is an event coming up, a special occasion or you just feel like something different, then there are people in the town who you can go to who are known for being able to do good plaiting.

So recently I caved in to the pressure and went to see Julde (a really nice girl who stays in the compound opposite me and who is known for her plaiting ability!) to see if she would be able to braid my hair. Apparently a few years ago Julde braided a 'toubabos' (white person) hair (a previous VSO) and was up for the challenge!

I sat on the floor in Julde's compound whilst she set to work. Four hours later Julde announced that she had finished and all those around (a small crowd had gathered to see the toubab hair show!) were suitably impressed. Though I hadn't actually seen my hair, about half way through I realised that Julde was creating 'pigtails' (something Westerners like myself usually associate with children!) so I was happy to see that Gambian's clearly didn’t have the same perception of pigtails as we do in the west!!

After the initial shock of looking in the mirror and realising that I was now a 31yr old woman with pigtails, the hairstyle really grew on me (excuse the pun)!!

I've had my braids in for almost a week now and I’m actually starting to really like them. I love the fact that I don’t have to wash my hair (or even think about it)! Admittedly putting my motorbike helmet on was a little tricky but I seem to have mastered that now!! I'm even starting to think about what style of braids I will have next!!

The Family Visit!!!

I've been in The Gambia for just over 6 months now and I'm still having a wonderful time. I'm learning new things every day, meeting new and interesting people and I feel like I’m really getting to know the place.

A couple of weeks ago my Dad and sister (Cathy) came out to visit. It was really great to see them and we had a super time. They had an action-packed week and even managed to do an overnight stay in Kerewan!

During their stay here we went to church in Bakau and then to Bakau fish market and watched the fishermen bring in the evening catch. We went on a long (but lovely) boat trip to Juffureh, an old trading post and slave factory (made famous by Alex Haley's book 'Roots' and believed to be the home of the legendary Kunta Kinteh) and learnt more about the slave trade and the historical role that Gambia had during those days. We took a smaller boat over to James Island (recently renamed Kunta Kinteh Island). We also went to another fishing village called Tanji and also strolled on one of the beaches in the Senegambia area.

Like I mentioned earlier we went to Kerewan so dad and Cath got to experience the ferry crossing (Banjul/Barra) as well as getting to see where I live and meeting some of my friends and compound people. We also got to eat two home-made Gambia dishes, chicken yassa and benachin (courtesy of Aja Ceesay). We wet for strolls, evening drinks, saw crocodiles, visited craft markets and local gardens and fended off numerous bumsters!

We had a great time and I really enjoyed their visit (and that's not just because I got to stay with them in the luxury hotel with running hot water and an unlimited power supply)!!! Both Dad and Cath are talking about coming out again and I really hope they do!

I want to thank everyone who sent things out with Dad and Cath, the bats, balls etc were really popular and the children love them. Thank you as well for the luxury items that were sent out for me, they are fantastic and you've been so generous. Luckily Nathan doesn't eat that much chocolate and the taste is far too rich for the locals so more for me!!

Me and Dad at Calypso (one of our favourite hangouts)

Dad with his feet in the Atlantic Ocean

Bakau fish market

The fishermen bringing in their catch (Bakau)

The hussle of the fishmarket (Bakau)

Juffureh/Albreda

Statue at the slave museum at Juffureh

Juffureh (at the museum)

Cath and I meeting the Alkali of Juffureh (this is the village leader and this lady if one of the two female Alkali's in The Gambia)

Dad and the Alkali

James Island (now Kunta Kinteh Island)

Bakemo (Ceesay), Dad, Buba (Ceesay) and Cath at Tanji fishing village

Tanji fishing village

Some of my Kerewan friends (from left to right, Lamin, Famara, Sainey and Famara)

The fish at Tanji (they smoke them like this until they are brown and almost burnt looking and then they last a long time)

The fish being smoked (Tanji)

Me and Cath at the hotel (Ocean Bay, Cape Point)

Dad and Dad (Dad with Dembo Fula Ceesay, the big dad on my compound)

Me with two of my Kerewan friends, Sainey and Famara

Nathan helping to start the fire so we can brew green tea

The ferry (loading ready for the crossing from Bajul to Barra)

The ferry loading (from Barra to Banjul)

Buba, Me and Bakemo outside my house in Kerewan (Buba currently lives on Ceesay Kunda and Bakemo grew up here but now lives in America)

Up-country housing (near Tambana)

Dad outside my house fanning the attayah burner

One of the crocodiles in the water next to Calypso bar

Hyena and attayah!

I want to begin by thanking people for their Christmas cards and the Christmas gifts that I have started receiving. I know that Christmas has finished but it's really cool getting post and when I do I put the cards up in my house. I know I haven’t got them all yet but thanks again for sending them - it's greatly appreciated!

Well the new year has been a great one and already I am embracing the new experiences of 2011!!

A couple of days ago I was out visiting schools and once again I encountered motorbike problems! The rear tyre got a puncture. I was quite impressed with the fact that I realised there was a problem so soon! The bike started swaying from left to right as though there was a huge wind pushing me from one side of the road to another! It was scary!!

I pulled over and called riders for help! It was whilst waiting for the tyre to be fixed that I got talking to some local people and they told me about a man in a nearby village who went into the 'bush' and killed a hyena! I was keen to see this hyena so I left my bike by the roadside and went to investigate.

It wasn’t long before I saw a crowd of people all gathered round the gate of a compound just off the road. I walked into the compound, greeted everyone and then made my way over to the group of men kneeling over something on the floor. When I saw the hyena I couldn’t believe my eyes - it was huge!

Even though the hyena was dead (and in the middle of being skinned) it still looked terrifying! I was both excited by what I was seeing but also petrified to think that these things live in the bush and so close to me!!!

The guy who had killed it (he shot it) was a hunter (a hardcore little man who roams the bush at night). As I got talking to people about hyenas it became apparent how difficult they are to kill. Apparently they move around in groups and they are really intelligent? Also they are supposed to have very strong jaws and once they bite they don’t let go!

There is quite a degree of superstition and myths surrounding hyenas here in The Gambia and people's beliefs vary dramatically considering where they live (my Gambian friends in Kombo for example think that eating hyena is bad luck whereas here in Kerewan the prospect of eating this unusual meat seems to excite people)!

I really wanted to take a photo but I didn't know how appropriate that would be so I politely asked the crowd if I could take a picture. The gathering were also excited by the kill (it's not a common thing to kill a hyena) and they were keen to let me take a photo. A little later the mechanic (who had arrived to fix my puncture) showed up and he purchased some of the meat.

Later that evening one of the guys from Riders cooked hyena and Nathan and I joined him for dinner!! Paul didn't seem keen on trying the meat so he stayed at home.

It tasted good! Quite salty and a bit gristly (but that's just because they don’t prepare the meat cuts properly here)! Not all Gambian's have tasted hyena and from what I can gather it's quite a 'bush' thing to eat! So not only am I becoming a Gambian woman I’m now a Gambian bush woman!!!!

As a side I also want to mention that I can now brew my own attayah (that's the green tea that people drink here). The brewing process takes some time and the little tea pot and the glasses that you pour it in to get really hot but I’m slowly burning away my fingertips and soon I won’t feel the pain at all!!!

The kill!! The guy knelt down is the hunter.

This man wanted to show me how sharp the teeth were!!

Me brewing green tea!

Christmas, New Year and new friends!!!

I decided to spend Christmas and the New Year in Kerewan rather than heading for the bright lights of the city. Many VSOs return to England for Christmas or go to Kombo. Some stay in a posh hotels and lots of VSOs had family around who had come over to visit them (escaping the cold weather in the UK!)So my decision to stay 'up-country' on 'my own' came as a surprise to many!

Christmas kind of crept up on me! As I have mentioned before there were no signs of Christmas here in Kerewan, not a single sparkle of tinsel and it was actually quite refreshing! I think it will be unlikely that I’ll ever have such a 'commercial free' Christmas again!

On Christmas morning I got up nice and early and rode my motorbike to Farafenni (about an hour and a half ride) so that I could attend a Catholic Church service. Farafenni is much bigger than Kerewan; it has a huge hospital, a market, gelly (transport) park, immigration office, police station etc. Consequently it has a few 'ghetto' like places on the edge of town and it was in the middle of one of these that the church was situated.

I parked my bike in a more secure area in the town itself and then walked to the church. I got quite a few stares!! Needless to say I was the only white person at the church! The service itself was in Jolof (one of the local languages here) with occasional bits of English thrown in.

After mass I purchased some material so that I could make some cushion covers for my house (I love the material here, one of my neighbours recently commented that my house was decorated with so many random colours and materials - it wasn't actually intended as a compliment but I took it that way!) and then made my way home.

My bike broke down (again) on the way home but luckily it was very close to 'Riders' (the garage) which was really convenient! I finally got home around 3pm!! When I got in I gave out some sweets to the people on the compound (this is a traditional thing that you do on special occasions, I’ve mentioned it before but to remind you it is called 'saliboo') and wished them all a merry Christmas. This went down really well and for the rest of the day every time I saw someone from the compound they started singing merry Christmas to me (in the tune of happy birthday!!)

I then made mash potatoes and gravy (I'd purchased a bisto on my last trip to Kombo)!! I made enough for everyone to try some and then sat eating it whilst listening to Christmas songs. The people on my compound were intrigued and many of them now think that this is what white people 'do' at Christmas!!!

In the evening time I sat outside my house and brewed 'lait' (this is a sweet milky drink made out of condensed cream and it's absolutely gorgeous - you brew it in a similar way to 'attayah'). Me and my compound people (or my compound people and I) sat outside until late evening chatting and drinking lait whilst listening to Bob Marley. It was really nice. A very spiritual Christmas. Good for the soul!!

Which brings me on to new year!! I had intended to go to the big city for New Year because apparently that is where the party is at! However due to circumstances (namely Nathan's indecisiveness - but that's a whole different story) I ended up staying in Kerewan.

Though I had a lovely time at Christmas I felt that I wanted a change in scenery (people wise) for the New Year celebrations! Conveniently just before the New Year I made some new friends here in Kerewan! A new set of people and a new place to hang out! So on new year’s eve I went to my new friends 'spot', drank lait (the pass-times are quite similar!)listened to music (I have appropriate music for every occasion and my new friends were suitably impressed with my music collection and knowledge of particular artists!!)and then chilled with them for the evening. They were great company and just what I needed for the New Year!!

So I had a 'different' Christmas and a 'different' New Year experience but both were wonderful! The only thing lacking of course was family! (Oh and good food, presents, board games, alcohol, crackers etc).

There were no holidays for Christmas and the new year as they fell on weekends and now things are pretty much back to normal in Kerewan (or 'the wan' as Paul and I affectionately call it). I have noticed that I seemed to have gained a lot more respect from many locals here for staying around at Christmas and New Year, (I don’t think many VSOs do that) and now, as well as my 'new friends', I also have lots more people wanting to greet me, talk to me and inviting me to drink and eat with them! I'm becoming quite popular!!