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Any views expressed are my own and are not representative of VSO.
I have just finished reading a wonderful book called 'Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell'. It was very long (1006 pages!) but as I was approaching the end of it I felt that it wasn’t long enough and I wanted it to go on forever. In fact now that I have finished reading it I feel a little lost!
I don’t really want to talk about it too much just in case any of you decide to read it! It was just wonderful!!
MUM – I really think you should buy it and read it. I’m sure that you will like it and I would love to talk to you about it.
Anyway the book was recommended to me some time ago by a wonderfully insightful man called Martin Fallon (I am so pleased that he shared it with me that I believe it is important to credit him in this way). Initially he lent me a hardback version of the book (which was huge) but I just didn’t have the time to read it. So I purchased a paperback version and took it to The Gambia with me.
Now I would never want to accuse Martin of being in anyway cynical HOWEVER just to prove that the book actually made it to The Gambia I have gone to the trouble of taking some pictures as ‘evidence’. Should Martin doubt that I have read the book (which I’m sure he wouldn’t) I would be thrilled to talk to him about it!!!
I've been trying to take pictures of all the people who live on the compound with the hope of devising a final version HOWEVER this is proving impossible because at different times of the year there are different family members here.
These pictures were all taken around September and since then most of the people have remained but some have left and more have returned. Therefore I have missed quite few people out (children mainly).
Anyway, the top row shows Dad and then Step-dad, followed by Dad's two wives and then Step-dad's two wives. The next few rows are their children (in no specific order). There are more children than this but some are grown up and have left the compound and others are studying or live elsewhere (Dad has two sons in America).
The last few rows show the people who rent on the compound (Paul and I included). I will try to update this and take photos of some of the people who I now see daily but just haven't photographed yet!!
At the weekend, Nathan (the peace corp based in Kerewan) came over to the house asking if I would give him a haircut. Initially I was really excited; the idea of taking scissors and snipping away at his hair (Edward Scissor Hands-like) filled me with delight.
I soon came back down to earth though and felt duty bound to tell Nathan that I had little to no experience in cutting hair and the only time I had attempted it (once at Uni) it was a disaster and became one of the contributing factors to the demise of a friendship.
However this was Nathan that I was talking to and he didn’t seem overly concerned about my slight lapse in confidence. So off I went to Nathan's house where the cutting commenced.
It took me a while at first to regain my spark (the evil friend at uni had deterred me from cutting hair ever again) and then I was off. Snip, snip, snip. It was so much fun, I really did feel like I knew what I was doing.
Once I had completed both Nathan and I were pleased with the cut! I did however spend the rest of the day looking at his hair when we were talking and once, mid-conversation I even gave it an extra snip!
What a huge success!! SO I have posted some pictures to show a BEFORE and AFTER cut so you can see my handy work. Incidentally Nathan's facial expression was a little, should we say 'vacant' on the first picture therefore adding to the contrast on the second!
I have shared my house with a mouse (or two) for some time now and though I’ve seen it a couple of times and occasionally heard it running around and scratching through the night - I was just beginning to accept that having a mice in your house was a way of life here. That is until the mouse started pushing the boundaries.
Initially on discovering the mouse I put down a 'humane' mouse trap. That was unsuccessful but at that point I wasn’t seeing any mouse droppings around the house so I’d deluded myself into thinking that it left. A few weeks later my family sent me out some 'sonar mouse repellents', these are plug in devices that give out a disturbing noise that only mice can hear. When I used these in England they worked a treat but for some reason the Gambian mice don’t seem all that bothered about them (possibly because the electricity is not on all day so therefore they only have to stay out of the house when the power is on, after that the noise has stopped and they are free to roam).
Since plugging in these the devises the mice have stepped up their game (maybe payback) and now the scuttling around on the floor at night and the scratching has increased. Also when I get up in the morning there are mouse droppings all over my cooker, clean dishes and books (I think they are going for the things that they know will annoy me the most).
Well recently I have not been well and therefore I just didn’t have the energy or desire to tackle the problem however yesterday I decided to make a start on the mouse eradication process. I moved the two key items of furniture that I know they run around in, I swept away all of the mouse droppings, re-washed all the dishes and bleached everything. I even rearranged my house to make mouse movement between key furniture less convenient. (Rearranging the house was particularly difficult as half the compound was sat in my house watching what I was doing)! During this massive de-mouse I glimpsed the tail of one but it got away in our mutual panic!
When I had finished my sweeping, rearranging and bleaching I was very proud of myself (not to mention hot and sweaty) and I decided to have a wash. As I walked into the bedroom I glanced over to my bed and there, right in the middle of my bed was a mouse dropping!!! I couldn’t believe my eyes. The cheeky little bugger had vacated the room I had been cleaning and was spending its free time running around on my bed leaving its little droppings as souvenirs. A few nights ago I woke up in the middle of the night thinking that I saw a mouse in my bed but then I put it down to my crazy dreams!
So now it is war. I will be content with nothing short of mouse genocide. The mice on my cooker - disgusting, the mice in my clean dishes - gross, the mice on my books - annoying, the mice in my bed - HELL NO!
Later today I hope to do a detailed inspection of the mattress and pillows (sometimes they make little nests in the mattress). When I next go to Kombo at the weekend I am going to buy some material (to fill the gaps under and around the door frames) and some masking tape (to cover up the holes in the ceiling). I will also have to buy a sealed container for my clean dishes. My family have purchased some UK style traditional mouse traps (which I haven’t seen anywhere here) and they will be sending them out shortly.
Hopefully within the next few weeks my house will be mouse-free. I don’t know if that is just a dream (one of the girls on my compound who was bemused by my de-mouse efforts told me that you can never get rid of them). Who knows? Maybe the mice in my house will be hard to eradicate (especially as the travel through the ceilings and holes in the wall) HOWEVER I will try. War has commenced! (At a very slow Gambian pace - as I can’t actually do anything until I get to Kombo and my traps arrive!!)
On a recent trip to Kombo (yet another medical visit!) I decided to take some pictures of the boats that I took across the Gambia (as mentioned in a previous entry). It was starting to get dark and as the ferry was working, the boats were virtually empty but I thought it might give you an idea of what they looked like. Remember they pack these boats with people and livestock (and a lot of people at that).
I will keep this as brief as possible as not to relive the horrors of that fateful night. As the title suggests there was a ‘disaster’ that involved a croc. I will temporarily relieve your anxiety by telling you that no individual was left physically hurt by this incident and it did not involve a large green coloured animal but in fact a small black shoe – a croc.
On the evening of Saturday 9th October I (Vicky Anderson/Kaddy Ceesay) went out to the pit latrine wearing two black crocs, one on each foot. After concluding my business in the pit I fumbled slightly with my clothing and accidently knocked one of my crocs into the latrine.
It was too dark and far too dangerous (so many bugs, frogs, mice, rats and lizards around) to address the matter that evening so I had to resign myself to investigating the possibility of a croc rescue mission the following morning. Needless to say I had a restless night.
Early the next morning, I spent a considerable amount of time on my hands and knees peering into my latrine. I located the croc and using a coat hanger and piece of string I embarked on a rescue mission. Sadly to no avail. With a pain in my heart I accepted that the croc was lost forever and sealed its fate by completing my morning ‘business’.
The only good thing about this whole story (because really it was a disaster and a great tragedy as I used the crocs on a daily basis, they were my house shoes and they were only a few months old and they were actually ‘crocs’ – not replicas!!) is the fact that my crocs were black so therefore I have to really focus to see the one in the latrine and hopefully in time I will come to forget it is there! (Will have to hide the other though as it serves as a constant reminder!)
The remaining croc by the latrine (a very sad sight indeed - was almost reduced to tears taking this picture)
Last week it was necessary for me to go back to Kombo (Senegambia to be more precise) to visit my doctor (the rashes on my hands and arms were just getting out of hand - excuse the pun). VSO cover our health care costs and ask that we register at a place in Senegambia called 'Africmed'. It's not a particularly big place but they do everything there! They have a room which serves as a ward, another that they use as a labour ward, they have an x-ray room, 3 doctor consultation rooms, a pharmacy and even a room which they use as a laboratory (they do all the blood, urine etc sampling onsite as there is no central place to send them to).
I made the decision to leave Kerewan on Wednesday afternoon and after work I went home, packed my bag and made my way to Barra. It was particularly hot that afternoon and I had to wait for ages for a gelly to Barra and when one finally came it was very crowded and exceptionally slow! From the gelly park I made my way through the market to the ferry only to find that all crossings had been cancelled due to docking problems at Barra. (There wasn’t a notice explaining this information - just huge queues and it actually took quite a while to ascertain what was going on).
I was really disappointed, I wanted to get to Banjul so that I could go to the doctors and couldn’t face having to get a gelly back to Kerewan (from Barra you have to wait until the gelly fills up before it will set off and that can take hours). Suddenly I remember Paul telling me about the 'boats', an alternative to using the ferry so I decided to locate the boats.
I discovered the boats on the beach close to the ferry port. The beach was really crowded and lots of men had circled me and were asking me questions and telling me things in a variety of languages. I managed to block most of their chat and concentrated on what was going on on the beach. There were around four boats there and each was like huge rowing boat (what people might use as fishing boats here). One was 'unloading' and the others were 'loading up' - all of them were floating in the river about 20meters from the shore. At first I was confused and was wondering how people got on to the boats and then after some close observation I realised that people were being carried through the water to and from the boats!!
Panic set in and at the thought of someone having to carry me on their shoulders to the boat (I was worried that they wouldn’t physically be able to lift me and that I might cripple them, not to mention the risk of falling off their shoulders and getting completely soaked). I was really torn. What should I do? How badly did I want to get to Banjul?
I watched for a little longer and finally decided that the boat was my best option. I looked around at the swarm of men all offering to carry me to the boat (obviously for a price) and selected the biggest, strongest looking man that I could. He came up behind me, put his head through my legs and lifted me onto his shoulders. He then waded through the water and threw me onto the boat!
The journey itself was a bumpy one. I was sat in such a position that it meant that I couldn’t actually see anything so I had no idea where we were and how far away we were from land! I spent the whole 45 minutes rocking from left to right watching a little man with a bucket trying to scoop out the water that was filling the bottom of the boat! I think that was actually his job!! Anyway eventually I made it to dry land and though getting off the boat at Banjul was tricky it didn’t require me climbing onto anyone’s shoulders and potentially crippling yet another Gambian!!
I spent all of that evening (and most of the following day) at the Africmed centre waiting to see a doctor and then waiting for blood tests etc (apparently something they so routinely in the malaria season). I was worried that by the time I left I would actually have picked up something more severe than the skin rash I went in for!
Anyway, you will all be pleased to know that I am fine! He doctor believes that I was having an allergic reaction to the anti-malaria tablets that I was taking and after applying some cream and changing tablets my rash has virtually gone! Since returning from my boat adventure I have told many people about it and have gained serious respect (not strictly true as many people thought I was crazy) for braving the boats across the river!
