Training Village Home

I have now left the training village behind but I have not written all that I want to about the training village.   The people are amazing.  The village is truly a community.  Children can wander without fear and people will look out for them.  If someone is hungry they will be fed.  The people have little compared to Americans but will share it all.

The country is flat but with many trees.  The mango trees are my favorite of course.  I have been eating fresh mangoes ever since I go here.  But as the season wore on the fruit bats got more active.  When it is dark, they come out and go after the mangoes.  Thankfully I never had an up close and personal contact with them but from watching them shoot across overhead I would say that their wing span is at least a foot across and many are larger.  Once they come out at night you can hear mangoes thudding to the ground.  I don't see much evidence of them eating the  mangoes on the ground so I imagine that they land on the mangoes to eat them and their weight makes the stem break.  But that is just my theory.

I wanted to include pictures from my compound.  The first set of pictures are of my living quarters.  Peace Corps has specifications of what need to be in the trainees' housing.  So mine met all of the qualifications with the added bonus of a gekko in the ceiling.  The two yellow things in the corner are my bedongs.  One of them holds water from an open well that I used for bathing and clothes washing.  The other bedong holds water from a tap that I use for drinking.  My sister had to go about 1/3 of a mile to haul that water back.  But it is much safer to drink since debris and dead animals cannot fall into it.  The bedongs originally held cooking oil.  They use a lot of cooking oil here.  The shelves you see are my dresser.  But I considered myself lucky because everyone did not get a set of shelves.  The bucket is what I used for my bucket bath.  I will tell you that bucket bath was wonderful as a bedtime ritual.  I would be hot and sweaty and that would cool me off just in time for bed.  It was a good thing.

The picture below is the front door to my room.  If you look closely you can see  a corrugated metal door.  I had similar doors on all of the windows and back door.  They were good for privacy and safety.  But, boy, when they were all closed the room got stinky -- a very humid smell.

Here is a picture of my ceiling on top of which the gekko crawls.  This is a fake ceiling  underneath a corrugate ceiling.  It is made from bags that contained some kind of nasty chemical from what I can read but I am the 5th or 6th PCV to occupy the room so no one has died from the ill effects.

This is obviously my bed.  The pink is mosquito netting, an absolute must have.  The mosquitoes are vicious here.  I never see or hear them but I am covered with bites.  It is disgusting.  The blue thing is a fabulous camp towel given to me at my retirement party.  I highly recommend it -- very absorbent and dries quickly.  There is also a blue trunk provided by the Peace Corps next to my bed.  It has two padlocks but also served well as a bedside table.

The next one is my water filter.  I would pour the water from the tap bedong into the top of the filter.  It ran through some ceramic filters into the holding tank below.  Then, when I was doing what I was supposed to, I would put 3 drops of bleach into a liter of the water.  Then it was safe for human consumption.  Take note of the mango on the desk.

So that was my home sweet home up until this past Saturday.  Stay tuned for pictures of my new place once I have it put together.

Cross your fingers for my language test.

The Naming Ceremony

This post is way out of order but I was looking at the pictures and knew that I had to do a post.  We had been in our training village for about a week when we had our naming ceremony.  This was done at the home of the village Alkalo, the founder of the village and also the head of the village.  He meets with the VDC (Village Development Committee) and they make decisions about the village.  His position is hereditary and is of course passed down to the men relatives.  The Alkalo is also the judge in village disputes.  If the parties cannot agree it can go to a civil court in another city but that does not usually happen.  The Alkalo also speaks at any occasion such as the party at the Nursery school about which I previously posted.  At that time I said it was the mayor, but the real term turned out to be Alkalo.  If the Alkalo is not doing his duty properly the village can petition the federal government to step in and name a new Alkalo, but this is rare.

The naming ceremony usually occurs when on the 8th day of a baby's life.  The imam will whisper the baby's name in his ear and say a prayer.  He will also shave the baby's head.  For our naming ceremony they mimed shaving our heads and announced our name to the group rather than whispering it in our ear.   Here is a picture of me having my head shaved.

 I was wearing African clothing provided by my host mother.  She wanted me to be first place so she dressed me in fancy clothing, did my hair and applied makeup.  There was no such thing as "first place"  but I was definitely the fanciest one there.  

Once we had been named we presented Kola nuts to the dignitaries and then we passed out two different flavors of a koolaid type product, contained in plastic bags, to everyone who came to the party. The Gambians are very into sugar.  Anything they drink other than water is extremely sweetened.  My go to gift for my family was always sugar.  Once the gifts and drinks were passed out the dancing began.  The music was drumming on wash tubs and singing through a megaphone by griots.  The griots are the story tellers and singers of the people.  This is a traditional family role that goes far back in time and is passed down from generation to generation.  

In the picture below, a mother is dancing while her baby is fast asleep on her back.  It is a good demonstration of how they carry their baby around during the day.  They grab a large cloth, bend over, put the baby on their back and then wrap the top and then wrap the bottom.  It reminds of the expensive wrappy things I have seen in the states.  Women will work in the fields with their babies on their backs.  But sisters, including very young ones will also carry babies around in this manner.  I swear I have seen some girls that look no older than 5 with a baby on their back.  

Of course it is not only the adults who like to dance.  The children have been know to learn early.  My Senagali sister Mama is an amazing dancer at age 9.

I will try and post a video later.  Internet is too slow now.

Marathon March

Today was the Marathon March for the Peace Corps trainees.  This is a rite of passage apparently and I was a little dubious about it.  But I definitely was not going to wimp out. We left the Peace Corps transit house at 7 am and headed for the bush.  We spent the day hiking through all kinds of conditions and obstacles.  At the beginning we had to hike through farmers' fields taking care to step between the planted rows, climbing over  the low barbed wire fences, and avoiding abandoned wells that were ground level and uncovered.  Then we got into the tall bush grass, which occasionally had knife sharp edges when you caught it the right way.  I had already managed to fall a couple of times so I started to hold hands with whomever the closest man was when we came to a significant obstacle.  In fact I even held one of the women's hands if a man was not nearest to me.

The real challenge of the day came when we got into the water.  We were in a tidal basin and walked along narrow ledges above flooded fields.  Again balance not my strong point.  Then we got into deeper water and sucking mud.  I was wearing my orange Keens that were a retirement gift from work. I thought I had tightened them enough  but we got into a patch where I both shoes were sucked off my feet and I had to feel around in the mud for them and put them back on and tighten them up more.  All while holding up a line of people behind me.  I was successfully navigating the mud when I suddenly stepped into a deeper hole and almost went in completely wearing my back pack.  Only the heroic efforts of one of the other trainees prevented me from that fate and I only got wet to my waist.  He got wetter than I did.  (Thank you, Alex)  We finally got into some shallower mud water but then the sucking mud had stones in it.  Since the sandals were open on the side I got big stones in both sandals and had to walk with them in my shoes.  I actually bruised the bottom of one foot.  Luckily the morning was 2/3 of the trek and the worst was over.  

In the afternoon I was able to keep up pretty well and often was well toward the front of the group.  I actually did not feel to bad at the end.  A couple of the guys were complaining about their knees and mine felt fine.  Several of the people told me they were impressed that I had done it, and I was impressed with myself too.  I got clothes out of the free pile (cast off clothes from trainees going back to the states) to wear on the trek so I threw them away when I was done.  I hosed off my Keens when I got home and miraculously the mud colored Keens are now orange again.  They do have a decidedly used look now.

All that being said, I have no desire to do it again.  :-)

A day in Gambia

It's Ramadan and in The Gambia the day begins early.  We get up at 4 am to prepare and eat a meal before our daily fast begins.  We might have rice porridge with sour milk and lots of sugar or bread along with tea.  Once we have eaten the meal, we have the 5 am prayers.  Our father goes to the mosque but we pray at home.  After prayer we go back to bed to nap before the rest of our day begins.  Once we get up we have many daily tasks -- sweeping the compound, taking the goats out and securing them with a rope around the leg and a stake in the ground, fetching drinking water in 13 liter bedongs (large plastic containers with a screw cap on the top), and fetching wash water from the well we have in our yard.  To fetch the drinking water I need to go to the public tap which is about 1/3 of a mile away.  Since 13 liters of water weighs a lot, I have to take a wheel barrow.  The tire is leaky so I usually have to pump it up before I go.  

After I return with water, I start washing clothes.  I do this sitting on a low stool in front of a big plastic washtub in the area in front of my house.  I use a bar soap made for laundry and an individual package if powdered detergent.  The water is cold and I use a brush to get the dirt out.  I wring the clothes out by hand and put them in another tub with rinse water and then wring them again.  Then I hang them on the clothesline.  Since it is the rainy season, I have to keep an eye on the weather and be ready to take the clothes off the line and put them in a tub if the rain is starting.  It can sometimes take two or more days to get the clothes dry.  

I don't have a kitchen so I go to the market every day to buy the ingredients for the meals I make.  Today I need vinegar and tomato sauce.  I go to the bitek (tiny shop that are all over the village) and the shopkeeper pours what I need into small plastic bags that he ties off with a knot.  I also buy some of the local bread that is made locally.  The baker has a large oven made from mud bricks and bakes hundreds of loaves every day.  These are sold for 5 dalasi each, about 17 cents each.  They resemble a standard baguette but are about half as long.  As the baker pulls them out of the oven he dumps them on the floor.  He brushes them with a brush as he loads them into cardboard boxes.  He straps the boxes on the back of bicycles that are used for delivery to the biteks.  If rain is threatening he will cover the boxes with plastic of various shapes and sizes.  

After I visit the bitek I go to the open air market. There I can see local produce for sale and my favorite staple Maggi cubes (Google them).  No meal is complete without at least one Maggi cube added.  The produce doesn't look much like I see in pictures from US markets.  Ours is much smaller and does not look so perfect.   I can also buy fish at the market.  Our fish comes from the river and is caught by my neighbors.  Some of them smoke their fish before they sell it.  I don't like the fish area because of all the flies but I often buy fish for our meals.  My favorite treat at the market is fried dough balls -- and I buy some for break fast.  My peace corps volunteer says they remind her of doughnuts.

After I shop I take a gelly gelly to Serekunda to sell mangoes that we raised in our compound.  I can get a better price for them in Serekunda than I can get at the local market, even after I pay for the gelly gelly.  Since it is Ramadan I do not have to fix food for the mid-day meal.  However I also do not get to drink any water and I am thirsty.

When I return home I clean the pans from last night's dinner.  I scour the pans using sand and water and soap to clean them.  Since I cook outside over a wood fire, I make a paste of soap and water that I rub on the clean pans.  This makes it easier to clean them the next day.

At about 6 pm I start making dinner.  I begin by splitting the firewood into pieces small enough to fit into the stove (think a large pot size stand with room for firewood underneath).  Once I have the fire going I start cooking.  It will take me about 3 hours to cook the dinner and I am feeling hungry and thirsty. Thankfully break fast is only 1 hour and 45 minutes away, when the sun is below the horizon.   

Finally it is break fast.  I have made tea with milk and sugar and bread and butter.   A special treat is ice water.  I bought a large piece of ice to cool the water.  Everyone is happy to break their fast.

My husband and family have gone to the mosque.  I remain behind to make sure the compound is secure but I say my prayers on a plastic mat.  When they return we will eat then dinner.  Then we will enjoy family time and go to bed at 11 pm.

It was a day in the life.