Saturday, December 14, 2013

American turned Gambian

In September, I visited the homeland, the land of money and feno-feng (everything). AMERICA.  I had arrived to Gambia with the intention of not returning home until 2014, I thought it would be an unnecessary cultural and emotional challenge to become adapted to the Gambian lifestyle only to return home for a short time, to then come back and continue my service. Beside I am in another world, and there are worlds closer to me that I have yet to explore, so I thought I’d spend the cash on these closer lands. There have defiantly been moments in these almost 2 years now that if I had gone home, it is quite possible that I wouldn’t have returned to finish my service. Not because of the comfort of home but because of the challenges I run against here.  But I always rise to challenges, so perhaps I am underestimating myself and of course I would have come back. But life changes and I found myself welcoming an unexpected opportunity to return, see friends and family, and fill my belly.

My boyfriend, Justin was the best man in a wedding and he asked me to go with him. So as plus 1, we bought plane tickets and emailed lists of wished foods to have ready in refrigerators to the parents. We day dreamt of things we would see like sidewalks and sitting in cars that permit us our own personal space. We worried a bit about cultural shock and meeting one another’s friends and family. Then we packed the bags, bought lots of African gifts and flew to our other home. After a marathon of flying we landed in LA. For me, life was dizzy, whether you call it vertigo, or time change, life change, I don’t care. I was dizzy, the floor felt uneasy, but maybe I was just dehydrated and needed to drink an ORS.  I met family, ate fast food and passed out in the softest bed I can remember. The rest of the trip was something of a dream. I saw Justin in a suit for the first time; this man sure does look nice, very nice. I cried over how good cheddar cheese tasted, a full body sob and I embraced the cry.  I learned that margarita’s are even better than I remembered, thanks Nicole. I relearned that you can do more than one thing in a day, for example, I could go to the dentist office; go to men’s warehouse, make lunch, go shopping, and make dinner all in one day. The speed and ease of running errands, when you have a car, and everyone else acts according to the same speed is amazing. I danced like crazy and discovered that the humor I have here translated to the homeland.  That bagels and lox are a magical food and if I had them here my happiness level would be at least 60% higher, thanks Charlene. The wedding was beautiful and loving, and I didn’t feel as much in shock at the abundance of wealth as I thought. It was just a different world. And when I had hard moments, Justin and his family were there for me to lean on.

Ways I have changed:  Both Justin and I had lost the ability to find things; we thought various things had been stolen in our luggage. Nope we just didn’t know how to look for them. I attribute this to the lack of things I have here, it is either in my 1 tiny locker in Kombo or in my house. And I have 3 large shelves. If it isn’t there, it never was. The luggage was spread out upstairs and down, it just got lost too much.  Another surprise was that my senses were both heightened and dulled at the same time. My hearing is incredible. Justin and I are whisper champions; no one can hear anything we are saying. There was wind blowing in the tree leaves outside and I thought it was water boiling on the stove, because the sound of wind in tree leaves was foreign to me. My eyes have dulled, things are *&@*ing dirty in Africa, white walls are brown walls. When we were in stores, the extra bright lights shone off all the surfaces so it was like a reflection box, the white floors reflected to the super bright items on shelves which reflected back onto the ceiling, it was a bit blinding and made the world a bit dizzier.


At home, I met my family at the airport, I hid from them because I was a bit shy and overwhelmed. They were so excited to see me and kept saying how normal it felt to have me home. But for me it felt different and new. They have the same energy and family dynamics that they had before I left, and I had forgotten just how intense the energy can be sometimes. And sure I might look the same outside but inside has changed and those changes can’t be understood in a weeks’ time. The changes aren’t something that I can explain in a blog post, just that Africa changes you. So I took a deep breath and just jumped in … Mom cooked us more food than I could ever imagine. We went out for ice cream to a homemade ice cream stand, just laughed at everything. Going to target and grocery stores we bought food weighing 100 pounds to bring back to Africa with us. My sister is taller than I remembered, but just as silly. Dad didn’t enjoy watching a scary movie with us but the ending brought him back around. And we played board games.  It felt good to be home and with my family again but what I think has changed is the feeling that where ever my heart is happy I can make a home for my self..We traveled to 5 cities in 15 days and traversed the country, it was exhausting.

In the end Justin and I boarded the plane, I was licking soft serve vanilla ice cream out of a cup, (last chance to get food that isn’t available here) and apparently this is a weird thing to do because everyone was staring at me. Don’t judge, become in touch with your food. We were a bit crazy, trying to shoot off last minute text messages or call people and tell them that we love them. There simply wasn’t enough time. The wheels went up and I realized how lucky I am, I get to return to my home for another 8 months, and I am doing it all with my teammate, such a wonderful and kind man who I fall more in love with at every turn.


It is now 4 months later, and I’m glad I had the chance to return home. It was like a refuel. There are still challenges here and I still conquer them somehow. But I have a new outlook, that America isn’t the land of everything, there are different challenges and frustrations there and I have to work at having kaira (peace) wherever I am.  But with calm and a peace of mind I can conquer them. I still have moments where my heart is so heavy with sadness that my body feels like a brick. I feel odd somehow, that nothing here is new, there are no more surprises left, then something surprises me and I wish that there were no more surprises. With 5 months left, I am full throttle forward with the garden, which needs to have the well finished and then we start planting. I have murals to paint and a new project involving high school students selling purses to tourists. I have visitors coming and I can’t wait to share this world with them.  

Friday, October 25, 2013

Snapchat

More photos for your viewing pleasure. Some updates via photos. 

Sowe Sabally, the shinning women of the story of the compost pile. She is a wonder and also a pain in my butt, thats when you know you are fully integrated. 

Men at the Mosque the week of tobaski. 

Women at the mosque the week of tobaski

This is Tobaski week at its best. The woman to my right is my best friend in village, her name is Sala Njie and she has a lot of attitude...aka she tells men when to go shove it. 

The amazing men of Omar Cham and Bakary Jite came to Tenengfara and held a wonderful malaria training where they taught 4 village leaders all the details of malaria, how to protect yourself , how to go to the clinic and get medication. The next day the 4 villages elders taught the rest of the village while we sat by and watched. Meeting under the tree. Pure peace corps. 

My counterpart, Bamusa Konteh, with his son...the CUBBIEST african baby I have ever seen. He and his wife are doing a great job. 

Mom- this is for you.

This used to be my dress when  I was a little tot. I brought it back with me from vacation. Now it is worn by my baby african sister. 

But she is also such a little shit. But I fall more in love with her every day. 

Sunday, September 29, 2013

The Compost Pile



I just returned from a 2 week vacation in America, blog post pending, I will skip over that to bring you this weeks events. Events that made me feel not only that I belong here but that I am helping to bring the slightest change. Which is a rare feeling to have as a volunteer. 



Sowe, the head of the women's club came to me Tuesday and asked me to hold a meeting on compost. I had brought her to a garden training back in July, and she had taken all we taught her and applied it, growing the first upland rice fields of Tenengfara. As well as, starting cashew and mango orchards, she did this all on her own, only coming to show me what she had done. Sowe had gone to a training in town that taught her how to make compost. I suggested to her that we hold the meeting in the garden, I do nothing Wednesday except read a bit about compost as a brush up, thinking like all other times that I'll be leading the meeting, I look up some mandinka words like compost and shade, and head to the garden with my shovel. In the meantime, She has taught 2 of the elder men in village how to make compost. I just handed them my shovel and watch as the crowd grows to over 60 women and 4 men, the most men I've ever seen at a training. They demonstrate how to make the compost pile, then translate in 4 languages how it was to be done. And you know what, I truly understood the mandinka, it was amazing that my brain had just absorded all this knowledge in a year and a half. The women although not outwardly excited, listened and Sowe was just beaming from ear to ear. The men even asked questions. And a compost pile was built, people learned from one another as I stood watching them just use my shovel.

That's what I'm here to do, to do or bring something by sharing and then standing back and doing nothing. I love that Sowe is now a women who believes in herself enough to teach others, to stand out as an individual in a society that only respects the community. It was beautiful and I truly can't believe that it happened in my time. I thought maybe another 2 years from now, but that I witnessed it, my heart is just full of thanks.

Leaving the meeting I bring my two girls, Mariama and Aramita, and little Tia to the tailor. I had bought them fabric for their first ever school uniforms and they were just shining light bulbs when the were measured by the tailor. They can chat about nothing else besides Sunday when they are supposed to see the finished products. I hope this will empower their learning even more. As I am trying, slowly, slowly, to show the family how education is the most powerful tool a person can have. Tia even got measured too because he and I will have matching asobe pants. I remember this time last year when he couldn't even walk the distance to the tailor, I have been here a long time.

On the way to the tailor's, the four of us, me and the three children were passed by a "Gambian tourist vehicle," coming from the tourist camp. There were two white young men sitting in the back, clearly tourists, who were staring at us as they drove by. I saw a glimpse of myself through their eyes, this young dirty white women standing in the middle of a cow path wearing local dress with 3 small black dirty children dressed in what they could consider rags. The question in their eyes was 'what is she doing here?' My answer, " I am living."

This is the most recent chapter to my life story. 


Monday, August 5, 2013

Ramadan is the name of the Game

It's that time of year again- the season of fasting, Ramadan, cranky season, fighting season- in Quaranic reality its a time of forgiveness and being thankful for all that Allah gives you. In practice it because a different monster. Last year, I fasted a total of 26 days. This year, not one. I am eating. Eating only. How could I not, last year, I learned a lot about myself, the culture, the spirit of community, made many life changes and generally grew as a person. Not kidding and not overestimating. It was a very therapeutic experience, and a recommend it to anyone to try. This year, I had a full food trunk, saved as I've become a food hoarder because I am so afraid of those times where there is no food. This year, I am on the outside looking in. Everyone in the village is fasting from sunup to sundown and I am living a more nutrition month than I have in a long while. I took it in different stride, I ate protein and I exercised everyday. It gave a great pattern to everyday, come up with exciting nutritious meals to make and plan the evening routine. I told everyone I was not fasting, and I always got positive responses along with the general Gambian teasing ones.

"Why are you not fasting?" "Mune I mun sung?"
"I am training instead." "M be training."
"Oh this is very good." " A beteyata baake."

"I am not muslim." "M munke muslim le ti."
*no response*

"I like food too much." "n leffita domoroo baake baake."
"oh Isatou, you are not brave of hunger and thirst." "Isatou, I mun hanni konko nin mindo."


A lot of women especially looked on in some what of a jealous nature as I explained that I was not keeping fast. Out of a whole village maybe 3 or 4 people have told me that fasting is good and it brings them strength. The rest complain, sleep all afternoon, bitch some more, yell at children, each other, their wives. I don't blame them entirely but really, the Quaran says no fighting people!

Women continue the cooking, for the breakfast, lunch for the children, tea and a small meal for the breaking and dinner. Not including carrying the water, going to the fields every morning for 5 hours to hand weed (its back breaking, I barely make it 2 hours) and keeping the children out of trouble. Yes, the speed of even already slow life, slows down even more. The men go to the fields in the morning for the same time as the women, and to be honest, some go back for 3 hours in the evening ( respect), seriously, I have no idea where they find the strength- I could barely stand up in the evening. But most of the men lay around sleeping on the bantabas. The younger girls, 15 and younger, take on more responsibilities, they carry more water, and generally help their mom's out. Boys too, more work in the fields, perhaps even taking the donkey cart to fetch water. Starting at age, you can walk without falling down, you start to have jobs. If you aren't old enough to weed the fields you follow your older siblings around picking up the weeds and placing them into piles. You can't carry a full pan of water on your head, then you carry a small bucket or a kettle. Its adorable to see a 4 year old walking home with a tiny kettle of water on her head, but also heart-wrenching.

Back to Ramadan-

I am learning equally as much about myself on an empty stomach as I did last year on a full one. I am also learning and seeing things I missed last year because I was too hungry to pick up on them. There is this deep level of power0 in the hunger- the lessons of carrying on to the finish and the knowledge that they and we all have the strength even without the food to do it, and with that strength comes power. There is a resilience that takes its highest form during Ramadan and breaths extra life into the community. This goes without explaining how resilient and strong the people are on a daily basis, they just reach into themselves and depend on one another during this time of fasting.

Dukuti le ka dakuti wulu. - Mandinka Proverb

Wednesday, July 17, 2013

Home Love

What else but some cute african kids- most of them are of my siblings or favorite baby in village. 


Mariama Jallow- they call her MJ, after Michael Jackson. Her co-mother is my best friend in village- even though they speak fula i'm at their compound very often


Aramita, my little sister, she's a wild one. 

Bamusa, brother, he's grown so much in the past year. Measuring my length of time based on how much everyone has grown up. He loves to dance and his dance offs with Justin are one of my favorite things. 

Farfala, brother, he lives at the quaranic school in town so I don't see him often but when I do he has a very quite personality- hardly saying anything but just has this huge smile on his face. No smiles here though- it was 7pm and he was fasting- fasting breaks at 7:30. He is 15. 

Isatou, the baby, and Tia, the 3 year old are still with their mother in Kombo visiting relatives. I miss them and realize now how much they and their older silblings have impacted me and my service- on all day's, the good and the bad, they are my source of joy, they give me their smiles and ask me for magazines, and grant me some of their endless power to be happy in a place where their are so many reason to be sad.

Tiyo Fatty, the little shit, he thinks he is a model. The family adores him now and he answers to Bori's call. The whole village when greeting me will ask how tiyo is with a laugh. Because its so silly to name a cat. When people bother me about not giving them money or buying them road gifts after traveling, I respond with "well, you haven't bought tiyo any fish and he really likes fish." That gets them laughing and gives me a chance to turn the conversation away from the stereotype of me being white and automatically having money. He's growing on many of them- someday he will be more famous in the village then I am. (No worries mom- he's staying in Africa- Aramita told me she wants him as her cat.)



Ramadan Sunset in my backyard. I am the luckiest girl. 

Fencing of The Gambia

Sesame Seed pod fencing

Corn stalk fencing 

Then we have the thorn woven fencing 
The many wood cutting's fence- also serves as a clothes line. 

The Larger wood fencing (1 year old) so they added thorn branches and sesame seed pods.

The reed fencing with wire holdings 

The chain-link fencing


The Village now has a GARDEN!! Chain-link fencing with metal bars cemented into the ground. The well, a pulley system, is a work in progress as we have hit rainy season and Ramadan- no one wants to dig a well when they are fasting. I had left on vacation to Morocco (more on that later) and when I came back to village they had set up the metal posts- and were waiting on instruction on the chain-link. The garden is a little over a hectare large with 1 well, funded by a USAID West African food security grant. There is a 8 person garden committee and each gardener (so far 90 have registered) will pay money to register their beds- the money going towards a communal account to buy seeds, tools, and additional wells in the future. The hope is self-sustainability. There will also be small business practices, garden practices, and nutritional training sessions given to community members so they have the best tools in place to have the garden work for their nutritional and monetary needs.
The work is slow starting because the rains have come and everyone is busy with their fields. Although we have started planting trees- about 40 cashew trees on the perimeter. Later the village has plans for moringa trees as alley cropping and a banana tree quarter. With the grant money, tomato, sweet green pepper, hot pepper, butternut squash, eggplant, and cucumber seeds have been purchased- the women will learn how to save these seeds adding to the okra, onion, eggplant, pepper, and squash they already grow. Now we are just beginning but we have high hopes for the future! 

Monday, July 15, 2013

We will have honey soon soon!!

BeeCause came back to village and we built large hives. The men did great, they worked as teams and whipped out these hives. 





A little instruction by Beecause master BALLA! With some small boys helping out in the background. It was a multigenerational day!


With lots of smiles!


These are brave brave men, they are beekeeping and we all got stung, at night, in the dark..A really fun time!! Seriously though, it was a great night. 


The third day we held a training for women and men on how to make value added products for bee products, we made soap and lotion. Lots of activity and lots of excited ladies!

The Jallow Boys planted cashew seeds. Their bad ass men. 

Aimee surprises family with groundnut grinder!




"What is this weird (walmart) bag.... "
Bori looking apprehensive with onlookers of Aramita and Mariama


"Ahhahaha.....Isatou!! Aimee!! Oh, this is good so good, good, ohh I am so happy!! 
Thank you, Thank you!! May Allah bring you goodluck and safety."


"Hey, Isatou, look at me....this bubbly wrap is so much fun... I can even wear it as a head wrap! Oh, Aimee is so silly...bubbly wrap."


Baboo, otherwise known as DAD, built this fancy little stand THE NEXT DAY!! Which is unbelievable to me because i've been asking him to fix my roof for 2 months and only did he do it when the rains came into my house. They are really grateful for the grinder. 


Isn't this the sweetest little table you've ever seen! 


Gambian's main crop is groundnut, similar to peanuts. But to grind them up into peanut butter or crush them for cooking purposes requires either alot of manual labor with a mortar and pestle or this fancy little hand machine. Before this one we had only one in the village for 34 compounds. Quite the waiting line for lunch preparation. They charge each woman about 3 dalasi, about 2 cents, to grind the nuts. They take the profits and save some for machine repairs and use the rest to buy food, cloths, ect. They also use it to grind fish to make fish balls (Justin really like's fish balls.) 

Thank you Aimee


Tuesday, May 7, 2013

These are the days...



An organization called BeeCause came to site and lead a 3 day training for 11 men on the basics of beekeeping. They built 11 catcher boxes and 7 hives and have them baited and waiting in the trees. Many have bees in them and are strong enough to transfer. BeeCause will be back in June for their second training session on advanced beekeeping. Here's to brave men and their want for honey and money!!






Isatou and Ba, chilling out...they will be gone with their mom visiting relatives until the rains start. Missing them and their giggles, cries, screams...




Tiyoo has found his new home very enjoyable. He knows how to sneak under my fence in the backyard. He also has fallen for the rice diet, love panketos (little balls of deep fried dough), and bitik bread. He's a carb kitty. 




Lets play in the dirt. 
A demonstration on how to fill polypots, then plant seeds in them, preparing trees for the rainy season. 









Wednesday, April 24, 2013

African Roulette

"Hunger of the body is altogether different from the shallow, daily hunger of the belly. Those who have known this kind of hunger cannot entirely love, ever again, those who have not." -Barbara Kingsolver, The Poisonwood Bible

Life in Tenegfara is occasionally like Russian roulette, you never know what your going to get. By this I mean that when I walk down the paths and meet a person, as the social culture embedded in life we greet one another. But I never know what language I'm going to get, you see tenengfara speaks 4 different languages- mandinka(what I am trying to speak), pulaar/fula, wolof, and serehule. I've learned some greetings and basica phrases in all the languages so when I head to the wolof compounds I greet in wolof, this amuses the villagers so much. They laugh hysterically and look at one another saying, did you hear what she said..she said.....as if they all didn't understand me. Although they never say it, I know they greatly appreciate this small gesture I am making to their family, to their tribe, honoring their heritage.

I get by because the main language is Mandinka, most can speak it to some extent, however, fluently or broken it may be. But there are some who don't speak a word- they will greet in their respective language as others greet back in Mandinka. Any language goes. I learn which compounds speak which languages and go in greeting in that language- when communication fails you grab the nearest small child because most of them speak all 4 fluently- guess that's just what happens when all your friends come from different tribes. I see a great deal of respect between villagers, if there are 2 men who speak all 4 languages but one is fula and the other is serehule they will speak in wolof or mandinka, so there is no preference shown to a particular individual/tribe. Or if they go to one anothers compounds they will greet in the houses tribal language. In a span of 4 minutes sitting on the bantaba (local wooden platform/hang out spot) all 4 languages will be going on with various translations happening for those who are not multi-lingual. Its amazingly calm and utterly calumnious at the same time.

It also drives me crazy, work is hard enough to get accomplished with one language barrier, simply going to the water pump your going to have to get some one to translate to or for you. Meetings that I hold with the men and womens' groups have to be translated at least 3 times. We run on African- slowness but also the slow speed of 4 language translations. And simple things become more difficult- even though I know the words for all the things in the bitik, the bitik owner is fula and doesn't understand a great many things in mandinka, so I still end up pointing to certain items. Although this does give me a certain degree of comfort when I travel because you will run into many language barriers when you travel.

Its not just the language that causes barriers, its the culture of the tribes. For example, the wolofs have a certain way of doing things that the fula's don't do. So to get a job accomplished you have to find a meeting point not only in language understanding but in cultural understanding, the role of mentor and mediator constantly comes into play. Another aspect to the tribal difference is a great benefit to my experience here. All the naming ceremonies and marriages have different cultural elements, a wolof naming ceremony and a fula naming ceremony have many differences. Serehule weddings and wolof weddings don't even compare. Its a very cultural diverse atmosphere and I just try and stay open so that I can soak it all in, and hope that the memories bond themselves to my being so that when I leave this home for my next one, the things these people have taught me will be part of who I am.

Its like a tiny united nations making sure that all the tribes are happy and understand whats going on and agree to it, also knowing the strengths and weaknesses of a certain tribes thinking and action helps the work go easier- for example the wolofs out of all the people in tenengfara are the most open to change and have this attitude of 'lets try this and see what happens.' When I have seeds to plant that are foreign to them, they come to my door asking for them, or they tell me that they have fed moringa to their kids 4 times this week after I suggested it was one of the most nutritious items available for their diets. Of course, all this conversation has to come through translation and as they get accustomed to my western strange white ways of doing things and of thinking, I slowly slip into my Gambian self, and sometime pause in moments to think of what my friends and family would say if they could see me now.

"Do not let your fire go out, spark by irreplaceable spark in the hopeless swamps of the not-quite, and not-yet, and not at all. Do not let the hero in your soul perish in lonely frustration for the life you deserved and have never been able to reach. The world you desire can be won. It exists....it is real...it is possible... it's yours." - Ayn Rand Atlas Shrugged


Saturday, March 23, 2013

Outing with the Tenengfara Ladies


The first week I arrived at site, last May, my first task to accomplish was to open a bank account with my women’s group. We had gotten a $5000 USD  emergency relief grant for food aid, and couldn’t access the money without an group bank account.  So knowing almost no Mandinka, I, my counterpart who speaks English and has become my babysitter, and 3 women headed to the bank account about 25K away. Between all the bureaucratic non-sense, getting passport photos of 3 women in the middle of the African bush, paying to open the account, dealing with slight corruption, and directing this entire outing while speaking no local language. Let’s just say it might have been the hardest and most challenging work assignment I have yet encountered as a volunteer. The only things that were getting me through that week, was that the community would get the food it desperately needed and that I would never have to set up another bank account in Gambia again.

That was true until a week ago. I have recently, completely a USAID grant for a community garden complete with a chain-link fence and a well. It is in the process of being approved by DC as PC Gambia has already approved it. Everything was going smoothly, bank account numbers turned in and then I get a call from the office that informs me that any government funds won’t transfer to the bank account we have near village because that bank is considered by the US to be unreliable. Now, yes, the previous money was also from USAID and went to that account, but I was told that it wouldn’t work for this grant, the only option we had was to go to a larger town, farther away with a bank that was approved by the US to transfer funds too. I thought it would be the same set up as the previous time, so I had meetings with the alkahlo and village leaders to request, 650D which is about $14 USD for transport for 2 women and myself. It was actually a huge argument, because to my home-people that’s a lot of money. After about 30 minutes for fighting back and forth between villagers, I had had enough and just said, fine, if you don’t want the garden, then don’t give me the money, I’ll simply call peace corps and tell them that we have changed our minds. Suddenly, everyone was agreeable and the money was given to me.

Early Monday morning, we headed to Soma, about a 2 hour journey once you are on a gelle. I wanted to leave at 7am because the gelles fill up fast, and the earlier gelles tend to stop less often. But everything here moves in Gambian time, which means slowly, and we got to the road around 8:30am, an hour and a half late, not bad. Travel went well, no incidences. We get to soma around 11, and as we are all hungry I treat the women to breakfast of egg sandwiches and tea. Then we head to the bank, the bankers immediately tell me that I need a tax identification number, it’s a new requirement, to open the account. These women can’t own land, officially own nothing that they can pay taxes on, so they don’t have tax ID numbers. The women’s group was registered with the state but they had forgotten the paperwork. And now it wasn’t just 1 passport photo, but 2, and they needed to have ID’s which they had but they had to be a new biometric identification card which the women didn’t have because they hadn’t left tenengfara in a few years. The bank manager absolutely refused to let us open the account, saying that we would have to go home, figure everything out and then come back with the proper paperwork. I was exhausted, I had been dreading this day and this was the last thing I wanted to hear. I told him that while parts of Gambia were moving forward with development and new regulations and rules, there were many areas of the Gambia that were standing still, while the bank had AC and a flat screen TV broadcasting CNN, the village has mud huts and pumps for water. It was a visual divide of the two worlds and it felt so much more powerful when I had two of my women from village with me.  I couldn’t go home empty handed only to have used the villages money for nothing. So I shed a few tears and showed the bank manager my passport and somehow managed to open the account by promising him that I would return with all the proper paperwork, ID’s, and photographs. The account was 500D to open, about $12USD, but much more than I had thought. After the bank was somewhat accomplished, we headed across the road to immigration where we had to fill out paperwork for the women to have their ID’s renewed. They had photos taken, and paperwork stamped which cost 50D, which is so ridicules. The ID’s themselves were 400D. The immigration office was more stressful than the bank; the officers are pumped up with their authority and find it part their jobs to ask me every question about myself, America…blanket harassment at times.  But we got the ID’s renewed, we got the bank account set up even without proper documentation, a few more 100D spent then we thought but it’s all for the garden. And hopefully, my bank account opening days are finished. But this time, I did it without my counterpart, the basics were accomplished in one day, and in this life we just have to focus on the positives. And in the end will be a garden which will increase food security for my village. 

Tuesday, February 5, 2013

Carrying Water

There are many differences between the 'bush' and the 'city.' Many of them are differentiated by labels such as 'development,' 'civilization,' 'location of food,' 'the beach,' 'rice only,' 'dirty,' bucket showers,' 'showers,' 'pit latrines ' 'taxi,' or 'horse/donkey carts.' In the peace corps world at large the most commonly used terms  are 'posh corps,' and 'peace corps.' Now these are pretty easy distinctions. Posh describes a PCV who lives with amenities, such as, electricity, running water, television, easy access to resources, bottom line the basic comforts of development. Although, to be posh, you usually have to have several of the previously mentioned to count, there are many volunteers who might have only electricity at only certain times of the day while still living in the bush, while this is a luxury, they most likely would not be described as posh posts. While a 'bush' volunteer has none of the previously described. There are benefits and disadvantages to each, living in the bush, you know everyone and everyone knows you, there is a less likelihood of theft, much like a small town in America, there is an element of comfort and security that the rural provides...there are thoughts that if anything serious happened to me my village would run a trial like old times or just go off on whoever had caused me harm...what i'm trying to say is that the village protects their own.  If you live in a more developed area, a volunteer would tend to get 'toubabed' more often, there are challenges such as tourist season, a warping, imitation  and misunderstanding of western cultures which makes communication much more difficult, a exception of because you are white you are rich and thus must give me minti's or money like the tourists do, and a limited wide-spread knowledge of peace corps and its objectives. A bush volunteer would have to carry water for all of their needs, cooking, cleaning, laundry, showering, and ...you're screwed if you run out of water in the middle of a shower or heaven forbid in the middle of a bathroom break...believe me i've done it...but i'm terrible at keeping water in my house. You also have to power all of your movements, and by that I mean many times the only way to get somewhere is walking or biking, there are no opportunities for taxis, but hey if your really in trouble make sure you become friends with someone with a horse or donkey cart so they can get your butt to the road. To get food in the bush, I bike 14 k round trip to a weekly market where I can buy beans, spaghetti, soap, fish(?), seasonal vegetables, second hand clothes like piles of salvation army, which are really fun to look through, soda, milk, coffee, peanut butter, and pasta for the majority of what I buy. In village, I hope that the bitik is open, and I hope that they have bread! At the bitik you can buy tomato paste, onions, garlic, small bags of pasta, mayo, margarine, chocolate sauce, sugar, attaya, oil, candles, cans of condensed or evaporated milk...but just remember that they might not have these things. Larger bitiks have more than smaller bitiks, there is a large bitik 2 k away from me that sometimes has eggs!! So with these things you become really inventive, garlic bread from a frying pan, bean soup, spaghetti sauce from tomato paste, onions, and garlic. When I head into the city, I try to make sure my bag is as empty as possible so I can load up on foods and bring them back home with me.
To get work done, I'm actually pretty lucky in that I have a NGO 14 k trip away which has a generator and get this...wifi, so I can plug in and do grant work...which is where I am right now. But its not as easy as that. For example, one NGO has solar which is FANTASTIC, but if I need to go online I have to use my internet stick which costs do add up fast. The second NGO has a generator but most of the time its broken. So this is how my trips to use power usually go, I bike from home to town, trying to remember to bring water..because the bitiks in town are weirdly always out of water bags and I don't really want to drink the tap water. In town, I check out the NGO situation. ok...so more detailed this is how my morning went. I did remember water, I show up to town really wanted to finish the garden grant I'm working on. One NGO has decided to take the day off because its Tuesday  and why not stay home. The second NGO's generator is broken but they tell me that they are working on it...which in Gambia could mean it will be ready sometime today or maybe sometime next week. No one has come to work yet and its 10:30. So I sit...and I wait. And I get frustrated, so at around 11:30 knowing that I have a fully charged computer from the last time I was at an NGO, I head into the backyard and sit down on the cement, turning on my computer hoping to at least get some work done before the battery dies. I have already hand written essay questions and discussed the detailed budget with my counterpart, so I transfer information from my notebook to the computer. Everyone walking around laughs at the weird white girl who sits around doing work instead of just waiting for the generator. Then at  12:30 they have miraculously fixed the generator and I quickly plug into the power. Like I said before I am actually really lucky to have close by access to power, not many volunteers have that opportunity.
I don't know exactly where I'm headed with this whole blog post except that yeah, things can be really difficult and the basics of living like water supply and access and availability to food are limited at times. (water taps being on of only certain times of the day) And if your lucky enough to have some larger populations nearby you might get an NGO that will let you sit and take advantage of their amenities. In the beginning basics of living were a novelty, like ohh look at me I'm living in Africa in a mud hut and image if my friends could see me carrying water on my head. Then feelings shifted to f-this, there are cockroaches that crawl into my hut and carrying water is a bitch. Emotions have changed recently to, whats the ruffling sound inside of my hut at 2am.. cockroach...grab the nearest shoe..bye cockroach,  and hey mom is the water on at the tap yet?...ok water time because i'm thirsty. The novelty is gone, the period of fighting it is over, and now its just life. Yes, I live in Africa, yes its hot, the basics of living are somehow difficult, there are days that the daydreams of life in America are constant, but I fight to stay mentally here, because I want this, I asked for this, and I'm not going anywhere.
As we approach the one year mark, I set goals for the next year, what I want to get done for my home-people,  what I want to personally accomplish, and where I want to head next. But for now, its all about living and working in a rural African village where I see my siblings growing up so quickly and get teary at the thought of leaving all of this behind. After all, when else am I going to have to carry at least 24 L of water everyday.

Monday, January 21, 2013

Bureaucratic what-not


This is a spread sheet that PC gives to trainees so that we have an idea of what 'wacked' feelings we have are actually normal, and when they are not so we known when to get ourselves help...kidding....kind of. This list is in general pretty descriptive and does somewhat correspond to the times and emotions of a PCV,  although in one day or one week you can go through all your 27 months in country of feelings. This also doesn't include the happiness or feelings of bliss, so for parents and PC applicants, new trainees just remember that  no one ever lives by the list completely.



Months in Country

Issues

Behaviors/Reactions
1-3
Too much structure,
Too much routine,
Fatigue
Withdrawal, anxiety, feeling incompetent, nervous, restlessness, irritability, weight and or health changes
Coping Strategies: 
-explore independence -make plans for first 3 months -visit new site-establish relationships/familiarity with Gambia, PC staff -gather skills for immediate use
4-7
Assignment, separation/solitude, uncertainty of role, Language
Fright, frustration with self, loneliness, weight or health changes, homesickness, uselessness
Coping Strategies: 
-Develop in-country correspondence- Visit peers/host family- Efforts to establish support links with NGOs and government services- Technical research for future use- Language study- Establish schedule, routine, sense of “home”- Establish hobbies to do in public
8-10
Slow work progress, Language Plateaus, cross-cultural frustrations, Lack of support
Comparison with other PCVs, over-zealousness, home sickness, intolerance with host culture, uncertainties about adaptation
Coping Strategies: 
-reunions with group/site mates -cards, letters home to forgotten
Relationships -talk with friends about slow starts & failures -simple projects: cooking, personal crafts, meetings, garden for self -consolidate friendships
11-15
Mid service crisis, doubt about program, role, self, government, reflections
Impatience with self,  complaining, lethargy, feeling useless, haughtiness with new trainees, confusion in resolving frustrations vs. victories
Coping Strategies: 
-Plan vacations  -Review work plan; set new goals  -Celebrate one year anniversary  -Find new recreation  -Physical activity: "Get in shape" -Write letters  -Explore better in-country relationships -Return to language study and practice -Visit new volunteers 
16-20
Increased and more defined work pace, project work, awareness of time constraints, realization of own limits, post PC considerations
Hyperactivity or apathy, procrastination, self-recrimination, resignation, disappointment, downgrade achievements.
Coping Strategies: 
-visit new volunteers-physical activity; “get in shape” -focus on relationships in village -re-examine goals and time frame -apply for GREs, write grad schools -explore work possibilities in neighboring villages- look to collaborate on projects with volunteers.
21-23
Project work, awareness of time constraints, realization of own limitations, post pc-considerations,   depression about perceived lack of accomplishment, consideration of extension, checked out
Resignation, downgrade achievements, monument building, withdrawal into work, panic, procrastination, frustration with self, moodiness.
Coping Strategies: 
- Focus on relationships at site   -vacation/travel -review work plans, assess feasibility -plan “closing out”, & follow-up -work with counterparts on planning for departure, follow-up
-collaboration with 1st year PCVs -consider post-PC planning; first draft of resume; 4-Mo. personal calendar
23-27
Trauma of Departure, Concern about social re-entry, Bridging new and former identity, redefinition of career goals, redefinition of host country based on relationships
Fright, confusion, alienation, anxiety, panic, giddiness, impatience, obsession with planning and scheduling.
Coping Strategies: 
-check on trends, US popular culture amongst Trainees - Job search /Apply for GRE, write grad schools  - do self-analysis: i.e. factors of self-growth; work accomplishment, to consolidate self-confidence -work on self-image -shop for art, crafts, etc. -write friends, make social plans -post-PC travel plans -transfer work skills, area-specific knowledge to trainees - Contact friends at home, make social plans