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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. 

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. 

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

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! 

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