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.