Banjul and the Fishermen

Banjul October Banjul February

On Sunday Jane, June, Paul and I did the touristy thing and visited Banjul and Bakau, two popular tourist places. We went to the Arch of Independence (I also went there in February so I have posted the photos so you can see the difference) and then walked along the beach and saw the fish being cleaned and drying before visiting the market.

The we travelled to Bakau and visited the crocodile pond and then went to have beers with the other volunteers and watch the fishermen come in and the people collect the fish from the boats and sell them.

Cultural Differences

Paul Penrose is paying me a visit at the moment so I thought I’d blog some of the things we have been doing. One thing that is interesting is how I was caught out by the cultural differences on his first night when I thought I would cook Domoda (a local peanut dish) for tea and invite Mr Touray and Jagan over to meet Paul.

Mr Touray lives 10 meters from my front door so when the Domoda was ready, around 7.30pm when I told him it would be, I poked my head out and told Mr Touray it was ready but still hot. He was sweeping his house so he said to let it cool for a bit and he would come over. At 8pm I had served it up and Paul and I were sitting waiting and I poked my head out and Mr Touray was just washing up for prayer. Then at quarter to 9pm I gave him another reminder and he said Jagan was having a bath so they would be over when he had finished. So Paul and I sat and waited and then we heard noises and all of Jagan’s friends came to visit. So Mr Touray came over and said Jagan would be over later. Sound rude?

Actually it was me who turned out to be rude. In Gambian culture if it is time to eat you should invite everyone and share what you have. So really I should have invited all of Jagan’s friends over, served the food up in a big bowl and we would have sat around eating with our hands. I didn’t because I find it so culturally different it is awkward for me (I had only cooked for four not ten young men) and also I am from a different culture and so will be forgiven but I don’t want people to show up for dinner every night (which will happen if word gets around). Also it is normal to say prayers and wash before you eat so since prayer time is at 8pm it is unlikely that a Gambian will show up for dinner before 9 o’clock.

In addition to all of that, Jagan’s friends also laughed at Mr Touray being invited over for dinner, because that day I had also given him bananas as a thank you for helping me with something. Because I am a single female and he is a single male, inviting him over for dinner with the added detail of the bananas. actually means I am courting him. Of course again being from another culture I am forgiven for my mistakes!!

Before the disasterous dinner party Mr Touray took Jane, June, Paul and I to visit Kabafita his old school (Mr Touray got a transfer to a new school the start of this school year – which started last week). I thought the photos might be an eye opener for the difference between schools at home and schools here. The classroom is in operation – it has no furniture because the school has no furniture. The student’s parents need to provide their children with a chair and a desk, and so the children usually take them home on the weekend as the classrooms are not locked.

The other photo is of my ‘little squishies’. This little study group has decided to come by at five o’clock each night for booko – much to my delight!!! They are three and four year old girls and we sit for about half an hour and they ‘draw’ with the pencils (we are working on drawing circles at the moment) and we read two storybooks that I have made in their local language. Unlike my previous study group disasters these kids are really well behaved and like to snuggle up for a story and don’t wish to be rewarded with minties. I really enjoy reading with these kids.

Korita

Korita is the Wolof word for EID. This is the prayer time and the feast at the end of Ramadan. On Friday the 10th was the end of Ramadan. During Ramadan the Muslim Gambians fast from 5am in the morning until 7.30pm at night and stop doing any activity such as ceremonies and celebrations. This has meant my Friday, Saturday and Sunday nights have been much more peaceful because the nightclub behind my house hasn’t been blasting loud music. It also has meant that access to foods such as tapalapa and nebbai (heavy bread, beans and salsa) that you can buy from street vendors have been not as available. So usually I have fasted along with the Gambians from starting work until finishing work if I have thought I would eat lunch at home and then have been busy with work. It is possible but I wouldn’t like to have to put in the same fasting hours as the Gambians.
Korita has been a lovely experience, it is a little bit like Easter or Christmas I guess. My phone actually rang all night (I am not sure who was ringing I didn’t want to answer) and this morning I got text messages and phone calls from students and people whose business I support wishing me a good day and inviting me to visit.
The actual day of Korita is not decided until the very last minute due as it is determined by the sighting of the moon. The Gambian’s waited for news from the Mecca to determine Korita so we were not sure whether it would be Thursday or Friday. Late Wednesday night it was announced over the radio that it would be Friday. That means now that Friday and Monday are public holidays. The public holidays in the Gambia are usually announced in a similar way and a few volunteers get caught out sometimes by going to work and finding no one is there. I actually like the ‘go with the flow’ attitude – it is something to learn from, not to be thrown out by last minute changes. So on Thursday night we had dinner as a compound at my house for the final ‘breaking of the fast’ (the meal at 7.30pm) unfortunately I burnt it so it wasn’t the nicest breaking of the fast!!
One of my colleagues, Mr Jarjou, invited Jane and June and I to have lunch with his family as two of his children were sick so they wouldn’t meet up with their extended family. So we dressed up and went over to visit taking a few presents for korita with us. It was lovely to meet up with Mr Jarjou’s family. He has one wife and four young girls and many of his wife’s family including brothers, sisters, children of brothers and sisters ect were also there. Because the word ‘brother’ and ‘sister’ can mean friend, aunt, uncle or cousin, it is really hard to determine the relationship and because those words aren’t used in the Gambia it is hard for them to work out how to describe the relationship to us as well.
The lunchtime meal is eaten after two on Korita after the men have said prayers at the Mosque. Prayers are said five times everyday usually but on Korita prayer time is especially important. The Gambians are very committed to their prayer times and it is wonderful to see the tolerance people show towards each other – Christians work beside Muslims and are happy to ‘pause’ a meeting or a workshop at two pm and five thirty for prayer time. Often the Christian students have asked me not to start a lecture until twenty minutes later to allow their Muslim colleagues time to pray. The same sort of respect is shown to the Christians in observing Christmas and Easter rituals. At times you will find families with both Muslims and Christians. It is a beautiful example of how people can live if they show respect each other’s beliefs.
So after Mr Jarjou came back from the Mosque we ate a meal together. We ate out of the same bowl but used a spoon and a fork each. Meat is an important part of special meals here, so I just ate around the mutton (though I am proud to say Jarjou’s wife is also vegetarian). Jarjou made sure an egg was included for me.
After the meal Jarjou went to the mosque to pray again and we played with the children and babies and then Jarjou went to visit his family in Kartong and took June and Jane along to see the village. I got dropped off on the way so I could visit Isatou’s family who had rung and invited me to have Benechin (a local rice dish which is like a dry version of risotto). Luckily the shops were open so I was able to also get Isatou’s family a last minute gift. The shops in the Gambia almost never close – even on a special day such as Korita the market stays open.
So after eating at Mr Jarjou’s house I then joined Isatou’s family just in time to eat with them. It is rude to refuse food here and so I didn’t tell them I had eaten. I didn’t realize either that the custom is that honored guests eat separately so I was given a food bowl inside with Isatou’s father and the women and children all ate outside. I felt really awkward and wasn’t sure whether to have a conversation or not while we were eating. Luckily a young child also ate with us (Isatou’s father told me she hasn’t been eating enough).
Eating in the food bowl is really interesting. With benechin you have a rice mixture and then the meat and vegetables sits in big chunks on the top. You are supposed to break off a small chunk of meat or whatever vegetable is in your part of the bowl then push the rest off so everyone else can share it. No one worries about sharing spoons and the children eat with their hands. It is a very different way of eating but not so bad when you get used to it.
After eating I sat with Isatou’s elder sister (who’s wedding I went to) and her neighbor (who had a baby boy two weeks ago) and chatted to them. They spoke very good English as Isatou’s sister works at a nearby hotel. The other woman’s husband also works at the hotel. Then I went back to my compound to see Mr Touray who also invited me to food bowl as he hadn’t been able to visit his family because of the rain and was eating alone. This time I knew I could refuse and not offend or have my third meal in three hours! I did however sit and have a chat with Mr Touray.
It rained heavily all day so the normal Korita celebrations were thrown out a little. Normally people go and visit many others but Isatou’s mother said that due to the rain and all the water on the streets they weren’t able to visit (the people I visited all lived close by although I had to wade through a huge puddle to get to Isatou’s house). Late in the afternoon I was surprised to see some a big group of beautifully dressed children at my door and realized that there must be a ‘trick or treat’ aspect to Korita. I gave each of the children some lollies that I just happened to have in my house but then I ran out. The next knock however was Isatou and her friends and then the rain started again so I just managed to service the demand. Isatou told me that the children do go around in the afternoon of Korita and are given sweets or money, then apologized for not warning me.
I ended Korita by watching a movie with Isatou and two of her friends. They watched ‘Charlotte’s web’ and enjoyed it a lot. It is interesting to watch the reaction of the children here to films that children at home would be ‘too cool’ to watch. We also had a go at making popcorn which the girls loved – they think it would be a quick solution for a hungry husband when they are married!
Overall a lovely day ;-)

Burama and Marakissa

The day after ECD finished I had a call from one of the students, Burama, inviting me to come and visit his village (he is the same student who gave me the photo of himself). His village is the same one that Nic and I got stuck in, in the rain, for two and a half hours during a school visit. It is written up in the guide books as a hidden gem of the Gambia and I would have to say I agree. Ironically when I got the call I was sitting in an internet café getting frustrated with the connection and chatting to the guy on my left about our shared frustration. After the call he said, oh that is my village, and it turns out it was the principal of the school who I had met three times before, but I hadn’t realized while I had been talking to him.

I should fill you in on the background of Burama so you realize why I would ride off to a village to meet a random male student. Burama has got to be one of the most honest and amazing individuals you are likely to meet. I first heard of him when Anne told me she’d met one of her favourite PTC students signing up for ECD. He had completed the Primary Teaching Certificate, was one of the best students, and then decided to join the army. He then got involved in the nursery school at his Barracks and was being sponsored to do training in ECD.

I first met Burama outside of class on the way to school one day. I had stupidly strapped my umbrella to the back of my bike sideways and was trying to avoid spearing the pedestrians on my right, whilst avoiding being taken out by the cars on my left. Burama rode past and said ‘hey follow me’ and lead me on his bike through the traffic. I was worried that it was going to end in another ‘can I have your number’ event, but he said ‘you are my lecturer at the college’. A few days later we happened to be riding home at the same time when the rain came down in a very heavy way and we got stuck for half an hour and he told me his life story. He comes from a farming family but his father worked very hard so his children could get an education. He had always hoped to pay his father back but he had died at a young age. He now hopes to become very educated in ECD to become a great teacher and help his country.

Anyway so knowing Burama’s background, and that he was being friendly and not ‘asking me out’ by inviting me to his village, I asked June and Jane if they would like to ride to this pretty village. In the end I couldn’t call Burama to let him know we were definitely coming (his phone was flat and because not all houses have electricity it can take a while to get to charge it). But we rode out anyway because the Gambia works more efficiently on the spoken word than by phone most of the time.

The day we went out was the day before Korita, the feast that ends Ramadan. So on the way we went to the market to buy cola nuts and dates, which are appropriate gifts to take when you visit someone during Ramadan (the dates are for Ramadan, the cola nuts are to present to the head of the family at anytime). The market was so busy with people buying food and gifts for the feast. It was an amazing site – though not the best place to visit on a bicycle. The ride out to the village was also amazing – mostly because of the sun shine and the greenery – but also because of the amount of people walking and riding into Brikama to get supplies for the feast. Marakissa is six kilometers or so out but many of the women had to walk in to get their shopping and walk home with it on their heads (it was also threatening rain which is no small thing during rainy season). Many of the men were riding in on their bicycles and riding home with 20+kg bags of rice on the back wrapped in tarps or plastic table cloths.

The road was full of huge puddles so many of the men helped guide us around the puddles and also asked us about our journey – by the time we reached Marakissa we met three people who knew Burama already. One man had ridden in to go to the medical clinic because he had malaria – and he still rode home and chatted with us (it makes my taxi ride seem very easy!!).

We reached Marakissa and I was going to show June the school when a boy came out to see us and then showed us where Burama was. He had just got home from working on the farm. Burama was surprised to see us – I had got the wrong day, but he was still very pleased to see us. I think he was a little disappointed because it was still Ramadan and he couldn’t be a good host (they are fasting and in Gambia it is polite to offer visitors a meal). He rang after we left to apologise for forgetting to offer us a drink (which we had never considered because it was Ramadan) and to invite us back after the feast because all his family would be visiting.

It was a nice visit we just sat under a mango tree and chatted to his brothers who told us all about the Gambia and its culture. The benefits of sitting and chatting under a mango tree should never be underrated!!!! They are a very articulate family and so honest and humble that it was an honor to be able to sit and chat with them. Also an amazing learning experience, because often lots of things go on around me and no one stops to explain them so at times you have to sit ‘under a mango tree’ with someone to make sense of what is happening. It was a great experience for June too (Jane got a flat tyre and had to head back) as she has only just arrived.

On the way home we decided to stop and buy honey as a gift the family we are spending Korita with. We saw a honey sign on the way and rode to a village to buy honey. The road stopped at a compound where they were slaughtering a cow for the Korita feast. I was busy distracted by that when I heard ‘Awa Colley!’. Amazingly enough we had reached a compound with two more of the ECD students. It is a small country!!!

The Light at the end of the tunnel

I finally found the light at the end of the tunnel. I am not sure if the fact that I found it so hard that the light is so beautiful or if that it is just what it is like in the Gambia. Either way the feeling after getting through the last few weeks is amazing.

During my final week of teaching the ECD students were doing exams and the PTC students were just dropping in to pick up their marks. I managed to get though the PTC assignments marked fairly quickly and most of them had their marks available to them before they left to their postings (teachers in the Gambia just get posted to a school, near or far, they get no choice where they go). The week after they finished they had to pick up their stipend (the students are paid by the government to do their teaching certificate) so those who wanted their marks could get them anyway. Without the pressure of classes whilst fasting for Ramadan, the students were much, much nicer.

During the exam week I had to invigilate (sit in the exam room and check no one cheats) for the ECD classes. It was an interesting task but the thing I found most amazing was how strong the atmosphere of happiness and relief was each time they finished their exam and got closer to the end. The final day, on Monday, was the most amazing day. The students were so happy you could just walk into a room and feel it, they were going up to all their lecturers and saying thank you and getting phone numbers to keep in touch. I can imagine that must be what yr 12 teachers feel at the end of their year.

On the last day of ECD classes we had a great big meeting in a hall with all the students. It was raining in a way I have never seen it rain before and most of us were sitting in puddles in the hall, but it just seemed to add to the atmosphere. Most of the classes got a group up to sing a traditional song they use in their schools and then all the lecturers, including myself, had to make a speech.

After the meeting the students in 1A invited Lucy and myself back to their room to say goodbye before we left. They sang us some songs and presented both of us with a gift wrapped present signed by all the class to and told us that we had put in a lot of time to teach them many new things about child centred learning and that they just wanted to give us a small thank you back. The small thank you was six meters of fabric so now I will have lots of fun designing dresses!

After the meeting one of the students from 1A came back to say a personal goodbye to Lucy and I and presented us with a laminated, enlarged photo of himself. It may seem like a strange gift if you consider it in Western terms, but in Gambian terms it is different. The student is a soldier who has a nursery school at his barracks and here soldiers are very respected. His photo was of himself in uniform. Because photos are rare here, people don’t have cameras, to give a photo is like saying ‘you have meant something to me so I don’t want you to forget me’. Lucy got a good laugh out of it though because I told her once that the student was so good looking that he was a distraction to teach – well now I have a poster ;-)

I have to finish off with the most gorgeous story – which shows a small difference between the cultures and a difference I like. One of the lecturers, Mr Jenneh, teaches Child Growth and Development and also loves to teach the students nursery rhymes. I had a cd of songs for young children that a volunteer left and I gave it to him and since then he has been playing that cd and other similar cds for the other lecturers in the staff room while they are marking. On Wednesday he wanted me to help burn the cds on my computer to give copies to the other lecturers who enjoyed the songs. I burnt the cds and then did my marking in the staff room with the other lecturers whilst the lecturer continued to play the cds at full volume on repeat. I was starting to think I couldn’t handle ‘ten green bottles or five fat sausages’ anymore when another lecturer came in and said ‘oh I love these songs’ and starts tapping her foot. Then one of the art lecturers, who teaches PTC and not ECD, was walking past the room and stopped and said ‘oh this music is wonderful, just wonderful’ and came in and sat in a chair and just listened for half an hour. Eventually we had a room full of people just sitting and listening to this cd of children’s counting rhymes. I couldn’t stop smiling because I don’t think the cd would get given 3 minutes of air time at home!

A week from Hell

I can’t believe it was only a week ago that I had time off because I was sick.

Here are a few notes about being a lecturer in the Gambia, I am not joking and yeah I probably am complaining…but you would too.

Firstly I got back from being sick to find out that the ECD course I was teaching for eight weeks had been shortened to seven weeks, to accommodate Ramadan and in the final week there would be a three hour exam (based on the six weeks of lectures I have given). So I only had one week left to finish off my lectures and get the students prepared for an exam. Forward planning is not done here, and informing lecturers is by word of mouth (you may be expected for a staff meeting and you will find out about it in passing ten minutes beforehand). It works, but occasionally it makes life difficult.

So that is one course. In the other course, in which I have twelve classes, I knew it was my last week which was ok. What I didn’t know was that I was expected to have all the students marks ready for them by Friday so they would know them before they leave, and that the students would only hand their assignments up on the Wednesday. That meant that I would have to mark over a thousand assignments and give six hours of lectures in one day. The problem also, as it turns out, is that the students all felt the need to explain individually the need for their marks and convince me to get it done for them. This meant I was so busy trying to explain the concept of impossible individually over a hundred times a day, to actually be able to do any marking. Apparently I would be able to do the marking if only I understood how important it was. Although I actually met up with staff, discussed my schemes of work and discussed my workload before the course started, no one thought they should tell me that the marks had to be submitted before the students left (and how you are supposed to get the students to do assignments based on five weeks of work and handed in, in enough time to mark them is beyond me). It was possible for those lecturers who only had three classes who had fewer assignments to mark and more time off to mark them.

In the end, clearly, the students do not have their marks. Because whether or not they feel the need to know their marks or to wait for them, if something is impossible, it remains impossible no matter how convincing you are. The joy for me was having a whole student body debating with me rather than even caring about the work I did put in for them. Every lecturer is a man for himself (literally because even when I was given the classes no one told me the deadline on the marks and because all the other courses are different I didn’t know to ask), so no one could point out my workload to the students, and the students are to blind to understanding they are not the only class. It has to be said also that many of the students handed their assignments in to me three pm on Friday and still wanted their marks – apparently the onus is on me at all times not on them.

The absolute highlight of my week was one student telling me that I was only teaching twelve classes for the money and when I explained that I wasn’t getting paid for it he said that’s ok because ‘you have plenty of money in your country’. It definitely makes it all worthwhile when that happens (sadly stuff like that happens every day).

The truth of the marking was that my class was a combined grade so in the overall scheme of things it didn’t even matter to the students final mark – they could pass without even passing my subject. This means that all the hassle wasn’t necessary and the head of school knew I had twelve classes and couldn’t get the marks in and had given me an extension in the last week anyway.

So what is it like lecturing in the Gambia – obviously for me it wasn’t a lot of fun. But it is pretty rare that lecturers would have a timetable like mine anyway. Most lecturers would have six classes at the most and be planning for two hour lectures not twelve one hour lectures (I had fifteen classes between the two courses). It is a lot of work for the students though. They have a full day of lectures and have to get all their assignments done. It is Ramadan which means they are fasting from around 5.30am to 7.30pm whilst sitting in a full day of lectures and doing assignments. It is no wonder they were so rude to me, I was an easy target for their frustration. They did also badger other lecturers too (not all the lecturers were able to submit their marks either).

The rooms we taught in are like really old bare classrooms. The desks are small and old and the students are really cramped in together (imagine 60 to 80 adults cramped in a room that should only sit around 30 children). There isn’t enough desks and chairs for all the students and many chairs are broken. This means that as the students move from room to room for the lectures they sometimes have to go and find a desk and a chair from another room. One time I was waiting to give a lecture (my class was late) and a class filed into the room and took out all the chairs and desks (they didn’t listen to me), so when my class came they had to go and carry all the desks and chairs from another room back into the room. By the time the students show up (around 10 to 15 minutes late) and get the desks and chairs in order (another 10 minutes) the lecture usually starts around 25 minutes late. The students then all have to be quiet at once in order for them to hear me – another nearly impossible task considering there are so many of them. The windows also are just wire mesh so if a class is sitting outside having a chat we have no chance.

It certainly isn’t easy, and at the end of the day the students are just like high school students. A few want to learn, most want an easy ticket to pass. They do copy each other work (many of my assignments are copied), they prefer to group work so that two people do the work and six get the marks, and they want to argue everything with you. Sometimes just sometimes, a student really understands what you are teaching, gets excited and talks about how they will use it in their class. That is when it is all worth it.

The Priest and the Holy Water

Well it had to happen didn't it!!!!!

On Saturday Lucy and I showed the new volunteers around the town - mentoring I think they call it - not sure we really helped them much. After the welcome dinner that night we had to catch a taxi back to Brikama - Lucy was sick and I was quickly following.

By the next morning Lucy was fine and it seemed I was the one in need of a doctor. A doctor, however is not that easy to get to in another country. True and excellent medical clinic was not that far away - but when you are so sick you can't walk....a whole other story.

At 6.30am Lucy helped me and my bucket along to the Gelli park to catch a taxi (we couldn't reach any by phone). She ended up having to leave me and my bucket sitting in the middle of a dirt road, watched by many curious Gambians, while she went to find a taxi on her own.

The taxi, however got caught in a traffic jam, so me and my bucket (which was filling pretty quickly) had to walk through a busy market and find Lucy and the taxi. Not the best experience of my life!!!

We did make it to the clinic and my first thought of heat exhaustion was wrong. However the fact that I had taken a lot of effort to rehydrate myself the night before had really helped. The doctor wasn't too clear on what was wrong with me - but the bucket ended up helping to explain (he had wondered why I brought a bucket!). So he began treating me for malaria and gastro/food poisoning.

I ended up being placed in a room with a very religious lady (who frequently called to her saviour for help, although the doctors couldn't find anything wrong with her) and was very lucky to have her priest pray for me and sprinkle me with holy water (not the last rites though - I think Lucy was a little concerned that the prayer would be the last thing for me).

Two days of emptying my stomach and of 13 different IV drips and I am now fighting fit again. I was extremely lucky to have such a brilliant friend in Lucy who sat by me for two days and helped me move around the drip and held the bucket (it must have been two days of pure hell for her).

There were a few differences between hospitals at home and in the Gambia. I spent most of the two days in the same stinky clothes (even more so because of the fever) because I couldn’t get fresh ones from home and the clinic doesn’t have towels for a shower. Also when I got slightly better I couldn’t eat because food is brought from home (and you can’t buy take away food around the Gambia). (The clinic did give me bread and butter though and Denise brought bananas but I was really hungry by the time I got home).

I imagine that if I actually lived in Gambia the situation would have been much different. It would even have been different for a volunteer living in the rural areas – who aren’t an hour from the clinic with access to taxis. Most Gambian’s would not be able to afford a taxi or the medical services that I got. This means at best they would have to catch slow public transport and spend a lot longer getting better without the same type of treatment. I was so lucky!!!!! Especially so to have such a great friend in Lucy who not only put up with two days of pure hell (I’d say more so on her part than mine because she had to witness some pretty yucky stuff), but also got me new clothes and a toothbrush in the morning from Paul and Denise and fielded many concerned calls from existing and new volunteers – although many people actually thought it was Lucy in the hospital not me!!

The funniest thing was that the new volunteers had to visit the clinic as part of their in-country training whilst I was in there so I got a whole stream of visitors!!!

A difficult way to get a week off work - but how nice to finally have a week off!!!!