Sunday, 31 January 2010
Hospital visit...
An important part to Mum and Dad's visit was to deliver toys donated by friends and work colleagues to a children's ward in The Gambia. We would like to take this opportunity to thank everyone who donated toys for the children. Play is an important element to their recovery so the toys were very much appreciated. Thank you! :) |
Friday, 29 January 2010
Highlights of Mum and Dad’s Visit to The Gambia
So Mum and Dad took the plunge and headed for the Gambia on 14th January 2010. It was touch and go whether they would make it due to the snow crisis in UK but all went smoothly. Here are some of the highlights of their trip: · Surprised Mum and Dad at the airport- lots of screaming from Mum! · Swiftly introduced them both to the air-conditioned cafe on the main street (which was much needed due to the fact that, after half a day in The Gambia, Mum was beginning to resemble an over-ripe tomato) · Gradually getting used to the importance of greetings in The Gambia by asking everyone you meet how the family are, where they are going and how their day has been (not that mum found it that difficult as we all know she likes to chat). Took us about an hour every day just to leave the hotel! · Dad having a go at riding my motorbike, stood up, in the sand... now that is a challenge... one that he accomplished I may add... · Went to visit Charlie the crocodile and both Mum and Dad touched him. Mum kept saying 'but he doesn't look real' while Dad haggled for a crocodile's tooth by asking how much it was and when the guy said 150 dalasi he replied with 'OK'. Think we need to work on their haggling skills! · Watched the fish come in at Bakau fish market and got a personal tour by a couple of friendly bumsters. Saw a fish with human looking teeth... that will help my Larium dreams! Dad wandered into the sea to chat to the fishermen and then we ate ladyfish and domada as the sun went down on the beach. · Took a tuk tuk ride while Mum gave us constant status updates on how likely it was to tip over. · Met the VSO gang on the beach for a few beers on the Sunday- by the end of the day we had put the world to rights and hatched a plan for a Filipino party at Max's house after the up-country trip. · Mum and I took a gelli gelli to Serekunda to choose some fabric for our Gambian dresses- Abdol our tailor was fab and did a really good job! · Me and Mum dancing on stage with a drumming troop (what tourists!) while I admired the arms of the drummers.... beautiful men... · Watched women carry 4 tubs of millet on their head, a bag on each arm and a baby on their back while pushing through the crowds to get on the ferry to Barra. · Visited James Island (where they kept the slaves before taking them to America and also where they defended the shores once slavery was abolished) on a small motor boat that refused to start and then when it did, threatened to stop the whole way across. Mum grabbed a life jacket and clung onto the sides of her seat like her life depended on it... and to be honest it probably did. · Surviving the trip from Albreda to Kerewan in an open-backed pick-up truck with no brakes (not even a handbrake!). We spent the entire hour and a bit long journey shouting at random children, goats, donkeys, cows and even monkeys at one point to GET OUT OF THE WAY AS WE HAVE NO BRAKES while the driver sang "don't worry about a thing... cause every little thing is gonna be alright"... · Gaining a new found respect for a flush toilet and running water. · Mum and Dad coping surprisingly well with the pit latrine, ants, bucket baths and my housemate, Charlie the gecko. · Getting a rotten horse and cart to the lumo (market) in Farafenni (which we fell though on the way!) · Experiencing the up-country Gambian service: ordered chicken and chips, waited an hour and then while ordering more drinks on the way to the toilet was told "did they tell you there was no chicken?" · Visiting Riders for Health and chatting with the lady in charge about what the charity does (see www.riders.org for more info). Also meeting Nigel there who has sold all of his possessions to travel around Africa on his bike raising money for Riders for health (check out his blog: www.bignoseontour.org ). · Sang our hearts out after 3 bottles of gin at Max's house party... Dad even played the guitar! · Enjoyed the Gambian food, especially domada, with most importantly... no dodgy stomachs! · Delivering toys donated to the hospital... see next blog entry for more details It was lovely to have Mum and Dad here and I am missing them already L (despite the fact that we spent about one third of their time here looking for things they had lost... padlock keys, sunglasses, after sun, room key, clothes, camera.... the list goes on... hee hee J ). I had a lovely holiday with them... back to work for me now... |
My first Gambian Wedding... (not mine personally I may add!)
One of Emily's colleagues from the hospital got married at the Stadium and we were lucky enough to be invited. The first issue (obviously) was what to wear. I had just been given a Gambian outfit as a thank you gift from one of the teachers I was training so I decided to wear that. We were picked up in a nice car by three very smart Gambian doctors, almost felt like a date! It was a lovely evening. We watched the bride greet 300 people in true Gambian style and then had a nice meal of chicken on a bed of cake from a foil tin. All in all a fab night! |
Thursday, 28 January 2010
To boldly go where no man (well, not many) have gone before...
Just east of Kerewan, before you get to Farafenni, you can see the beginning of the Bao Bolon wetland reserve. It spans out, both north and south of the highway, as far as the eye can see. During our work in the Illiassa cluster, Paul and I began to hear rumours about this mythical school that very few people visit. It was one of the schools in the cluster although Sama (the cluster monitor) had only got there once. Apparently this school is located in the tiny fishing village of Duntumallang, deep within the wetlands. The village is completely surrounded by water during the wet season and even during the dry season many sections along the way are impassable. So when Sama decided it was about time that he visited the school again, Paul and I jumped at the chance to see this extraordinary village. The ride began easily on the tarmac highway towards Farafenni. We then turned off onto the sand at the village of Noo Kunda. We passed a few small villages and then suddenly found ourselves riding into the vast wilderness of the dried up wetlands. We hadn't travelled far before we came across three women carrying beans to sell in Noo Kunda. Talking to them, we discovered that they had travelled on foot all the way from Duntumallang village. When they realised that we were heading that way, they pointed at their muddy feet and shook their heads sympathetically. That was not a good sign. As we continued into the wetlands, the view became more and more desolate. Occasionally, it made me feel like I was riding on the moon. The sand beneath the wheels gradually changed to dry cracked earth which made it harder to control the bike. We began to see some water in the distance and it wasn't long before we had to abandon the bikes altogether. It was a sad moment leaving the bikes to attack the wet ground ahead. At first I didn't believe Sama and thought that the bike could have continued a little further. It wasn't until I took my shoes and socks off to wade through the mud, sinking half way up to my knees in silky sludge, that I accepted the fact that Lamin (my bike) was definitely not up to the challenge! After a lot of slipping, sinking and laughing the three of us eventually reached the dryer ground on the other side. Paul took one look at his feet caked in mud with his walking boots next to him and swiftly decided to walk all the way back to the bikes to grab his sandals. I wasn't quite so organised so had to put the socks on over the mud. I have never before seen mud that clings to you with such determination. The shoes came off and on numerous times as we faced bog after bog, separated with dry land. I tried to walk bare foot all the way but the sharp stones on the dry earth made it an exercise in endurance until I couldn't stand it anymore. After about two hours had passed, we began to see some evidence of life. A brief climb later and we were stood in the grounds of Duntumallang School. The sun was getting stronger so we were more than happy to duck into the headmaster's office, out of the heat. There were two teachers working at the school, the head teacher and another class teacher, both of whom were not particularly overjoyed to have been posted here as their families were in Farafenni and due to the location of the school could not get home often. They had 12 children enrolled in the school as there are only about 50 people living in the village. We helped the head teacher prepare his school development plan and various policies before visiting his house. The people in the village were very friendly and welcoming. I chatted to two boys in the school while they wrote down sentences in English to show me like... 'Look at the girl' and 'This is a man'. The whole place was beautiful and surrounded by the biggest baobab trees I have ever seen! It was about 3pm when we decided to make a move. As we said our goodbyes and started the small decent down to the wetlands again I realised three things that triggered a flutter of anxiety... 1. The sun was at its strongest. 2. There was no breeze or shade to hide from the heat. 3. I had approximately 4 gulps of water left in my bottle. The village had given Paul some local water but had warned him that it was possibly the worst water in the Gambia due to the high salt content. Like most keen travellers, I got carried away when buying emergency gadgets sold in Millets (water purification tablets, energy bars etc...) and yet (also like most keen travellers) I never had them when I needed them! After walking for about half an hour, the attempt to ration the water for the journey had failed... we were now out of water. There was a big difference in my general mood when I went from having one gulp of water to having none. It was about this time that Sama kept stopping for a few seconds to look around. After the third time I asked the question I was dreading... 'Are we lost?' Sama tried to reassure me, while Paul began to laugh. However, despite his efforts it soon became alarmingly apparent that we had lost the bicycle tracks we were following and were officially lost. As we had no compass (had left that at home next to the water purification tablets!) and every direction looked the same it wasn't long before we couldn't even remember the direction we had come from. Sama had said a couple of times on the journey that it was dangerous here at night because there were lots of hyenas in the area. I didn't fancy trying to sleep here with the prospect of either being eaten by hyenas or dying of thirst (slightly dramatic I know but panic had begun to set in). I took this moment, as most people in drastic situations often do, to look up hopefully at the sky to say a little prayer. No more than a minute afterwards, Sama shouted suddenly that he could see something in the distance. In the middle of the wilderness surrounding us was a lone man riding a bicycle. We all sprang into action. Running towards the man, we began yelling at the tops of our voices while waving our arms above our heads. The urgency in Sama's voice made me realise how panicked he was himself. The man couldn't see us and continued to peddle oblivious. Our efforts became a little more animated and, after what seemed like eternity, the man finally saw us and stopped. He quickly put us on the right path and went on his way. We had been walking in completely the wrong direction! Had a mini spiritual moment and thanked whoever it was looking out for us. The rest of the journey was robotic. We all plodded on, thirsty and in silence. I began to imagine fanta bottles floating in the air ahead of me. I cannot explain the sense of relief at the words "I see the bikes!" from Paul. Once we got to the bikes we still had to ride to Noo Kunda before we could get some safe water to drink. We got as far as the next village but couldn't wait any longer. The village let us have some water from their well and I drank a litre without pausing for breath. The best drink of my life. I then had a can of pop in Noo Kunda and another bottle of fanta at Njaba Kunda. When I got home I was still thirsty and kept drinking for most of the evening. When we got to Noo Kunda we saw the same three women starting the walk home with bare feet and no water. It is amazing how invincible we often think we are and how many trivial worries can fill our heads and yet it only takes something simple like an unexpected lack of water in the heat of the afternoon sun to highlight our vulnerability and what really matters... Amen. |
To boldly go where no man (well, not many) have gone before...
Just east of Kerewan, before you get to Farafenni, you can see the beginning of the Bao Bolon wetland reserve. It spans out, both north and south of the highway, as far as the eye can see. During our work in the Illiassa cluster, Paul and I began to hear rumours about this mythical school that very few people visit. It was one of the schools in the cluster although Sama (the cluster monitor) had only got there once. Apparently this school is located in the tiny fishing village of Duntumallang, deep within the wetlands. The village is completely surrounded by water during the wet season and even during the dry season many sections along the way are impassable. So when Sama decided it was about time that he visited the school again, Paul and I jumped at the chance to see this extraordinary village. The ride began easily on the tarmac highway towards Farafenni. We then turned off onto the sand at the village of Noo Kunda. We passed a few small villages and then suddenly found ourselves riding into the vast wilderness of the dried up wetlands. We hadn't travelled far before we came across three women carrying beans to sell in Noo Kunda. Talking to them, we discovered that they had travelled on foot all the way from Duntumallang village. When they realised that we were heading that way, they pointed at their muddy feet and shook their heads sympathetically. That was not a good sign. As we continued into the wetlands, the view became more and more desolate. Occasionally, it made me feel like I was riding on the moon. The sand beneath the wheels gradually changed to dry cracked earth which made it harder to control the bike. We began to see some water in the distance and it wasn't long before we had to abandon the bikes altogether. It was a sad moment leaving the bikes to attack the wet ground ahead. At first I didn't believe Sama and thought that the bike could have continued a little further. It wasn't until I took my shoes and socks off to wade through the mud, sinking half way up to my knees in silky sludge, that I accepted the fact that Lamin (my bike) was definitely not up to the challenge! After a lot of slipping, sinking and laughing the three of us eventually reached the dryer ground on the other side. Paul took one look at his feet caked in mud with his walking boots next to him and swiftly decided to walk all the way back to the bikes to grab his sandals. I wasn't quite so organised so had to put the socks on over the mud. I have never before seen mud that clings to you with such determination. The shoes came off and on numerous times as we faced bog after bog, separated with dry land. I tried to walk bare foot all the way but the sharp stones on the dry earth made it an exercise in endurance until I couldn't stand it anymore. After about two hours had passed, we began to see some evidence of life. A brief climb later and we were stood in the grounds of Duntumallang School. The sun was getting stronger so we were more than happy to duck into the headmaster's office, out of the heat. There were two teachers working at the school, the head teacher and another class teacher, both of whom were not particularly overjoyed to have been posted here as their families were in Farafenni and due to the location of the school could not get home often. They had 12 children enrolled in the school as there are only about 50 people living in the village. We helped the head teacher prepare his school development plan and various policies before visiting his house. The people in the village were very friendly and welcoming. I chatted to two boys in the school while they wrote down sentences in English to show me like... 'Look at the girl' and 'This is a man'. The whole place was beautiful and surrounded by the biggest baobab trees I have ever seen! It was about 3pm when we decided to make a move. As we said our goodbyes and started the small decent down to the wetlands again I realised three things that triggered a flutter of anxiety... 1. The sun was at its strongest. 2. There was no breeze or shade to hide from the heat. 3. I had approximately 4 gulps of water left in my bottle. The village had given Paul some local water but had warned him that it was possibly the worst water in the Gambia due to the high salt content. Like most keen travellers, I got carried away when buying emergency gadgets sold in Millets (water purification tablets, energy bars etc...) and yet (also like most keen travellers) I never had them when I needed them! After walking for about half an hour, the attempt to ration the water for the journey had failed... we were now out of water. There was a big difference in my general mood when I went from having one gulp of water to having none. It was about this time that Sama kept stopping for a few seconds to look around. After the third time I asked the question I was dreading... 'Are we lost?' Sama tried to reassure me, while Paul began to laugh. However, despite his efforts it soon became alarmingly apparent that we had lost the bicycle tracks we were following and were officially lost. As we had no compass (had left that at home next to the water purification tablets!) and every direction looked the same it wasn't long before we couldn't even remember the direction we had come from. Sama had said a couple of times on the journey that it was dangerous here at night because there were lots of hyenas in the area. I didn't fancy trying to sleep here with the prospect of either being eaten by hyenas or dying of thirst (slightly dramatic I know but panic had begun to set in). I took this moment, as most people in drastic situations often do, to look up hopefully at the sky to say a little prayer. No more than a minute afterwards, Sama shouted suddenly that he could see something in the distance. In the middle of the wilderness surrounding us was a lone man riding a bicycle. We all sprang into action. Running towards the man, we began yelling at the tops of our voices while waving our arms above our heads. The urgency in Sama's voice made me realise how panicked he was himself. The man couldn't see us and continued to peddle oblivious. Our efforts became a little more animated and, after what seemed like eternity, the man finally saw us and stopped. He quickly put us on the right path and went on his way. We had been walking in completely the wrong direction! Had a mini spiritual moment and thanked whoever it was looking out for us. The rest of the journey was robotic. We all plodded on, thirsty and in silence. I began to imagine fanta bottles floating in the air ahead of me. I cannot explain the sense of relief at the words "I see the bikes!" from Paul. Once we got to the bikes we still had to ride to Noo Kunda before we could get some safe water to drink. We got as far as the next village but couldn't wait any longer. The village let us have some water from their well and I drank a litre without pausing for breath. The best drink of my life. I then had a can of pop in Noo Kunda and another bottle of fanta at Njaba Kunda. When I got home I was still thirsty and kept drinking for most of the evening. When we got to Noo Kunda we saw the same three women starting the walk home with bare feet and no water. It is amazing how invincible we often think we are and how many trivial worries can fill our heads and yet it only takes something simple like an unexpected lack of water in the heat of the afternoon sun to highlight our vulnerability and what really matters... Amen. |
Saturday, 2 January 2010
Last evening in 2009
| New Years Eve in The Gambia started in a very civilised manner. Some of us went to The Blue Kitchen restaurant for a meal and I can honestly say it was the nicest meal I have had in ages. Amy and I made flower necklaces for everyone (the men in particular were thrilled about this addition to the evening!) and made lots of different cocktails for the beach. The plan was to crash a Peace Corp bonfire on the beach for midnight. However, when we got to the beach at about 11:30pm there was not a bonfire in sight. It was a full moon so the moonlight was beautiful. We settled down on the beach for cocktails while some people went for a new years swim (while I fretted on the beach… "Where are they!!?? Oh there they are…phew!"). Obviously when James and Andrew went for their swim we instinctively hid their clothes. For some reason this wasn't funny enough so we all decided to wear an item of their clothing… took them far too long to realise where their clothes were I may add! At some point in the early hours of 2010 the men built a bonfire from old palm leaves (what is it about men and fire??) while we handed out cocktails to people walking down the beach. Happy New Year to you all! 2010 here we come…. |
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