Brikama is a bustling place. During the rains many of the streets are underwater. If you go into the market after the rains you will find yourself ankle deep in muddy water in many of the narrow passages, trying to find your footing and not end up on flat on your back. At the same time you are trying to avoid men with wheelbarrows and the general human and animal traffic. Flies swarm all around the fruit and vegetables but after being in Soma you are just so happy to see a healthy looking carrot that you don’t care how many flies have landed on it. Brikama market has most things that you could want to buy. Rachel discovered lovely homemade biscuits and in the mini market she also made a great find - powdered chocolate milk – just add water. I even have it on my weetabix in the morning. The market can be an interesting experience , not always a pleasurable one, but mostly if you try to speak a little local language you get a good response. Although people do seem to be a bit dismayed if you don’t know all three of the main languages - Wolof, Mandinka and Fula.
Today we went into one of the clothing stalls because Rachel was looking for a gift for someone. So as I was waiting I used up my stock Mandinka phrases on the rather large lady who was sitting on a low bench inside. As Rachel was choosing what she wanted the lady gestured for me to come and sit beside her and was trying (I think) to tell me that she wanted to come to England or that someone she knew had gone to England. Then she turned and glanced and my arm and spotted my moles. She pointed to them on my arm and said sympathetically (mas, mas, mas) which translates ( sorry, sorry, sorry). In vain I tried to explained to her that I had had them from birth and that they weren’t the symptoms of some hideous plague. This isn’t the first time my moles have been a subject of concern. The Gambians seem to be fascinated by them. Arabiatou in our compound in Soma, often starts counting them. “Aminata – look at this” and Bunja our caretaker at work once noticed them and said “bites, bites”. Again I tried to explain that I had always had them and again he looked at me with great sympathy “ mas, mas” .
The compound in Brikama is very friendly. We get our fair share of visitors knocking on the door to pass the time of day. Touray, the caretaker in the compound also runs a school nearby and fosters a young lad about 19 called Jaygen. Touray is an extremely nice man, who is always at hand if you need help. He always tends to come past when I am fighting with the lock on my door. He rescues me, usually managing to do it first time. Teenagers EJ and Ebie are also regular visitors. They are good friends but extremely different in character. EJ is the sensible one. He came to my door the other day, shook my hand and said sternly. “Lucy why you walk to school. I saw you walk to school. Why you not take Amy’s bike.” So I pointed to the bike and its flat tyre. He looked at me in exasperation and started wheeling the bike out the door. “I’ll take it and put some air in it” So off he went. He came back about 10 minutes later, absolutely soaked as it had started to rain, with the tyre still flat. “The tyre must need changing. I’ll come in the morning and take it.” So there he was 8.30am outside my door ready to take the bike and brought it back fixed. “Now you no walk to school Lucy”
Ebie on the other hand is a bit like the lad about town, roaming about from one compound to another. He drops in occasionally to regale us with various tall tales. Or to recount in scary detail one after another episodes from Tom and Jerry. “I like this programme, this is very funny.” Or to show us his latest dance moves.
Sometimes the really tiny kids from the neighbourhood come peering under the curtain on the front door and shout “toubab, toubab” until they get bored.
Kids also come and set their homemade rat traps in the grounds. They are quite good contraptions made out of old tomato paste tins. (See the photo). Apparently whose ever trap it is if they catch a rat they get to take it home and roast it at their compound and then everyone shares it. I can’t say that’s a custom I will be joining in with.
Anne, who is leaving to go back to Canada this week has been working at the college for five years. On Saturday she organised an excursion for the kids that she has got to know over her five years. She hired a gelly and took them to the beach at Sanyang for the day. The only trouble was when the morning arrived, the word had obviously spread and the world and his wife turned up at the compound asking if they could come. Half of them Anne had never seen before. But she did finally get all her group together and they all trooped off down the street to meet the gelly and apparently had a very good day out and all returned in one piece.
The work at the college is exacting to say the least. I have 24 hours of lectures a week. It may not seem much but at the end of the day I feel pretty wrung out. The students are mostly very nice and respectful. I do get called Madame quite a lot which makes me feel like some old spinster but I guess that’s what I really am in Gambian society. Some students have decided they will call me Aminata Lucy. I see 180 students a week so its not surprising I can’t remember all of their names but I think I am doing quite well with the names considering. Motivation can be a bit of a challenge but considering the workload they have and the fact that a lot of them have families they have to take care of when they get home, they do quite well really. A lot of the mothers bring their babies to class, strapping them to their backs or breastfeeding them while at the same time taking notes. Sometimes I get to have a hold in the pretence of allowing the mothers to get on with their work. In one of my classes there is a baby that can only be a few weeks old. He lies there quite happily in his basket. Wearing my Gambian outfit today got me lots of brownie points with the students. Friday is dress up day in the Gambia. I decided I would get with the culture and wear my Gambian two piece. I hadn’t anticipated how difficult these wrap skirts are to walk in especially when you have a European striding pace. Wrap skirts really aren’t made for striding, more waddling (if you are me that is). Gambian women seem to walk perfectly elegantly. Then the wind kept blowing the skirt apart so I kept trying to yank it down to protect my modesty. I must have looked a sight walking to work this morning. I did get a lot of attention though! The students kept popping their heads round the door of the lecture rooms “ Amie, you look so beautiful in African dress” I’ve never had such attention. One of them said to me “I hope you are going to wear it when you go back to England. At that moment I had a mental image of myself walking through the main street of Newport in my full Gambian dress. I’m not sure Newport is ready for it!
One thing I can say about the Gambians is that they really know how to liven up a rhyme. Heads, shoulders, knees and toes has got a much needed African revamp, the hokey cokey too has received some Gambian glitz.
I do like the atmosphere at the college. I have my regular peanut lady who shouts “kilijano” (that’s a compliment. It means you’re a regular) whenever she sees me because I buy so many peanuts from her. The students bring baobab ices to college to sell. 2 dalasi for one of those. They are really refreshing. My latest find is mini fish pies – 5 dalasi for a bag from another of my students.
It’s great when you walk into a classroom and they start singing one of the songs you have taught them or you just walk round the quad and they start singing at you. It’s a good feeling. Although I do feel a bit like I’m floundering around in the dark with little idea if what I am teaching them is going to be at all useful, when in some cases they have to go back to classes of fifty odd children with little resources. Songs and rhymes at least I think are the way to go. You can always do those with a large number of children. It’s also what I get the best response from the students with . They are just fanatical about writing all the words down to each song you do with them.
Today we went into one of the clothing stalls because Rachel was looking for a gift for someone. So as I was waiting I used up my stock Mandinka phrases on the rather large lady who was sitting on a low bench inside. As Rachel was choosing what she wanted the lady gestured for me to come and sit beside her and was trying (I think) to tell me that she wanted to come to England or that someone she knew had gone to England. Then she turned and glanced and my arm and spotted my moles. She pointed to them on my arm and said sympathetically (mas, mas, mas) which translates ( sorry, sorry, sorry). In vain I tried to explained to her that I had had them from birth and that they weren’t the symptoms of some hideous plague. This isn’t the first time my moles have been a subject of concern. The Gambians seem to be fascinated by them. Arabiatou in our compound in Soma, often starts counting them. “Aminata – look at this” and Bunja our caretaker at work once noticed them and said “bites, bites”. Again I tried to explain that I had always had them and again he looked at me with great sympathy “ mas, mas” .
The compound in Brikama is very friendly. We get our fair share of visitors knocking on the door to pass the time of day. Touray, the caretaker in the compound also runs a school nearby and fosters a young lad about 19 called Jaygen. Touray is an extremely nice man, who is always at hand if you need help. He always tends to come past when I am fighting with the lock on my door. He rescues me, usually managing to do it first time. Teenagers EJ and Ebie are also regular visitors. They are good friends but extremely different in character. EJ is the sensible one. He came to my door the other day, shook my hand and said sternly. “Lucy why you walk to school. I saw you walk to school. Why you not take Amy’s bike.” So I pointed to the bike and its flat tyre. He looked at me in exasperation and started wheeling the bike out the door. “I’ll take it and put some air in it” So off he went. He came back about 10 minutes later, absolutely soaked as it had started to rain, with the tyre still flat. “The tyre must need changing. I’ll come in the morning and take it.” So there he was 8.30am outside my door ready to take the bike and brought it back fixed. “Now you no walk to school Lucy”
Ebie on the other hand is a bit like the lad about town, roaming about from one compound to another. He drops in occasionally to regale us with various tall tales. Or to recount in scary detail one after another episodes from Tom and Jerry. “I like this programme, this is very funny.” Or to show us his latest dance moves.
Sometimes the really tiny kids from the neighbourhood come peering under the curtain on the front door and shout “toubab, toubab” until they get bored.
Kids also come and set their homemade rat traps in the grounds. They are quite good contraptions made out of old tomato paste tins. (See the photo). Apparently whose ever trap it is if they catch a rat they get to take it home and roast it at their compound and then everyone shares it. I can’t say that’s a custom I will be joining in with.
Anne, who is leaving to go back to Canada this week has been working at the college for five years. On Saturday she organised an excursion for the kids that she has got to know over her five years. She hired a gelly and took them to the beach at Sanyang for the day. The only trouble was when the morning arrived, the word had obviously spread and the world and his wife turned up at the compound asking if they could come. Half of them Anne had never seen before. But she did finally get all her group together and they all trooped off down the street to meet the gelly and apparently had a very good day out and all returned in one piece.
The work at the college is exacting to say the least. I have 24 hours of lectures a week. It may not seem much but at the end of the day I feel pretty wrung out. The students are mostly very nice and respectful. I do get called Madame quite a lot which makes me feel like some old spinster but I guess that’s what I really am in Gambian society. Some students have decided they will call me Aminata Lucy. I see 180 students a week so its not surprising I can’t remember all of their names but I think I am doing quite well with the names considering. Motivation can be a bit of a challenge but considering the workload they have and the fact that a lot of them have families they have to take care of when they get home, they do quite well really. A lot of the mothers bring their babies to class, strapping them to their backs or breastfeeding them while at the same time taking notes. Sometimes I get to have a hold in the pretence of allowing the mothers to get on with their work. In one of my classes there is a baby that can only be a few weeks old. He lies there quite happily in his basket. Wearing my Gambian outfit today got me lots of brownie points with the students. Friday is dress up day in the Gambia. I decided I would get with the culture and wear my Gambian two piece. I hadn’t anticipated how difficult these wrap skirts are to walk in especially when you have a European striding pace. Wrap skirts really aren’t made for striding, more waddling (if you are me that is). Gambian women seem to walk perfectly elegantly. Then the wind kept blowing the skirt apart so I kept trying to yank it down to protect my modesty. I must have looked a sight walking to work this morning. I did get a lot of attention though! The students kept popping their heads round the door of the lecture rooms “ Amie, you look so beautiful in African dress” I’ve never had such attention. One of them said to me “I hope you are going to wear it when you go back to England. At that moment I had a mental image of myself walking through the main street of Newport in my full Gambian dress. I’m not sure Newport is ready for it!
One thing I can say about the Gambians is that they really know how to liven up a rhyme. Heads, shoulders, knees and toes has got a much needed African revamp, the hokey cokey too has received some Gambian glitz.
I do like the atmosphere at the college. I have my regular peanut lady who shouts “kilijano” (that’s a compliment. It means you’re a regular) whenever she sees me because I buy so many peanuts from her. The students bring baobab ices to college to sell. 2 dalasi for one of those. They are really refreshing. My latest find is mini fish pies – 5 dalasi for a bag from another of my students.
It’s great when you walk into a classroom and they start singing one of the songs you have taught them or you just walk round the quad and they start singing at you. It’s a good feeling. Although I do feel a bit like I’m floundering around in the dark with little idea if what I am teaching them is going to be at all useful, when in some cases they have to go back to classes of fifty odd children with little resources. Songs and rhymes at least I think are the way to go. You can always do those with a large number of children. It’s also what I get the best response from the students with . They are just fanatical about writing all the words down to each song you do with them.
