(Once I caught a fish alive)

Just a few Brikama college photos (six little ducks went swimming one day)

I have returned to Soma to discover that I have actually developed quite a fondness for the place. I'm pleased to get back to the peaceful, easygoing, sedentary kind of life after the hecticness of Brikama. There have been some minor changes in life here. The compound has become very verdant. Groundnuts are growing in abundance and tall green weeds line the path to the tap. It seems a bit strange that in such a short while it will become dry and barren again. Adding to this I have a new neighbour in the form of new VSO Marcus who, being very technically minded is great to have around, as he deals with all things electrical and computer related. Kate is also happy because she has two people to send off to the market for her cooking ingredients and to get cashpower. She has however declared an edict that I have to cook one night a week for everybody and one night a week for myself. She says so that she won’t have to worry that I will waste away to nothing when she goes home.

The stars have been great lately and we have spent many a happy hour on our verranda star gazing or watching the various lightning flashes in the distance. We have seen quite a number of shooting stars and the milky way.

We have fallen very quickly back into the same old patterns of behaviour. My daily trip to the bituk for a coke and half a tapalapa, mayonnaise and maggi has resumed. Although I have forgotten most of the Fula Fatoumata taught me. Kate still has a love/hate relationship, well more of a hate/hate relationship with her bike. First day back and she had to ride pillion with me because she refused to put petrol in it. Since then it has been nothing but temperamental and has had 2 flat tyres!

For me it was time to get serious with the motorbiking. No more of these namby pamby journeys 20 minutes down a paved highway with regular signposting. It was time for hardcore terrain, potholes, hills, scree, puddles, having to navigate by mango trees and distinctive fencing. Of course this wasn’t really the reason why I found myself on the way to Kwinella. It was for the serious purpose of meeting the head teachers in the cluster to discuss the phonics programme.
Cluster monitor Seedy was ably leading me on the South road from Soma carefully guiding me round potholes and showing me the best part of the road on which to ride. First stop Jiroff, then Nema abc nursery, Nema community health centre, Nema Lower basic (where we had the first of the foodbowls, tilapia fish, rice and sauce) and several glasses of attiya. Then lastly to another foodbowl and of course more attiya at Kwinella lower basic. It had been a good day and well fed I started off on the hour’s journey back. This time alone. But alas grey clouds were lurking in the distance and it was a race against time, would I beat the approaching storm. No chance! It was to be a lesson in being prepared.
Suddenly I was under the cloud, the temperature dropped markedly, then came the winds whipping up ribbons of sand into my eyes (of course no visor) and battering against the side of the bike shunting me sideways. Next the stinging rain and the lightning. I was all the time trying to weigh up my options. Since the option of phoning my mum and Dad to come and get me wasn’t really viable I was considering the following. Do I carry on and just pray I reach Soma in one piece? Do I stop and seek shelter with the people of the villages? Do I stop and phone Kate and cry? So I continued leathering it over pot holes and through puddles and mud with my eyes closed hanging on to the handlebars for grim death. It was reminiscent of the gele journey from hell that feeling of tremendous relief at reaching Kaira Konko scout lodge at the edge of Soma still in tact.
I stumbled through the gates of the compound, something like the creature from the blue lagoon greeted by some very worried faces. It ended as motorbike adventures invariably do. Glass of 70 dalasi gin thrust in my hand and all is right with the world.

Brikama

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.

We have left Soma for the summer. Kate has gone home for a month and I am in Brikama at Gambia College which is the teacher training college. I am helping out with Early Childhood Development lectures for 8 weeks and had my first week of lectures this week. The students are unqualfied nursery teachers from all over the Gambia who come to do the ECD certificate during the summer and then go back to their schools. Yesterday I had 6 hours of lectures and its quite hard work in the heat. Especially since you are prancing about singing songs and playing games and you don't have many breaks to drink water so its exhausting but very enjoyable. The students are very friendly and welcoming. Trying to remember all their names is quite difficult though.

Some of the vso's - Amy, Emily and Emma left for home this week. There was a leaving party at Courtney's house which was really good fun. It was a wigs and hairdo party but kate and I failed miserably at the fancy dress I'm afraid. Gambian cocktails - Wonjo and vodka and baobab and brandy and of course plenty of julbrew, more singing and drumming of course. Emma helped me to discover the black and white and sepia option on my camera so I went a bit mad with it. Photos to follow.

The photos at the top are In the compound in Brikama where Rach and Emma had a tye dye lesson from Genaba. I just watched the process and took the photos.

I did have quite an amusing experience in Brikama in my first week. It rains a lot in Brikama and when it does rain the streets are under water. I was making my way home from the college to the compound and my sense of direction failed me. I ended up wading down the street being directed by an old Gambian lady, (who spotted the hapless toubab), as to which part of the river was the best to wade through. Some people sitting at a nearby bitiko and the guys from the garage all decided to get involved, pointing out the way to go and shouting to me. Then while wading my way down another street was spotted by some children who proceeded to make stepping stones across the street for me. It caused quite a stir. They all seemed to think it was quite amusing! xxx L

The journey of the bamboo bed

I jumped at the chance to inherit Emma’s bamboo bed as you can only get them from a few places and they are great to have for visitors. But there were going to be some logistical barriers involved in me actually getting the bed to Soma from its home in Kerewan. Emma and Carol very kindly agreed to bring the bed to Farafenni on the top of a gelle. Which left me and Kate to transport it from Farafenni town to the ferry port then over on the ferry and then from the ferry port to Soma. We braced ourselves for a day full of challenges. We were envisioning having to negotiate ridiculous prices, maybe having to hitch a lift on a lorry, and with the very real possibility of rain adding complications. We made a pact that whatever came up we were just going to go with it.
But for once, everything went remarkably smoothly. Not very interesting I know! First stroke of luck was Carol and Emma had managed to get a lift with the bed to Farafenni from Emma’s landlord. We stored the bed in Eddie’s hotel while we had a look around Farafenni. After having chicken and chips and a julbrew or two we embarked upon the journey home. We first managed to get a big taxi with a kind of roof rack and then got off at the ferry and carried the bed over much to everyone’s amusement. We did get some help from a random Gambian man who announced that he was happy to help on the account that the bed was a locally made product. At the other end there was a man with a wheelbarrow ready and waiting and then we watched skeptically as a taxi driver crammed it into his boot and tied it on. I had indeed cost me quite a lot in taxi fare but the process couldn’t have been smoother. It makes a change. The last time we went through farafenni it was only ourselves we were transporting and we caused a fist fight amongst the taxi drivers and then had to wait hours and hours to get a bus to Janjanbureh so we don't really have a great history with travel.

random pictures

This is what you look like after a gele journey upcountry.

pre karaoke meal

watching England vs USA at the high commisson

Karaoke queens and one king

After having a nice meal at a Chinese restaurant and blowing our volunteer allowance on a bottle of wine of two between us we decided that we were all in the mood for karaoke. That is me and Kate, of course, and Mariella and Max. We headed to Churchills. It was all quite drunken as you can probably tell from the photos xx

The first rains came on Monday night. I don’t think I was really prepared for this event. I was just like oh its going to rain soon. That’ll be good. It might cool down. This was an all out storm, sheet lightning like you wouldn’t believe, thunder crashing and the rain thundering down on the tin roof. There was so much rain I had visions of my pit latrine filling with water and overflowing. I lay there for a while worrying about it and finallyI had to venture outside into the chaos. It took all of two seconds to cover my pit latrine but it was like someone had chucked a bucket of water over me. Then all of a sudden it was freezing cold. This is something I have never felt in Soma so I sort of had to make the most of it and I lay there shivering. Between feeling like the world was crashing down on me and the planks of wood from my bed sticking in my back (its the most uncomfortable bed ever) not much sleep was had that night.
We were going to a school up the highway that morning. We edged our motorbikes out of the compound gate and were greeted by several swimming pool sized puddles. Could be an interesting ride… and it was! I nearly came of twice in the mud. Its tricky working out whether to go around the puddles or straight through them and as decisiveness has never really been a trait I was blessed with, I usually end up making the decision right at the last minute and coming a cropper. Aswell as negotiating the mud - the goats, donkeys and pedestrians were out in full force that morning. Usually you beep at the goats well in advance to warn them you are coming and they just stand in the middle of the road staring right at you and then when you get really close they can’t make up their minds which way to go! Its not easy.
The ride up the highway is really enjoyable though. There is hardly any traffic, the breeze is cool and you are right in the countryside with donkey cards going past carrying wood and oxen wandering by the side of the road or across the road. You turn off the highway into a sandy track with typical African round huts and you get to the school. It's just two concrete buildings, the yard is sandy with a huge mango tree for shade. It’s a lovely setting. When we were on our way back from the school there was a troop of about 50 baboons just sitting there at the side of the road. There was one mother with her little baby clinging to her stomach. It was really cool!