Blogs from Gambia, Africa - page 8

I am seriously hungry right now, and have been for the past week. It’s a pretty viable assumption that I probably have a tropical parasite in my tummy eating all my food and giving me the runs. My friend had this problem while living in Mexico, and the local solution for her was to not eat for 2 days, to starve the little critters, and then drink vodka, to get them drunk and confused and kill them. It worked for her, so if my problem persists I’ll give it a go. In homage to my hunger, I would like to share all about Gambian food with you (partially because I want some, partially because it’s good). For breakfast people eat a multitude of things. The local bread here is called Tapalapa (which I’m pretty sure has ... read more

Some of you may know already that I have taken up teaching English for grade 5 at a primary school here. If you didn’t know that, now you do. It’s a pretty interesting experience. I thought this portion of my life would come much later. I also thought that me wearing gaudy gold jewelry to look hot would come later in my life as well…but I’m living in West Africa, and the time for both is now. There are 3 5th grade classrooms, with about 50 kids in each. They are with the same teacher for all subjects all day. They have break at 11:30, which consists of them throwing sand at each other in the open area, running up trees, and buying food/cigarettes for the teachers. They come back from break around 12, and break ... read more

A few weeks ago my school participated in the Commonwealth, a federation of formerly British Colonies. Each grade was assigned to give a small performance about their designated country. My fifth graders were assigned Jamaica. Because I am “unbiased” in the school, I was picked to judge the competition. We all gathered in the open sand area and I had a desk set up for the serious judging of it all. The students were supposed to dress like their native countrymen, tell a bit of information on the country, and sing a song, recite a poem, or do a traditional dance. In come the 5th graders. I was supposed to be an unbiased member of the performances, but it was really difficult not to favor the 5th graders. They came to school dressed like Rastas and ... read more

After one night in Ziguinchor, where a large spider in the bathroom had me awake most of the night, we made our way to Kafountine, in the northern Casamance. We checked into another paradise - this time 'Le Paradise'. We were the only travellers staying here, and a couple of local fellows who we saw only briefly. It was like having the whole place to ourselves! The owner, Eve, claimed that the beach was 200m away and the town 800m. We found the town alright, but the beach was a lot longer away than 200m for us - we must have taken a wrong turn somewhere. The highlight of the beach area for us was the pirogue builders. It was incredible to watch the men building these boats by hand, no machinery in sight. Some of ... read more

I live in a compound with two other families. There are 3 houses (one being mine), and the other’s belong to Gambians…very domestic and traditional Gambians. Pretty much the day I moved in they expressed their concerns to me and my roommate, Julia, that we were not fit to clean an African house, and urged us to hire a maid ASAP. These people are very lovely, but are completely up in our business. They peer in my bedroom window just to see what’s up. Usually nothing besides my nudity and possibly some dance exercise to David Bowie. They knock on my windows at 7am to ask me questions, and tell me that I should feed my cat more often. All very nice, when I’ve had 2 cups of coffee and a cigarette. There is no such ... read more

When I get in a funky mood, and feel pissed about something, I like to write a list of things I love. It’s a nice way to appreciate the simple things in life that make you happy. I wrote this last week: 1. my current fingernail polish (adds a little sparkle to my writing routine) 2. my family and my home girls 3. Seeing old couples who wear matching outfits and hold hands. 4. When my cat sits on my lap when I use the toilet. 5. Tomatoes 6. Listening to music I have never heard 7. Hearing my brother play the guitar 8. The crusty outer edge of casseroles or pretty much anything 9. My mom and my brother’s laugh 10. When my dad says, “Observe Caution” 11. Scarfs 12. Giving and receiving head massages ... read more

I am reading a wonderful book at the current called “The White Man’s Burden: Why The West’s Efforts to Aid The Rest Have Done So Much Ill and So Little Good”, written by William Easterly. I’d like to share an excerpt from his book that I found to be particularly moving in my world, and hopefully yours. “I am driving out of Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, to the countryside. An endless line of women and girls is marching in the opposite direction, into the city. They range from nine to fifty-nine. Each one is bent nearly double under a load of firewood. The heavy lads propel them forward almost at a trot. I think of slaves driven along by an invisible slave driver. They are carrying the firewood from miles outside of Addis Ababa, where there are ... read more

For some queer reason I have been frequently getting the “What do you want to do with your life/ what are your career goals” question lately. I usually stare at the person with glazed over eyes and drool hanging off my chin in response. I usually don’t have much to say, and when I do say something, people look at me like I’m not ambitious enough, that I won’t amount to anything. What they are really saying, in their deepest gut, is, “Well why don’t you want to be successful and make a good living for yourself?” These life questions usually make me think of the question in different terms…What do you want? Well I can answer that question. I want more girls in the developing world to be educated. I want my family to be ... read more

I spent my long holiday weekend in Kartung, a village about one hour from where I live. Every year, around this time, there is a brilliant arts festival in this village. It’s four days long, and performers and spectators come from all over to be apart of the event. The art community isn’t very large in Gambia, so it’s great to be apart of a festival that is trying to promote it. Last year I went as a “performer” with the other people I went with. It was some kind of sick joke, because they dressed me up in tinfoil and made me throw plastic bags at the audience to promote environmental protection. Our group was not completely successful in completing this mission, but we had a kick ass time anyway. This year I went with ... read more

I’ve been putting a lot of thought recently into the Gambian bumster situation. Allow me to pause and explain bumsters for your full enjoyment. A bumster is a young Gambian man, typically with “rasta” hair, who hangs out on the beach or on the street and tries to make friends with white people in the hopes of earning a living. These are the people that are relentless in their efforts to talk to you. Their typical greetings are “Hey boss lady, you’re looking very smart today” (smart means awesome)… “Pretty lady, won’t you give me a minute of your time?”… “Oh lovely white girl, you’re looking so cool, come and chat with me”… “I love you, what is your name?”…and my personal favorite “Hey empress, heaven must be missing angels because I’m seeing one right now.” ... read more