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Published: June 13th 2012
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Work has been busy lately. I’ve done my workshops. I think they were moderately successful if not slightly frustrating.Most of the teachers responses were to complain that they had never had training in early years followed directly by requests to finish early or ‘I need to go out to drink water/answer this phone call/go for a wander around’. I thought the activities I did were relatively simple but they really struggled with some of them. The idea of planning an activity to do every day but making it a little bit harder towards the end of the week totally baffled them and you should have seen their faces when I said big sticks shouldn’t even be in the classroom even if they were to only threaten children with a beating rather than actually using them. I think you might need a degree in Gambian psycholgy before you can begin to have a truely successful workshop. I suppose their education has been so different from ours they just seem to process information in a different way. The manual I’ve written seems to have gone down well though and they all promised to try to use it.
I’ve been following
up my workshops by visiting all the schools and observing the lessons. Every other week I’ve been lucky enough to get taken round with the Future In Our Hands trainers in their sturdy, air conditioned 4x4 but the other weeks I’ve been scrabbling about on my bike. Quite good fun but wearing a helmet and bike jacket in 40 degree temperatures makes it an exhausting task. God knows what the people think of me as I roll up in their villages on my bike asking whether this is the village I’m looking for. They look at me like I’ve just been beamed down from another planet.
Observing the teachers has tested my patience to the limit. I’ve been managing to see between 2 to 3 schools a day; the early years class shut at half 11 so I’ve only got the morning to get round them. I told the teachers in the workshop that if I saw children chanting letters over and over again in the classrooms I would cry. I’ve been wiping my tears many times! Mind if they’re chanting letters at least they’re doing something, I visited a class yesterday where the teacher told
me she wasn’t feeling too well so she wasn’t going to teach today. I doubt sitting in the classroom as chaos surrounded her was making her feel much better. I expect the children were feeling chuffin’ sick too. I’ve also lost count of how many times I’ve turned up and there has been no teacher at all just a room full of unattended children. Most of the early years classes are taken by the headmaster so if they decide they have more important things to do the class is just left.
However, every so often I come across a teacher that restores my faith that I mustn’t have been talking complete gobble-de-gook in my workshops. Some are really trying, listening to advice and even occasionally using their own imaginations. I can’t tell you how pleased it makes me when I walk into a school compound and the children are in the middle of an activity outside, not a child/robot chanting letter sounds in sight. They say that your expectations of what you achieve here should be pretty low. If I manage to help even just one or two teachers I think I’ll be happy.
The road from Kumbija
One of the only hills around so the best view I get. After a morning in the school I go back to the office to write things up, that is while power is on. After that it’s a question of trying to find a job that doesn’t involve electricity or just sitting outside trying to stay as cool as possible. Have I mentioned at all in my blog that it’s hot here! I’m sorry, I can’t help it. It’s pretty much all I think about.
I’ve moved my bamboo bed from my sitting room to my veranda and this is where I spend most of my evenings. I read my book or do some sewing and generally watch compound life go by; attaya being made, dinner being cooked, washing being done and children playing. Eleanor often comes over for dinner which in cooking I’m always assisted by my little friend Adama. She’s a good stirrer and an even better washer up. I try to persuade her to let me do it every night but I rarely get my own way.
Lamin has just been visiting for a long weekend. In his four day stay he managed to cook for the whole compound and get a baby
The bridge to Kiss Kiss
Kiss Kiss, best name for a village ever! this bridge looks like it should have a troll lurking under it. named after him. Apparently it’s a tradition to name a baby after a ‘stranger’ (Gambian’s call their guests this) who is visiting the village. A woman in the compound opposite gave birth to her tenth (ninth surviving) child the morning after he arrived so they named the baby Lamin. He seemed as surprised as me about this so maybe it’s just a Basse thing rather than a general Gambian tradition.
So life in Basse is plodding along. I could seriously do with a break from the heat. I thought the rainy season had hit on the night of my arrival after the short storm we had. This turned out to be a false alarm though as there's been nothing since. The last couple of days the sky has clouded over just to tempt us into hoping for a drop but to no avail. Last night I was certain it was going to chuck it down as grey clouds came over, the wind howled and lightening filled the sky, but no, not a drop. It has to start soon!
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Mary
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Well done
It all sounds terribly frustrating so well done for your persistance. Glad to hear about you sewing, does that include any embroidery? Keep up the good work, it certainly seems as though you are needed and are making a difference xx