Luckily, I've finally managed to post this picture of my family. It's only taken 3 trips to the internet cafe and over 2 1/2 hours of waiting for it to upload! But here it is... my Merry Christmas picture from Fatoto...

Christmas Eve

Saalam Malaekum and Merry Christmas! Well, school is done for the first term and we are on break now for Tobaski and Christmas. Tobaski is a Muslim holiday… it was celebrated on the 20^th of December this year… sometimes the dates change, depending on how they see the moon. I still haven’t quite figured out what it is they are looking for at the moon when they determine the date. It was the same thing for Ramadan. Some people said the holiday began on Thursday, and others said Friday. Then, it seemed as if everyone was going to celebrate it on Friday… then it changed again to Thursday. But really, the celebrations continued from Thursday to about Saturday or Sunday… so who knows? It’s like many things here. You just have to shrug your shoulders and go along with it. As much as I like to question things and constantly ask “why is it this way?” (I am a teacher, after all), I’ve learned since I’ve been in Africa that some things just are as they are…

For Tobaski, just about every family slaughters a Ram, and we eat almost nothing but lamb meat for at least three days. I have a picture of my family slaughtering the ram, but I’m not sure if it would be appropriate to post it online… They used my knife to slaughter it, and then laughed at the posture I assumed to observe the initial process. I was laying on the bantaba (which is a raised platform in the middle of the compound), my arms were stretched out beyond my face, and I was peering over them like a small child watching something she’s not supposed to see… they said “Maimuna na susi!”, which means “Maimuna is scared!” I told them I just didn’t like to watch the actual death of the animal… but I still watched, and then I even helped them to skin it and remove the meat. After the ram had been dead for a while, I had no problem with the rest of the process… in fact, I was able to conduct a short anatomy lesson with my brother and his son… We took out the lungs and the heart and I explained the structures, cut the heart open to show the different chambers, etc… they were interested. And then we all proceeded to eat as much meat in as many different ways as we could for the next two days. My brother cooked a delicious stew with some of the vegetables that I had bought in Basse… carrots, potatoes, cabbage, onion… it was delicious. I made spaghetti with meat sauce. I cooked the whole meal over an open fire, and used whatever seasonings I could find, along with a tomato sauce seasoning packet that my family sent me (thanks mom and dad!). We also ate plain meat grilled over hot coals, as well as several different African dishes with meat… let me tell you, it was a lot of meat. But it was a nice break from fish, which is about all they eat, usually.

The next day, I took out all of the Christmas decorations that my family sent me (which arrived just in time, by the way). My parents sent a small Christmas tree with little ornaments, a Christmas penguin (of course, anyone who knows my mother knows that the penguin is a necessary Christmas figure… even in Africa!), and a small nativity scene. I taught the children in my compound how to decorate the Christmas tree and let them go to town with it. My uncle mailed me some candy canes (among many other wonderful gifts too… thanks Uncle Dave and Sally!!!). I shared most of these with my family. Then I had fun taking pictures of my family and neighbors with the various Christmas items. It was fun, and a great opportunity to teach them about Christmas. We talked about the nativity scene. They know all about Jesus and Mary… they learn about them in the Koran, but it’s a very different version of the story than what is told in the bible. And the names are slightly different. Jesus is Essa, and Mary is Mariama.

Then I packed up all of my Christmas items, along with my mandolin and another bag of clothes and school things, and tied everything to the back of my bike on Saturday morning for the 42 km ride to Basse for Christmas and New Years. Liza took a picture of my when I arrived. I had to laugh at myself… even in Africa, I somehow manage to travel with too much stuff for Christmas! I’m hoping to try to post the picture with this blog. We’ll see if the computers in Basse will allow me to do this or not.

Christmas is tomorrow, but it sure doesn’t feel like it. The temperature has increased in the past few days, and I’m pretty sure it’s been at least 100 F during the afternoon since at least Friday. The temperature in my hut the other morning was 95… I really hope this doesn’t mean that the wonderful “cold season” is already coming to an end. It only lasted a few weeks! So here I am, in tank tops and sandals, preparing for our Christmas celebration tomorrow. Something about it just doesn’t fell right (well, many things about it, really…)

One of the URD Peace Corps volunteers, Dan, has got it in his head that we need to cook a Terdukin for Christmas this year… I’m not sure that I spelled that correctly, but it’s when you put a chicken inside of a duck, inside of a turkey… he came up with this idea a while back, which we all said, “sure, let’s try it!”, but there’s several potential problems. First of all, Turkeys in the Gambia??? Second of all, no on in Basse has a true oven. We are going to “borrow” the oven of one of the local restaurants, but it’s the same kind of oven they use to cook bread in. It’s a huge brick oven that you heat for several hours by lighting a wood fire inside. Then, when you are ready, you spread the coals and put the items you want to bake inside of it. There’s no way to tell what temperature the oven is, or how long it will stay that way… nonetheless Dan has made almost all of the arrangements. He somehow found a turkey (raised by Peace Corps Volunteers), which he brought to Basse yesterday on the back of his bike. Unfortunately, he’s grown attached to the turkey now, and has named it “beast.” I hope he’ll be ok when we have to slaughter it… Alex, another PCV in the URD (that’s Upper River Division), has brought a duck to Basse (ducks, once again, have been introduced to The Gambia by Peace Corps Volunteers), and now we just need to find a chicken… but that shouldn’t be difficult. Chickens are all over the place here. Tonight, we will probably begin the process by killing the birds and plucking the feathers… then, we’ll begin cooking tomorrow. There should be about 20 of us here for the festivities. This includes 3 VSO volunteers (the UK’s version of the Peace Corps), and one catholic nun. We’ve just been gathering all the Toubabs we can find!

I have much more to report later, but for now, I should probably get to the market to buy some items for the things I’ll be contributing… It seems I’ve been put on pumpkin duty again. But this time, I won’t be making pumpkin pie. I’m going to do something different… I’ll just have to see what kind of ingredients I can find. So I’ll be writing again very soon… but for now… Merry Christmas!!!

Thoughts and Reflections

Unlike my usual blog entries, which are usually about my day-to-day routines (which lately, includes lots of food talk!), this one goes into some thoughts and reflections... the good and the bad. The following entry expresses my opinions alone and does not represent the opinions of the Peace Corps...

Now that I am “settled in” to life in Fatoto, I have finally had the opportunity to analyze my feelings a little regarding the people of The Gambia and my role here as a Peace Corps volunteer. It is a strange position to be in, because the Peace Corps does an excellent job of integrating us into the culture and communities that we will be a part of for two years of our lives. However, no matter how well I learn language, no matter how familiar I become with local customs, traditions and religious beliefs and practices, no matter how close I become to members of my family and of my community… I never have been and never will be a true “Gambian.” And while that fact may seem to be an obvious statement, its impact on my life here is tremendous. I often sit and watch my sister, Amin, when she is with her good friends. I find myself envious of those friendships because it is just a friendship between two Gambians. Neither friend is viewed as more privileged than the other, and therefore there are no expectations other than friendship between them. The color of my skin is a symbol of privilege and wealth. I have found myself in more than one friendship here in which, eventually, I realize that part of the intention of my friend is to be on the receiving end of whatever I can provide for them… and not just friendship. Some want money, some want me to take them to the United States, some want me to marry them (most likely so that I can take them to the United States)… others ask for whatever they can think of… pens, pencils, papers, money to buy clothes for school, etc. And the thing is, almost everything they ask for is a worthy request, but I find myself explaining again and again, that I am here to work… I am not here to give away things or to bring people to America. It is frustrating for me in multiple ways, and I deal with it as well as I can. I am happy with the relationships that I have formed, and it is in my nature to grow attached to people quickly, but I have to hold back at least a little. Even with those that have never asked me for anything but what I am here to do… even with those kind people in my life, I keep my truest feelings guarded. This is one of the many reasons why I am ever grateful for the other Peace Corps volunteers. I can let those guards down and just be myself for a while...

It is certainly frustrating when I am constantly being approached and asked for things... from strangers and from people I know. Perhaps the hardest part of all about all of this is that I understand why most Gambians feel this way, so even when I want to get angry about a situation, its difficult for me to do. These people have practically nothing. The Gambia’s primary export is peanuts, and peanuts just don’t generate much income for the typical Gambian. If a Gambian wants to make money, he/she finds a way to leave the country and work… then he can send money back to his family (the dollar goes a long way here… the Euro goes even farther). What brings in more money than anything else to The Gambia is tourism, and who are your typical tourists? They come mostly from Europe (as well as other countries, like America), they are almost always white, and they usually have money… or at least enough money to travel on and vacation with. These are the “toubabs” that Gambians know from experience. (If anyone comes to visit, you will become well-acquainted with the word toubab, because you will hear it shouted at you often... they don't mean harm, but it gets old after a while). Their other image of Americans and Europeans comes from the media: news reports and television (if they have television), movies, and what is talked about in music (favorite American musicians include Akon, 50 Cent, and Snoop Dog… what kind of image of Americans do these musicians send?) The other group of Toubabs that Gambians see here are people working for NGO’s and volunteer organizations like the Peace Corps and VSO (based out of the UK). There is so much aid coming into this country in varied forms… Some of us are here to work, but others come in, give away something or provide funding for something, and then leave. I remember visiting the primary school in Jiroff (where I did my training). Some of the buildings at the school were built by a Swedish NGO, the water pump was provided to the school by the world bank, the food that the children ate for lunch (or what was left of it after much of it "disappeared") was provided by the world food program, and the garden was planted by the Peace Corps. Organizations around the world donate things like books for libraries, computers, money for building schools, solar systems for schools and health centers, medications, vaccines… the list goes on and on. Unfortunately, a lot of these donated items mysteriously disappear, and many others fall into disrepair and disuse because there is no one there to train them how to take care of these items.

With all of this in mind, it’s no wonder the Gambians see my white skin and wonder what I can give them. With all of this aid coming in, many of them have forgotten that it is possible to achieve some of these things themselves… if someone doesn’t bring it to them, or take them out of the country to get it themselves, then they will just have to be without it. Some of the more cynical Peace Corps volunteers that I have met have suggested that perhaps the best thing we could do for the Gambia is to pull all our aid out of this country. They reason that as long as aid keeps coming, the people here have no need to work toward sustainability… if something breaks down, they can hope that replacements will come. While I disagree with this mentality, I understand the frustration and experiences that have led them to this point of view. After all, they didn’t arrive here feeling this way, or they would never have come at all. It is their experiences that have shaped that opinion. Last week, we celebrated the 40^th anniversary of the Peace Corps in the Gambia, which is impressive in many ways. But in some ways it can be discouraging. After all, we are still working towards the same goals that the first Peace Corps volunteers began here 40 years ago. This is when I remind myself that development takes time… America spent more than 40 years to get to the point that it’s at now. And there have been vast improvements here in the quality of life because of organizations like the Peace Corps.

Regardless of all of these thoughts, I do truly enjoy the people and the culture. Yesterday, some of my students went out into the community to look for donations towards a training camp that they want to have at school for a new organization called Ambassadors for Peace. On foot, they covered the entire village of Fatoto and the surrounding villages. They returned with over 400 dalasi in donations from different people. I read their record book, and I saw that most people paid anywhere from 5 to 25 dalasi… which isn’t much, but for many, it’s more than what they have. It is a reflection of how generous the Gambian people can be with the little that they have. I can’t tell you how often students or just random villagers have brought me small gifts of food or hand made trinkets. My brother, Abdoulie, has spent his free time (which isn’t much) every afternoon in the past few weeks collecting wood from the bush to construct a fence for me around the plot of land that I will be using for my garden. Without a fence, there is no point in planting anything. The animals are roaming freely now, and will demolish my poor garden before it even has a chance to start growing. It is tough work, cutting down wood and hauling it to the compound, but he does it without complaint and refuses to let me help. A number of people, including students, friends, and even one of the care-takers at school have offered to wash my clothes for me. While this is tempting, I’ve actually begun to enjoy my clothes-washing sessions. It’s nice to do some hands-on work… and there's something gratifying in knowing that I can do it myself.

Gambians are devoutly religious, and I have had many fascinating conversations with them. I enjoy the call for prayers every day… soulful Arabic melodies called over speakers throughout the village. I also appreciate the peaceful look on their faces when they discuss their beliefs. And even though we disagree on many points, they still accept me for who I am, and no one has judged me yet for those differences. It makes me think that if all Muslims were as generous and accepting as the Gambians, then our world would be a different place right now… but then again, we could say the same for other religions as well.

So here you have it… my deep thoughts of the week… the good and the bad. I wish that I could honestly report nothing but positive feelings, but in reality, my feelings constantly fluctuate. I knew when I joined the Peace Corps that this would be a challenge, and it is true. This is by far the most difficult thing I have ever done, but the rewards are unbelievable, and I am learning more about myself than ever before in my life.