Written on March 29th, 2010
I recently taught my host siblings how to play crazy eights. It really wasn't that difficult because they play a very similar game here which is like a souped up version. Jacks skip, 10s reverse, 2s mean the person next to you takes two and Ace elicits the question "Are you strong?" if the next person can't also throw down an ace they take three card. All of this is done rapidly with rampant cheating and cards being slapped down everywhere. So introducing crazy eights only required me to implore them all to not cheat and wait for their turn.
We play sitting in a circle on my mat in the shade and when ever someone wins I sing "Champion, Champion" in a deep voice. Since we started our card games I noticed that my second mom-Yaay Sarjo- would often come and sit near us and curiously eye our game. Though she never joined in.
Today after lunch it was the kind of hot that makes me wish clothing was optional, the wind was blowing hard and hot so it provided absolutely no relief and made doing anything but sitting seem like a horrible task.
I was laying on my mat in the shade about to pick up pen and paper to write a letter to the walking ladies (Hi guys! I miss you), when Yaay Sarjo who was sitting near me brewing attaya said with a little hesitation in her voice. "Ramatoulie, teach me how to play cards." I was blown away, I sensed that she wanted to learn but was truly impressed that she actually asked.
Yaay Sarjo is illiterate, she's never been to school and I'm pretty sure she can't even recognize numbers. So I sat down to teach my illiterate mom to play crazy eights all the while explaining in kindergarten Wolof at best.
But she got it! Before I thought her eyes looked crazy but now I just think there is a depth of understanding behind them. After two games she was recognizing the numbers, distinguishing pretty well between the four suits. When some other younger girls came along to play she told them off when they tried to help/play for her and by the end she had beaten me!! The only thing I could think of to say in order to convey how impressed I was with her was, "Yaay Sarjo! Mus nga, yow am nga xel." Which translates to, "Yaay Sarjo you are a cat, you have a mind." Which is the only way I know of in Wolof to say you're smart--something tells me however that Yaay Sarjo understood.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Bakar Jeng
Written on March 25th, 2010
So a few days ago I came home from a brief trip to my friend Wells' village. We were doing a CDDP sensitization and VDC training there for three days so I decided to spend the night with Wells rather than biking back and forth. As always in KJJ, where things are usually moving at less than a snails pace, when I leave a ton of changes suddenly and inexplicably take palce. ie. Baay Waly finally built my shade structure outside my house and surprise I have a new sort of pseudo host brother.
He is about 3 and his name is Baboucar "Bakar" Jeng and through him I am seeing KJJ and the Joof clan in a new light tuned by almost three months of calling this place home. As Bakar and the rest of my family navigate how to integrate him into my family I find myself wondering, "Is this what they felt like with me too?"
Granted I can wash my own hands and use the bathroom by myself but other than that my negotiation of the Joof's and my place within the family is much the same. My language skills are better than his, if I do say so myself (yes I can speak more Wolof than a 3 year old). But a lot of the family culture stuff I was just as lost on as little Bakar. Where to sit around the food bowl, when it's acceptable to take a nap, who to take seriously (Yaay Amie) and who to joke with (Baay Waly), and where you fit in in the fracas of it all.
So if you had to sum it up it's taken the presence of a slightly developmentally impaired three year old Senegalese/Gambian with a slight pot belly and a great smile to show me how far I have really come as Ramatoulie Joof. I know where I'm expected to sit around the food bowl, who to seek out for different information/conversation, how to peel the vegetables for our staple dish "chew" and where to put my mat around the fire. Not to say that I'm funny integrated or 100 percent sure of what's going on but at least I've learned to live with the uncertainty.
So a few days ago I came home from a brief trip to my friend Wells' village. We were doing a CDDP sensitization and VDC training there for three days so I decided to spend the night with Wells rather than biking back and forth. As always in KJJ, where things are usually moving at less than a snails pace, when I leave a ton of changes suddenly and inexplicably take palce. ie. Baay Waly finally built my shade structure outside my house and surprise I have a new sort of pseudo host brother.
He is about 3 and his name is Baboucar "Bakar" Jeng and through him I am seeing KJJ and the Joof clan in a new light tuned by almost three months of calling this place home. As Bakar and the rest of my family navigate how to integrate him into my family I find myself wondering, "Is this what they felt like with me too?"
Granted I can wash my own hands and use the bathroom by myself but other than that my negotiation of the Joof's and my place within the family is much the same. My language skills are better than his, if I do say so myself (yes I can speak more Wolof than a 3 year old). But a lot of the family culture stuff I was just as lost on as little Bakar. Where to sit around the food bowl, when it's acceptable to take a nap, who to take seriously (Yaay Amie) and who to joke with (Baay Waly), and where you fit in in the fracas of it all.
So if you had to sum it up it's taken the presence of a slightly developmentally impaired three year old Senegalese/Gambian with a slight pot belly and a great smile to show me how far I have really come as Ramatoulie Joof. I know where I'm expected to sit around the food bowl, who to seek out for different information/conversation, how to peel the vegetables for our staple dish "chew" and where to put my mat around the fire. Not to say that I'm funny integrated or 100 percent sure of what's going on but at least I've learned to live with the uncertainty.
Community Driven Development!
Written on March 20th, 2010
Another day another CDDP (the World Banks Community Driven Development Project) meeting that I have to mentally prepare myself for. As we plod through the packet on VDC (Village Development Committee) organization I'm struck by how slowly development goes here. I think it's partially because of culture but another large part of it is a lack of education. This lack of education effects the training in two really important ways.
It means we have to go really slowly to make sure everyone is understanding. This means asking endless clarifying questions ie. when talking about the responsibilities of every position in the VDC.
Me: Who is the chairperson? [Chairperson raises his hand.] What are the responsibilities of your job? [Chairperson lists responsibilities.]
Me: Ok, well here are the things a chairperson is commonly in charge of. [I read off a list of things.] Now, who can tell me the responsibilities of the chairperson?
[Another couple VDC members struggle to regurgitate the information I just gave.]
Also, because CDDP is a World Bank program all the training manuals and information is in English so I present in English and then one of the other people at the meeting (Lamin/Baboucar) has to then translate it into Wolof. Needless to say it is an incredibly slow process. At the end of the day I often don't feel as if I've accomplished anything. So personally I am working on realizing that developments slow pace here can mean months and months of meetings where I don't feel as if anything is being accomplished to build a base for a successful project months down the road. And that project may be as simple as a coos milling machine or a covered well but for this community it's vital. These are all things I should probably start meditating on every morning to ensure my continued sanity and stability.
Another day another CDDP (the World Banks Community Driven Development Project) meeting that I have to mentally prepare myself for. As we plod through the packet on VDC (Village Development Committee) organization I'm struck by how slowly development goes here. I think it's partially because of culture but another large part of it is a lack of education. This lack of education effects the training in two really important ways.
It means we have to go really slowly to make sure everyone is understanding. This means asking endless clarifying questions ie. when talking about the responsibilities of every position in the VDC.
Me: Who is the chairperson? [Chairperson raises his hand.] What are the responsibilities of your job? [Chairperson lists responsibilities.]
Me: Ok, well here are the things a chairperson is commonly in charge of. [I read off a list of things.] Now, who can tell me the responsibilities of the chairperson?
[Another couple VDC members struggle to regurgitate the information I just gave.]
Also, because CDDP is a World Bank program all the training manuals and information is in English so I present in English and then one of the other people at the meeting (Lamin/Baboucar) has to then translate it into Wolof. Needless to say it is an incredibly slow process. At the end of the day I often don't feel as if I've accomplished anything. So personally I am working on realizing that developments slow pace here can mean months and months of meetings where I don't feel as if anything is being accomplished to build a base for a successful project months down the road. And that project may be as simple as a coos milling machine or a covered well but for this community it's vital. These are all things I should probably start meditating on every morning to ensure my continued sanity and stability.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Sleeping
Written on March 3rd, 2010
So there are lots of elements of sleeping here that I find amusing. First, every night without fail at least one and usually a number of my host siblings fall asleep outside around the fire. This happens for a number of reasons:
1) their little/run around/work all day
2) they can't sleep very soundly with 2 to 3 people to a bed with at least 4 people in each room
3) it gets dark here around 7:30 or 8 pm and we don't eat dinner until at least 9
They usually fall asleep on a mat on the ground. To get them off the mat and into bed the tactics are usually to yell their name, yell at them to go to bed, hit them hard/repeatedly while yelling and finally if none of these tactics work dragging them by the arm (while still yelling) into the house while ordering them to wash and go to bed. I think its pretty clear that I don't really believe that this is the best/most effective method for getting the kids to go to bed. Basically you let them go to bed/fall asleep when they're tired/wherever they are and then yell at them for falling asleep not in bed. It is kind of funny to observe and it make me wonder what they might do if I ever fall asleep by the fire.
Beyond the going to bed habits of my host family I think my sleeping habits are also kind of amusing. I go to bed every night by 10:30 at the latest but I usually go into my house shortly after dinner, around 9 or 9:30. I have been doing this literally almost every night for the past two months but they are still really shocked every time I say I'm going to bed. This shock is followed by an insistence that I stay and chat. The few times I have stayed to chat our "chatting" consists of sitting/lying in silence and staring at either the fire or the sky. So though chatting is also really not that much of an interaction they still insist that I must stay and chat which really means stare awkwardly at each other in silence.
So there are lots of elements of sleeping here that I find amusing. First, every night without fail at least one and usually a number of my host siblings fall asleep outside around the fire. This happens for a number of reasons:
1) their little/run around/work all day
2) they can't sleep very soundly with 2 to 3 people to a bed with at least 4 people in each room
3) it gets dark here around 7:30 or 8 pm and we don't eat dinner until at least 9
They usually fall asleep on a mat on the ground. To get them off the mat and into bed the tactics are usually to yell their name, yell at them to go to bed, hit them hard/repeatedly while yelling and finally if none of these tactics work dragging them by the arm (while still yelling) into the house while ordering them to wash and go to bed. I think its pretty clear that I don't really believe that this is the best/most effective method for getting the kids to go to bed. Basically you let them go to bed/fall asleep when they're tired/wherever they are and then yell at them for falling asleep not in bed. It is kind of funny to observe and it make me wonder what they might do if I ever fall asleep by the fire.
Beyond the going to bed habits of my host family I think my sleeping habits are also kind of amusing. I go to bed every night by 10:30 at the latest but I usually go into my house shortly after dinner, around 9 or 9:30. I have been doing this literally almost every night for the past two months but they are still really shocked every time I say I'm going to bed. This shock is followed by an insistence that I stay and chat. The few times I have stayed to chat our "chatting" consists of sitting/lying in silence and staring at either the fire or the sky. So though chatting is also really not that much of an interaction they still insist that I must stay and chat which really means stare awkwardly at each other in silence.
Sweeping With Fatou
Written on February 28th, 2010
So for the past week and a half I have completely packed up and emptied my house. The roof of my house has been torn off (think thatch piles and a stick frame) and replaced. Baay Waly cemented and white washed and today we just needed to sweep out the debris and I would be ready to set up shop. So like a good Gambian women in the making I grabbed my grass broom, bent at the waist and started sweeping. Pretty soon there after my youngest host sister Fatou, whose about 7 or 8, came over and wanted to help.
Fatou is a typical 7-8 year old in that she has a big personality/attitude, a sense that she knows how to do most everything and no attention to detail or attention span to do the job thoroughly/efficiently. Her sweeping strategy encapsulated all of that. Her "sweeping" was basically creating huge dust clouds whenever her broom happened to land with no methodology of how to best tackle the task. She also didn't really listen to my fragmented and grammatically in correct orders in Wolof and at one point she tried to tell me what to do. This is really not surprising behavior for any 8 year old but it nonetheless was an exercise of patience.
We must have looked amazing and crazy to an outsider. A cloud of dust following behind me as I firmly say in Wolof, "The outside, give and bring!"
When I really want to say, "Take this full dust pan outside, empty it and bring it back."
Instead of having any meaningful communication or teamwork we just continued as we were and eventually my house was clean.
So for the past week and a half I have completely packed up and emptied my house. The roof of my house has been torn off (think thatch piles and a stick frame) and replaced. Baay Waly cemented and white washed and today we just needed to sweep out the debris and I would be ready to set up shop. So like a good Gambian women in the making I grabbed my grass broom, bent at the waist and started sweeping. Pretty soon there after my youngest host sister Fatou, whose about 7 or 8, came over and wanted to help.
Fatou is a typical 7-8 year old in that she has a big personality/attitude, a sense that she knows how to do most everything and no attention to detail or attention span to do the job thoroughly/efficiently. Her sweeping strategy encapsulated all of that. Her "sweeping" was basically creating huge dust clouds whenever her broom happened to land with no methodology of how to best tackle the task. She also didn't really listen to my fragmented and grammatically in correct orders in Wolof and at one point she tried to tell me what to do. This is really not surprising behavior for any 8 year old but it nonetheless was an exercise of patience.
We must have looked amazing and crazy to an outsider. A cloud of dust following behind me as I firmly say in Wolof, "The outside, give and bring!"
When I really want to say, "Take this full dust pan outside, empty it and bring it back."
Instead of having any meaningful communication or teamwork we just continued as we were and eventually my house was clean.
A Celebration of Normality
Written on February 28th, 2010
In celebration of feeling normal here are somethings that no longer elicit a profound response from me.
* pit latrines
* eating rice three times a day
[this doesn't mean I particularly like these things]
* food bowl (eating from one huge bowl with my family)
* public transportation
* surviving spending the day speaking in Wolof
* spending time with my family
* fetching water and carrying a bucket on my head (not that I'm good at it)
* bucket baths (I now kind of like them but that might just be because after I feel clean)
* lowering my expectations and not feeling bad if all I did today is drink attaya and shell peanuts
* bike rides
* being hot and sweaty always
* speaking in Gambian English
* GI issues and generally strange/ridiculous bodily functions
In celebration of feeling normal here are somethings that no longer elicit a profound response from me.
* pit latrines
* eating rice three times a day
[this doesn't mean I particularly like these things]
* food bowl (eating from one huge bowl with my family)
* public transportation
* surviving spending the day speaking in Wolof
* spending time with my family
* fetching water and carrying a bucket on my head (not that I'm good at it)
* bucket baths (I now kind of like them but that might just be because after I feel clean)
* lowering my expectations and not feeling bad if all I did today is drink attaya and shell peanuts
* bike rides
* being hot and sweaty always
* speaking in Gambian English
* GI issues and generally strange/ridiculous bodily functions
The Gambian Lemonade Stand
Written on February 18th, 2010
So I just got back from walking around Kerr Jarga with Mberry and Menghe selling "naan mbourou"--"drinking bread." Which is pounded rice, baobab juice, sugar and milk in a drinkable bag. It was ironic to me how the entrepreneurial spirit of kids here is much the same as that of kids in the US who set up a lemonade stand on their street corner. But this desire for lemonade stand businesses doesn't end for people here at high school and in many cases it justs gets more intricate.
But first I think its important to talk about the variety of things kids sell. "Naan mbourou" is one but panketos (donut holes), ebee (cassava, lemon, palm oil etc.) stew, salted peanuts, icees, fish pies etc. The list goes on and I think the most interesting thing is the intricacy of the dishes. It is way more than what a twelve year old in the US could produce. Beyond these things the women here will also sell "small things" for making lunch like salt, pepper, Jumbo (a MSG seasoning cube), tomato paste, oil etc. But for all their entrepreneurial ambitions its rare for them to have any sense of making a profit, inputs and outputs. Today when Mbayang was making "naan mbourou" she asked me to loan her D20. I asked her how much she thought she would make and she wasn't sure she would even make back the D20 she wanted me to loan her. I ended up loaning her D10 and total she spent D40 to produce the 41 bags that she sells for D1--so she is going to make one dalasi in profit. Even though shes an intelligent girl she could not really understand that she needed to come up with a way to get a greater return for her efforts. This makes me wonder if the illiterate women who sell "small small things" for making lunch ever make any money or if their just recycling their inputs over and over again without any personal gain.
So I just got back from walking around Kerr Jarga with Mberry and Menghe selling "naan mbourou"--"drinking bread." Which is pounded rice, baobab juice, sugar and milk in a drinkable bag. It was ironic to me how the entrepreneurial spirit of kids here is much the same as that of kids in the US who set up a lemonade stand on their street corner. But this desire for lemonade stand businesses doesn't end for people here at high school and in many cases it justs gets more intricate.
But first I think its important to talk about the variety of things kids sell. "Naan mbourou" is one but panketos (donut holes), ebee (cassava, lemon, palm oil etc.) stew, salted peanuts, icees, fish pies etc. The list goes on and I think the most interesting thing is the intricacy of the dishes. It is way more than what a twelve year old in the US could produce. Beyond these things the women here will also sell "small things" for making lunch like salt, pepper, Jumbo (a MSG seasoning cube), tomato paste, oil etc. But for all their entrepreneurial ambitions its rare for them to have any sense of making a profit, inputs and outputs. Today when Mbayang was making "naan mbourou" she asked me to loan her D20. I asked her how much she thought she would make and she wasn't sure she would even make back the D20 she wanted me to loan her. I ended up loaning her D10 and total she spent D40 to produce the 41 bags that she sells for D1--so she is going to make one dalasi in profit. Even though shes an intelligent girl she could not really understand that she needed to come up with a way to get a greater return for her efforts. This makes me wonder if the illiterate women who sell "small small things" for making lunch ever make any money or if their just recycling their inputs over and over again without any personal gain.
Monday, March 8, 2010
"Hostess With the Mostest"....Gambian Style
Written on February 14th, 2010
Lately here I've been going to a lot of naming ceremonies (ngente). A week after a baby is born here the family has a huge celebration--inviting the entire village and extended family--to eat a lot of food and celebrate the babies birth. The baby goes through a ceremony where the head is shaved, prayers are said and the babies name is announce. Ngente can be a fun experience but it can also be exhausting. There's a lot of waiting around for things to happen, being force fed and more waiting around as people chatter at me in Wolof, half of which I understand and half of which goes right over my head. Ngente is really interesting however for what it reveals about Gambian "host" culture. From what I've observed in my short time here it is in many ways considered the ultimate in politeness to give your honored guests extreme privacy. For example yesterday my Peace Corps Wolof teacher Gibril had an ngente, he invited all of his students to come. His village is only about 15 kilometers from mine so it was really easy for me to get there but some of the other people in my group came from 2 or 3 hours away. In America if I had a guest come from that far away I would be eager to have them involved and in the middle of the party. Gibril however brought us to the ceremony, quickly showed us the baby and then whisked us away to a compound half way across the vilage where we drank attaya, had lunch and "relaxed" for five hours. By six we were sick of sitting around so we took it upon ourselves to head back to the ngente much to the dismay of the creepy guy "minding" us wo wanted us to wait, wait, wait for Gibril to come for us and while were at it drink more attaya. This isn't the only time that I've been "segregated" as a way to show me respect and sensitivity. Recently I went to my toma (a fellow Ramatoulie's) house to help her cook lunch and when it was time to eat she made me take my personal food bowl inside to her rooom to eat while everyone else sat outside--needless to say it is definitly a cultural element I am getting used to. These situations more than anything also make me wonder if Gambians wouldn't see Americans as bad hosts?
Lately here I've been going to a lot of naming ceremonies (ngente). A week after a baby is born here the family has a huge celebration--inviting the entire village and extended family--to eat a lot of food and celebrate the babies birth. The baby goes through a ceremony where the head is shaved, prayers are said and the babies name is announce. Ngente can be a fun experience but it can also be exhausting. There's a lot of waiting around for things to happen, being force fed and more waiting around as people chatter at me in Wolof, half of which I understand and half of which goes right over my head. Ngente is really interesting however for what it reveals about Gambian "host" culture. From what I've observed in my short time here it is in many ways considered the ultimate in politeness to give your honored guests extreme privacy. For example yesterday my Peace Corps Wolof teacher Gibril had an ngente, he invited all of his students to come. His village is only about 15 kilometers from mine so it was really easy for me to get there but some of the other people in my group came from 2 or 3 hours away. In America if I had a guest come from that far away I would be eager to have them involved and in the middle of the party. Gibril however brought us to the ceremony, quickly showed us the baby and then whisked us away to a compound half way across the vilage where we drank attaya, had lunch and "relaxed" for five hours. By six we were sick of sitting around so we took it upon ourselves to head back to the ngente much to the dismay of the creepy guy "minding" us wo wanted us to wait, wait, wait for Gibril to come for us and while were at it drink more attaya. This isn't the only time that I've been "segregated" as a way to show me respect and sensitivity. Recently I went to my toma (a fellow Ramatoulie's) house to help her cook lunch and when it was time to eat she made me take my personal food bowl inside to her rooom to eat while everyone else sat outside--needless to say it is definitly a cultural element I am getting used to. These situations more than anything also make me wonder if Gambians wouldn't see Americans as bad hosts?
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