Written on September 10th, 2010
Yesterday as I was taking my bucket bath I was listening to the BBC and a discussion program where they were talking about a small church in the US which is planning on burning the Koran this weekend to mark the anniversary of September 11th. The timing of this outrageous act of insensitivity is ironic because yesterday was the last day of the Muslim lunar month of fasting, Ramadan and today is Koriteh, or Eid al Fitar, which is the day long celebration of the end of Ramadan. It made me feel sad that people from my country would feel entitled to completely disrespect all Muslims around the world so heinously because of the horrible actions of a few extremists.
I also found myself reflecting on my Ramadan experience and what it has taught me about Islam. I was gone for the first two and a half weeks of Ramadan but when I got back from vacation in Cape Verde I found KJJ to be very different from when I left it. During the month of Ramadan the entire adult population of KJJ (above the age of 12-13) fasts from before sunrise at about 5:30 am to sunset at about 7:30 pm. During this period they don't eat or drink and they even try not to swallow their saliva--this results in spitting everywhere, health concerns abound but that's a blog for another day. Pregnant women, kids, chronically ill and the very old are allowed to abstain from fasting. Women don't have to fast when they have their period and if you're sick you can take a day off but you have to make the days missed up later after the month is over. Ramadan is very physically taxing and all of the adults in my compound have noticeably lost weight.
For some reason however Ramadan also imparted a vacation like atmosphere on my village. Since the only people eating lunch are the kids they just have left overs from the night before so without the burden of cooking lunch women's work loads are seriously diminished. This meant alot more time to sit around in the shade chatting and relaxing. Also napping during the day became even ore acceptable than usual.
What I enjoyed most about Ramadan was the meals I shared with my family at the beginning and end of the day. At 5 am I would be awoken by the sound of one of my moms or Ndene, my host brother, knocking on my door, "Toulie, Toulie kaay nu xeda." (Toulie, Toulie come eat the break fast) Stumbling out into the early dawn you could still see stars and it was always a little chilly, the six of us would huddle around the food bowl in an early morning daze. Few words were exchanged except the morning greetings and prayers for a successful day. It's hard to put into words why this time was so special but perhaps the best way to describe it is that it was a simple family moment and it was nice to be a part of it. After this very early morning breakfast I would open my windows and fall back into bed sleeping easily until 9--a very large feat here. The day would proceed from there pretty uneventfully: greetings, visiting and exclaiming how difficult fasting is. The day would begin to wind down at around 5:30 or 6 as everyone was so tired and hungry/thirsty they couldn't do much of anything. At around 7 pm we would all slowly gather in the middle of the compound collectively waiting for the sunset and mosques call to prayer signaling that we could eat and drink. To break fast we would eat bread and drink cups of hot sweet tea made from leaves found in the bush. About an hour later dinner would be served and we would all eat until the bowl was licked clean and fall into bed exhausted by the prospect of doing it all again tomorrow. (Maybe that was just me)
Last night we waited to break fast with more anticipation because it was the last day of fasting. The end of Ramadan is marked when you can see the sliver of the new moon. For some villages they wait for the imam to actually see it, so if the night is cloudy for example and you can't see the moon you keep fasting. Some places just accept that if someone somewhere, even in Guinea Bissau or Mali, sees it then Ramadan is over. Last night however we could all see the sliver of the moon clearly so today we party.
This morning we ate breakfast at 9:30!! and since then Yaay Sarjo, Mbayang and I have been cooking sauce (potatoes fried with goat meat, onion, pepper, garlic, mustard and Maggi) for lunch. My compound and the two neighboring compounds will all come together to eat lunch--kind of like a Gambian Thanksgiving. Therefore each compound cooks as much sauce as they can and it all gets put together so in the end everyone has enough to eat. Its 3:30 pm and its raining so lunch will probably still be a while--if this had been yesterday during Ramadan I would be fin but now knowing that lunch is there, cooking, almost ready to be eaten I am about to eat my own arm. But I know that in the end the waiting will make lunch taste that much better and as I've learned about Islam in the Gambia through this experience of Ramadan, it is the collective experience and sharing that makes this place so special. In conclusion, don't burn the Koran, just like everything else we can learn a lot from it if we take sometime to listen and understand.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Cape Verde: Escape from the Open Monestary
Written at the end of August 2010
It dawned on me at the beginning of August that I had been in the Gambia for almost ten straight months. Time seems to have flown by as I adjust and settle in to life here but at the same time ten months straight in the Gambia....is well...ten months in the Gambia and needless to say I was very happy that Fern and I had had the foresight in June to plan a week long vacation to Cape Verde--a small country made up of a group of islands in the Atlantic off the coast of Senegal. Now first of all, I have to clarify our use of the word plan because it helps explain a lot of our trip; by plan I mean we bought plane tickets and took vacation days. I guess we figured if we could figure out Gambia a week in Cape Verde couldn't be that difficult.
And it wasn't--far from it actually--CV was everything we were looking for in a vacation destination even if we didn't know it. Beautiful, relaxing and completely different from the Gambia.
We flew from Dakar to the capital Praia (on the island of Santiago) on Tuesday August 17th. We got in in the early evening and took a cab (like an American cab with all the windows and doors working and AC!) to a budget hotel from Lonely Planet (a book that would save our butts many a time). Once settled in we set off for our first CV dinner at a restaurant that we would find out later was ridiculously overpriced. But it was our first night and we reveled in it--drinking a bottle of crisp CV white wine from the island of Fogo and listening to a traditional music performance. The next morning we were up early, actually an hour earlier than we needed to be because we didn't realize there was a time change between CV and Senegal, and at the airport to catch a flight to the island of Sao Vincente to visit the city of Mindelo. Our early time at the airport allowed us to rediscover a love of vending machines that we never knew we had.
Once in Mindelo we spent the next four days losing ourselves in its winding cobblestone streets, parks and pastel colored houses. We probably walked every street in the city enjoying the intermingling of colonial and modern buildings. The hotel we stayed at was right up the hill from the public beach so we were able to spend our afternoon lying in the sand, splashing in the waves and respectfully admiring all the Cape Verdians who were also enjoying a day at the beach. That was one thing that particularly struck me in CV was the amount of leisure time people had. One night after an amazing dinner of pizza piled with ham and pepperoni we stopped in a park to enjoy our post-dinner ice cream cones. While there we got to observe Mindelo's hoping nightlife which seemed to consist of walking around the park and/or watching people walk around the park. The teenagers were all dressed in their best outfits and walked and chatted in groups of three or four. Younger kids rode scooters or chased each other around and older women and men sat on the benches talking and no doubt gossiping about the scene. It was very refreshing to see after coming from somewhere where people, especially women, basically work from the time they get up to when they go to bed.
This outward display of enjoyment and relaxation emboldened us to truly embrace these virtues as well. We drank bottle of red wine at lunch, ate pizza, salami, cheese and crackers. We stopped in little bakerys to buy cakes. I spent a few hours one night eating a succulent grilled lobster. But more than anything else in Mindelo we had ice cream and coffee. The pursuit of these two things became a bit of a singular obsession. Once we got to know the city we would go on walks but really we would take walks between different ice cream locations. The ice cream truck at the beach came to recognize us and in one day alone we had probably six ice cream cones (in our defense however the cones are small one or two scoops--like gelatto). Hand in hand with our pursuit of ice cream was the pursuit of coffee particularly espresso in the form of cafe au lait but realistically anything that wasn't instant NesCafe. The best coffee we had in Mindelo was at a seedy-ish bar/cafe with Avril Lavigne posters on the wall across from the bright pink municipal palace. It was rich and creamy, so good that we had two--except two of these coffees on an empty stomach turned out to have the same effect as perhaps vodka shots and we left feeling giddy and a little intoxicated--but maybe it was just because Mindelo was so beautiful.
Our initial reason for traveling to Mindelo was not however the prospect of ice cream or coffee but the annual 3-day Baia des Gates (Bay of Cats) music festival. Friday the 20th was Fern's birthday and also the first day of the festival. We got up that morning eager to see what a CV music festival would be like--by 10:30 we were flying out of Mindelo on a public transport mini bus (aluguer) that took us over barren hills and on windy two land cobblestone roads to the Bay of Cats, "Baia". Turns out a CV event is very much like any event in the Gambia. When we arrived there at 11 it was very clear that nothing was starting until much much later (the stage was only 1/2 assembled). So we admired the bay--shallow turquoise water edged by black volcanic looking rocks which broke the waves off the shore, all with the backdrop of soaring black and brown hills. So after wandering around a bit and wading in the bay we headed back to Mindelo and amused ourselves with ice cream and wine until that evening when we headed back. Baia was transformed by 5 pm! Beautiful, eerie CV music was blasting from a band onstage, tents were pitched all along the shore and the entire area was ringed with stalls selling beer, grilled meat and even ice cream. We reveled in the fun concert atmosphere making friends with the Senegalese selling crafts and speaking to them in Wolof/Pulaar, dancing with a young CV man named Allen who danced like Michael Jackson, glove and everything, at a club stall called Delirious and eating all kinds of grilled meat. We listened to three concerts and by 2 am were so tired and full of beer and meat that we drowsily made our way back to Mindelo and fell into bed.
By the next evening (Saturday) we were back on the island of Santiago in Praia and up bright and early on Sunday to make our way to Tarrafal, a small town with a beautiful white sand beach 70 km from Praia on the other side of Santiago. To get there we took an aluguer which snaked its way all along the coast. It was breathtaking driving through the green hills and valleys, stopping in small towns with markets in the cobblestone squares. The smaller villages featured houses clustered around the road with their backyards opening out into nothing as the hill abruptly slopped down. Once we got to Tarrafal we knew we wanted to spend the rest of our trip there. Our reasonably priced hotel was right on the beach and the day we showed up happened to be the day of a hip hop festival so dance music was pumping out over the speakers was beautiful CV men and women, young and old walked along the beach chatting, swimming and dancing. Fern and I sat back mostly in awe. Donuts, chicken skewers, meat sandwiches, fruit and beer abounded and reveled in the bounty. Monday morning however brought a transformed, empty beach as all the beautiful Cape Verdians went back to life and work and we were left with a pristine white beach on which to lie in the sun, eat torta and read trashy books. We had been attracted to Tarrafal because the Lonely Planet claimed it had a fire grilled pizzeria and on our last night said restaurant did not disappoint. Tuesday morning we bid Tarrafal goodbye and headed back to Praia where we spent our last day getting our fill of wandering down cobblestone streets, shopping in Chinese shops (which we found everywhere--full of cheap clothes, jewelry and makeup) and eating donuts and ice cream. Wednesday morning (August 25th) we were once again at the airport to early and after a four hour delay found ourselves leaving Cape Verde behind and headed back to our homes--mud huts in the middle of Gambia. We both agreed that the vacation was just what we needed. Getting a little reacquainted with semi-civilization was refreshing but in the end I just wanted to get back to my village, get back to work, get back to my family and friends and get back to speaking Wolof. And in the end isn't the best part of vacation the fact that it refreshes you and reinvigorates you to go back home. So for that I would like to thank Cape Verde: its beautiful beaches, hills, people and ice cream.
It dawned on me at the beginning of August that I had been in the Gambia for almost ten straight months. Time seems to have flown by as I adjust and settle in to life here but at the same time ten months straight in the Gambia....is well...ten months in the Gambia and needless to say I was very happy that Fern and I had had the foresight in June to plan a week long vacation to Cape Verde--a small country made up of a group of islands in the Atlantic off the coast of Senegal. Now first of all, I have to clarify our use of the word plan because it helps explain a lot of our trip; by plan I mean we bought plane tickets and took vacation days. I guess we figured if we could figure out Gambia a week in Cape Verde couldn't be that difficult.
And it wasn't--far from it actually--CV was everything we were looking for in a vacation destination even if we didn't know it. Beautiful, relaxing and completely different from the Gambia.
We flew from Dakar to the capital Praia (on the island of Santiago) on Tuesday August 17th. We got in in the early evening and took a cab (like an American cab with all the windows and doors working and AC!) to a budget hotel from Lonely Planet (a book that would save our butts many a time). Once settled in we set off for our first CV dinner at a restaurant that we would find out later was ridiculously overpriced. But it was our first night and we reveled in it--drinking a bottle of crisp CV white wine from the island of Fogo and listening to a traditional music performance. The next morning we were up early, actually an hour earlier than we needed to be because we didn't realize there was a time change between CV and Senegal, and at the airport to catch a flight to the island of Sao Vincente to visit the city of Mindelo. Our early time at the airport allowed us to rediscover a love of vending machines that we never knew we had.
Once in Mindelo we spent the next four days losing ourselves in its winding cobblestone streets, parks and pastel colored houses. We probably walked every street in the city enjoying the intermingling of colonial and modern buildings. The hotel we stayed at was right up the hill from the public beach so we were able to spend our afternoon lying in the sand, splashing in the waves and respectfully admiring all the Cape Verdians who were also enjoying a day at the beach. That was one thing that particularly struck me in CV was the amount of leisure time people had. One night after an amazing dinner of pizza piled with ham and pepperoni we stopped in a park to enjoy our post-dinner ice cream cones. While there we got to observe Mindelo's hoping nightlife which seemed to consist of walking around the park and/or watching people walk around the park. The teenagers were all dressed in their best outfits and walked and chatted in groups of three or four. Younger kids rode scooters or chased each other around and older women and men sat on the benches talking and no doubt gossiping about the scene. It was very refreshing to see after coming from somewhere where people, especially women, basically work from the time they get up to when they go to bed.
This outward display of enjoyment and relaxation emboldened us to truly embrace these virtues as well. We drank bottle of red wine at lunch, ate pizza, salami, cheese and crackers. We stopped in little bakerys to buy cakes. I spent a few hours one night eating a succulent grilled lobster. But more than anything else in Mindelo we had ice cream and coffee. The pursuit of these two things became a bit of a singular obsession. Once we got to know the city we would go on walks but really we would take walks between different ice cream locations. The ice cream truck at the beach came to recognize us and in one day alone we had probably six ice cream cones (in our defense however the cones are small one or two scoops--like gelatto). Hand in hand with our pursuit of ice cream was the pursuit of coffee particularly espresso in the form of cafe au lait but realistically anything that wasn't instant NesCafe. The best coffee we had in Mindelo was at a seedy-ish bar/cafe with Avril Lavigne posters on the wall across from the bright pink municipal palace. It was rich and creamy, so good that we had two--except two of these coffees on an empty stomach turned out to have the same effect as perhaps vodka shots and we left feeling giddy and a little intoxicated--but maybe it was just because Mindelo was so beautiful.
Our initial reason for traveling to Mindelo was not however the prospect of ice cream or coffee but the annual 3-day Baia des Gates (Bay of Cats) music festival. Friday the 20th was Fern's birthday and also the first day of the festival. We got up that morning eager to see what a CV music festival would be like--by 10:30 we were flying out of Mindelo on a public transport mini bus (aluguer) that took us over barren hills and on windy two land cobblestone roads to the Bay of Cats, "Baia". Turns out a CV event is very much like any event in the Gambia. When we arrived there at 11 it was very clear that nothing was starting until much much later (the stage was only 1/2 assembled). So we admired the bay--shallow turquoise water edged by black volcanic looking rocks which broke the waves off the shore, all with the backdrop of soaring black and brown hills. So after wandering around a bit and wading in the bay we headed back to Mindelo and amused ourselves with ice cream and wine until that evening when we headed back. Baia was transformed by 5 pm! Beautiful, eerie CV music was blasting from a band onstage, tents were pitched all along the shore and the entire area was ringed with stalls selling beer, grilled meat and even ice cream. We reveled in the fun concert atmosphere making friends with the Senegalese selling crafts and speaking to them in Wolof/Pulaar, dancing with a young CV man named Allen who danced like Michael Jackson, glove and everything, at a club stall called Delirious and eating all kinds of grilled meat. We listened to three concerts and by 2 am were so tired and full of beer and meat that we drowsily made our way back to Mindelo and fell into bed.
By the next evening (Saturday) we were back on the island of Santiago in Praia and up bright and early on Sunday to make our way to Tarrafal, a small town with a beautiful white sand beach 70 km from Praia on the other side of Santiago. To get there we took an aluguer which snaked its way all along the coast. It was breathtaking driving through the green hills and valleys, stopping in small towns with markets in the cobblestone squares. The smaller villages featured houses clustered around the road with their backyards opening out into nothing as the hill abruptly slopped down. Once we got to Tarrafal we knew we wanted to spend the rest of our trip there. Our reasonably priced hotel was right on the beach and the day we showed up happened to be the day of a hip hop festival so dance music was pumping out over the speakers was beautiful CV men and women, young and old walked along the beach chatting, swimming and dancing. Fern and I sat back mostly in awe. Donuts, chicken skewers, meat sandwiches, fruit and beer abounded and reveled in the bounty. Monday morning however brought a transformed, empty beach as all the beautiful Cape Verdians went back to life and work and we were left with a pristine white beach on which to lie in the sun, eat torta and read trashy books. We had been attracted to Tarrafal because the Lonely Planet claimed it had a fire grilled pizzeria and on our last night said restaurant did not disappoint. Tuesday morning we bid Tarrafal goodbye and headed back to Praia where we spent our last day getting our fill of wandering down cobblestone streets, shopping in Chinese shops (which we found everywhere--full of cheap clothes, jewelry and makeup) and eating donuts and ice cream. Wednesday morning (August 25th) we were once again at the airport to early and after a four hour delay found ourselves leaving Cape Verde behind and headed back to our homes--mud huts in the middle of Gambia. We both agreed that the vacation was just what we needed. Getting a little reacquainted with semi-civilization was refreshing but in the end I just wanted to get back to my village, get back to work, get back to my family and friends and get back to speaking Wolof. And in the end isn't the best part of vacation the fact that it refreshes you and reinvigorates you to go back home. So for that I would like to thank Cape Verde: its beautiful beaches, hills, people and ice cream.
Sunday, September 5, 2010
"Chum-On": Cape Verde (86 photos), by Lindsey Green
I'd like to share my Snapfish photos with you. Once you have checked out my photos you can order prints and upload your own photos to share.
Click here to view photos
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