Written on December 29th, 2011
Last week, on Friday December 23rd, I got into a Peace Corps car and left Kerr Jarga Jobe for the last time. I left behind my family, friends and the happy life I had built there over the past two years and now I'm here, facing the future and (of course) reflecting.
Goodbyes are always difficult. Goodbyes in The Gambia (for me) are made much more difficult by the fact that people very very rarely cry here. I on the other hand have crying as my default setting in most emotionally overwhelming situations so I knew that this fact alone would make the goodbyes here even more challenging. But really, in the weeks leading up to my departure I had very little idea of what to expect and this made the whole time very challenging and overwhelming.
Peace Corps talked to us a lot about planning our goodbyes. So I of course had a list of people to call, a list of people to visit, a list of compounds where I wanted to go and drink attaya one last time and a list of final lunch spots in Kerr Jarga to visit. But of course, when the time came my lists were only nominally helpful, because I found for me that the best course of action was to wake up every morning and ask myself, "What can I do today to find closure?" So I walked around a lot, spent hours lying on my toma's bed, played with the kids, and helped my host moms cook lunch. Some days I didn't feel like I wasn't doing anything or I would worry that I wasn't doing enough to say goodbye and have closure, that I would have regrets about the way I left Kerr Jarga; but I realized that I couldn't let doubts and "what ifs" paralyze my last days in village so I needed to just live in the moment and focus on the present.
My perfectly planned and orchestrated goodbye was completely destroyed (in an amazing way) on the morning of Friday, December 16th. It was like any other morning really, I was puttering around my house, making my bed, drinking tea, listening to the BBC, when suddenly my host fathers face appears in my window.
Baay Waly: "Ramatoulie, Ramatoulie, Ramatoulie" (urgently)
Me: "What?!!? What's going on?"
BW: "Yaay Sarjo (my second host mom who I have known is pregnant since August) had a baby."
Me: "WHAT?!?!? When?"
BW: "Just now."
Me: "BOY OR GIRL, BOY OR GIRL???"
BW: "Girl."
Me: "AHHHHH HOLD ON I'M COMING OUT."
BW: "Ok, may Allah grant her long life."
I busted out of my house only to be met by my first host mom, Yaay Amie, with a mischievous grin on her face. "Ramatoulie, Yaay Sarjo had a baby....its a boy." To which I replied, "Yaay Amie do you not know the difference between men and women?"
To explain my level of excitement and my families level of teasing when I found out Yaay Sarjo was pregnant I really wanted her to have a girl so I could finally have a toma (namesake). I joked with her about eating good food and staying healthy for my toma and in my last weeks in village had been telling her to hurry up and have the baby before I left village. So she had done it, right down to the wire, but she gave birth to my toma exactly a week before I was to leave Kerr Jarga. This was incredibly convenient timing because here the tradition is to wait a week after the child's birth before you give them a name. Meaning that my toma, Ramatoulie, would be given her name on the day that I left Kerr Jarga for good.
I couldn't think of a more beautiful way to end things here, by leaving behind a Ramatoulie Joof to continue to be a part of the family and community. What perfect symmetry, to leave behind the ultimate reminder of my love for this family and village; I hope as Ramatoulie grows up she feels the same love and support that I have felt in my compound and community. Of course the coming of my toma made saying goodbye all the more difficult. What an honor that my host father and mothers love and respect me enough to give one of their children my name. And, as I made the joke often, now the compound will never be missing Ramatoulie because even when I'm gone my toma will always be there.
My last few days in village were a whirlwind. Many programs and meetings held in my honor to thank me. Many gifts given, many of which will not make it back to America because of their sheer ugliness. Many tears (on my part), prayers and thank yous. On my last night I spent one final time lying out on a mat under the stars, looking up at the sky and contemplating the beauty of a world where I can be Lindsey Green and Ramatoulie Joof at the same time and feel completely comfortable, loved and accepted as both people. I couldn't bear the thought of being away from my family for even a minute so my two teenage host sisters, Menghe and Mberry, slept over in my house on the final night. We slept in a sweaty pile of sisterly love.
Friday morning brought the naming ceremony. The men of the village came to sit in our compound and pray while one man shaved the hair off the babies head, prayed for the baby and gave it a name. Her name, of course, was Ramatoulie. The whole compound had the same mood, equally ecstatic and sad because as we celebrated my toma's entrance into the world we all kept listening for the sound of the Peace Corps car pulling up. I did pretty well as far as crying in front of everyone was concerned but there were many quick trips to my back yard pit latrine to shed a few tears in private. Yet, when the car finally came, it was like a whirlwind, people stormed into my house, grabbed all my stuff, and within five minutes the car was packed and I was standing, staring at the dirt wondering how I got to this place and how I could possibly get in the car. Of course, the Lindsey reaction to this moment of decision was to start balling. My host father looked at me, looked at my host moms and siblings who at this point were all crying and yelled, "STOP CRYING." Which just made me and everyone else cry more. But it was time to just take that leap and leave, so I did the very un-Gambian thing of hugging my moms. Squeezing my little buddy Alieu. And then I remembered my cultural sensitivity so I said goodbye to Mam Goor, my two year old who I've known basically since he was born, by picking him up, licking his right palm and blowing in his right eye. (All strategies told to me by old ladies to prevent his grief over my leaving from making him sick). So even at my most intense and emotional there is always some weird cultural experience to be had.
And that was it, I was in the car and I was gone. It was incredibly strange but I felt liberated and ready to move on to the next thing. I feel sad when I remember saying goodbye but ultimately I feel complete satisfaction with my time in Kerr Jarga and I know I will take those people and memories with me no matter where my next steps take me. Hopefully my time spent in Kerr Jarga has made me more honest, compassionate, thoughtful and connected to the world and my place in it and I only hope I can make all of them proud. Especially my namesake, "small" Ramatoulie.
Thursday, December 29, 2011
A Thoughtful Tobaski
Written on November 7th, 2011
Another year and another Tobaski in the Gambia. Since it's the last I ultimately find myself thinking back to the first Tobaski in Sare Samba (my training village). Then I wasn't even one month in the Gambia and I'm fairly certain I had absolutely no idea what to expect from my time here, I didn't even know the name "Kerr Jarga" and it certainly wasn't a part of me as it is now.
I recently reread a letter my dad sent me on the 10th anniversary of September 11th. I was struck by how he described all of the energy put into Islamaphobia and fear since 9/11 as a "horrible waste." This is made crystal clear to me on a day like today. Just as we gather to feast and count our blessings on Thanksgiving, my Muslim friends and family pause today to give thanks, ask for forgiveness and pray that the coming year will bring as many blessings as the last--if not more. How selfish of us as Americans, how heartless for us to demonize a religion that holds so many of the same values as us. How self-centered and self righteous are we to believe that an entire group of people devote their lives to hating us and wishing for our destruction when it really couldn't be any farther from the truth. The people I have met--not just met--the people I know here in my heart and soul spend their days just like everyone else; thinking about their families, putting food on the table (actually, in the food bowl) and working hard to find a little security. Just as we are reluctant to generalize Christians we should check ourselves and be reluctant to generalize Muslims. My Gambian friends and family only share one similarity with those we deem to be Muslim fundamentalists--they pray to the same God, Allah--but I think we all know that's where the similarity ends.
On this last Tobaski I am reminded of how much is lost when we generalize about anything, Islam, Africa, Peace Corps, Kerr Jarga Jobe. Every thing, person, day and moment is different and unique. If we can appreciate this and revel in it then we are able to find not only peace but much greater understanding. I still struggle with this but in my time here I've realized that when I start to generalize I close off not just my options but myself.
Another year and another Tobaski in the Gambia. Since it's the last I ultimately find myself thinking back to the first Tobaski in Sare Samba (my training village). Then I wasn't even one month in the Gambia and I'm fairly certain I had absolutely no idea what to expect from my time here, I didn't even know the name "Kerr Jarga" and it certainly wasn't a part of me as it is now.
I recently reread a letter my dad sent me on the 10th anniversary of September 11th. I was struck by how he described all of the energy put into Islamaphobia and fear since 9/11 as a "horrible waste." This is made crystal clear to me on a day like today. Just as we gather to feast and count our blessings on Thanksgiving, my Muslim friends and family pause today to give thanks, ask for forgiveness and pray that the coming year will bring as many blessings as the last--if not more. How selfish of us as Americans, how heartless for us to demonize a religion that holds so many of the same values as us. How self-centered and self righteous are we to believe that an entire group of people devote their lives to hating us and wishing for our destruction when it really couldn't be any farther from the truth. The people I have met--not just met--the people I know here in my heart and soul spend their days just like everyone else; thinking about their families, putting food on the table (actually, in the food bowl) and working hard to find a little security. Just as we are reluctant to generalize Christians we should check ourselves and be reluctant to generalize Muslims. My Gambian friends and family only share one similarity with those we deem to be Muslim fundamentalists--they pray to the same God, Allah--but I think we all know that's where the similarity ends.
On this last Tobaski I am reminded of how much is lost when we generalize about anything, Islam, Africa, Peace Corps, Kerr Jarga Jobe. Every thing, person, day and moment is different and unique. If we can appreciate this and revel in it then we are able to find not only peace but much greater understanding. I still struggle with this but in my time here I've realized that when I start to generalize I close off not just my options but myself.
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
Caught Up In It All
Written on November 3rd, 2011
I haven't written a blog in a very long time, more accurately I haven't written at all--few journals, no letters and only one poem--I would attribute it to a spectacular and unique case of writer's block. It's not that nothing has happened--in fact--everything has happened and as I go through it all I haven't felt the urge to sit down and write about it. Just as you don't blog about every successful meeting at work or funny Friday night out with friends, my level of comfort here is such that I don't necessarily feel like my daily activities are triumphs worthy of a written record. I feel in fact that my sense of normalcy in my life and work is a great sign of my success here as a Peace Corps volunteer. If you're going to be a great volunteer at some point you need to get so caught up in it all that nothing and everything is remarkable at the same time.
Our Country Director, Cornish, recently sent us this poem which is think is a very accurate reflection of this evolution.
It is a progression of connection…
at first, you are in your head and it’s
American, meets other.
Then you get more grounded, and
volunteer, meets villager or teacher, meets student.
And then, if you are lucky, the simplicity settles in, and it’s
human meets human,
heart to heart.
--Meleia Egger, RPCV Malawi 2008-2010
So though I've been floating around in my Gambian bubble I have in fact been busy.
Vacation in Guinea-Conakry
I escaped the end of a steamy Ramadan and found myself in the Fouta Djalon region of Guinea-Conakry breathing the mountain air and taking in the breathtaking views, blue mountain sky and swimming in crystal waterfalls. I went with six other volunteers, including my good friends Brian and Erica. We hiked for six days, squeezed into tiny cars, ate new and different street food, swung in hammocks, played charades, told life stories, discovered markets, met a missionary, went on a picnic with her, danced at a night club with middle schoolers and bumped along the worst road ever. It was a joyous adventure in a place I probably would never have seen otherwise. It got me ready to go home to the Gambia but also got me excited for travelling after Peace Corps.
Camp GAGA
A group of female PCVs worked together to organize and run a week long environmental awareness and leadership camp for 30 middle school girls and five teachers. I chaperoned two girls from my school, Hawa and Saffie, and co-taught a couple great lessons. Most notable was a lesson to explain population growth where we counted popcorn kernels into a jar to represent the worlds population growth over time to today's figure of 7 billion. It was inspiring to see the girls making the connection between the global community and the implications of population growth for themselves and their families in the Gambia.
The week was long and tiring but it was very special to be able to give the girls an opportunity to sing, dance, laugh, play and be kids without all the adult responsibilities they usually have at home.
The Fatou Show
This year is the 50th anniversary of Peace Corps globally and the 45th anniversary of Peace Corps in The Gambia. PCTG has decided to bombard the Gambian population with media to remind them of our presence here and what the heck we are doing here. The first part of this media campaign was for Peace Corps to appear on the "Fatou Show," a Gambian version of Oprah. At the end of September many PCVs and staff went over to the studio for the live taping where we spoke in local language, danced and some PCVs admitted to having Gambian significant others. Of course the Gambian-ness of the show was not lost on us as the power went out halfway through the show and we waited in the dark for a few minutes until the generator was turned on.
COS Conference
We all know that the end is near so in the beginning of October my group had our COS conference which is a chance for PC to give us information about what we need to do to wrap things up before we leave and we get a chance to work on our resumes and start a job search. Eek!!I think though we came out of COS conference with good information and advice the economy and job market in America is just plain scary right now and it is going to be difficult. Aside from all the scary future planning stuff we organized many different fun social events, the finale of which was the Gambian Prom. We rented out a nice restaurant in Senegambia for the night--had a delicious Mexican buffet. Each person in our group toasted a different person in the group and it was very touching how everyone had such nice and genuine things to say about each other. The night ended with a group slow dance--really cheesy and beautiful! It is rare to be part of a group of people who show such mutual love and respect to each other and it has been such a treat to spend the last two years working with this group of people. It is so wonderful to say that not only have I come to love and respect my Gambian community members but I feel the same way about my PC colleagues. Coming back to America is going to be hard (don't even ask about my very poor grasp of how to speak proper English) but I feel very lucky knowing that I'm rejoining life in America with such a great support system of fellow returning volunteers.
Bike Trek
In my first year of service the HIV Bike Trek stands out as one of the best projects I did and the point at which I really hit my stride as a PCV. In July we all started talking about doing it all again, using our experience from 2010 to hopefully make the project more successful. So we expanded the Bike Trek from a one day to two day curriculum. Myself and Kelsey, another health volunteer, were selected to write a curriculum for Day 2 focusing on life skills and speaking out. We worked together for a few months drawing from our experiences teaching life skills here to write a lesson that we hoped would empower students to speak up and share what they've learned about HIV. If I do say so myself its a really strong lesson and we were very excited to see it taught on the bike trek. For the 2011 Bike Trek we had chosen to bike from Bansang to Basse and Suduwol to Basse in the CRR and URR, teaching at two schools on each leg of the trek for a total of four schools and about 700 students. But.....as always here.....the best laid plans are often not to be, and this was just another example because a week before the trek was supposed to start the President of the Gambia invited us to dinner smack in the middle of the Bike Trek (more on dinner with Jammeh later). So after a lot of shuffling we reworked the Bike Trek and taught four schools in two days. I was on team Badari in the URR and we spent four days and three nights sleeping in a classroom at Badari basic cycle school--fighting off bats and locking our door with pliers at night and working as a team during the day to educate about 120 students about HIV making sure to define sex, do a condom demonstration in front of thirteen year olds and generally being over the top. Due to the scheduling changes the Bike Trek didn't actually involve a lot of biking but it was still very powerful thinking about how many students we reached in two days and gave them information that they probably had never heard before. Just like the first time we did it, the Bike Trek for me serves as a great example of the power of PCVs working together, being creative and having a profound impact.
H.E.
Because this year is the 50th Anniversary for Peace Corps many PC countries have been having celebrations to mark the anniversary. For PCTG our celebration was marked by a very special invitation by the President of the Gambia; His Excellency (H.E.) Chiekh Professor Dr. Alhagie Yaya AJJ Jammeh, to a celebration of Peace Corps held at his rural residence in the village of Kanilai. On Thursday October 27th we all piled into buses at the Peace Corps Office in Kombo and health by police escort the one and a half hour drive to Kanilai. There we were served a feast for lunch after which we went to the parade grounds where we sat in the bandstand under ceiling fans and awaited the arrival of H.E. He roared in driving his Range Rover and then enjoyed a three hour program highlighting PCVs and their work in the Gambia. He was very kind, greeting each of us personally and even giving all of us a gift of clothing. The program ended at around 11:30 pm and we then went off to enjoy a delicious buffet meal. It was a great honor to be invited to Kanilai and now I can check meeting the president of a country off of my bucket list.
So there you have it. The remarkable and subsequently ordinary life of Ramatoulie.
I haven't written a blog in a very long time, more accurately I haven't written at all--few journals, no letters and only one poem--I would attribute it to a spectacular and unique case of writer's block. It's not that nothing has happened--in fact--everything has happened and as I go through it all I haven't felt the urge to sit down and write about it. Just as you don't blog about every successful meeting at work or funny Friday night out with friends, my level of comfort here is such that I don't necessarily feel like my daily activities are triumphs worthy of a written record. I feel in fact that my sense of normalcy in my life and work is a great sign of my success here as a Peace Corps volunteer. If you're going to be a great volunteer at some point you need to get so caught up in it all that nothing and everything is remarkable at the same time.
Our Country Director, Cornish, recently sent us this poem which is think is a very accurate reflection of this evolution.
It is a progression of connection…
at first, you are in your head and it’s
American, meets other.
Then you get more grounded, and
volunteer, meets villager or teacher, meets student.
And then, if you are lucky, the simplicity settles in, and it’s
human meets human,
heart to heart.
--Meleia Egger, RPCV Malawi 2008-2010
So though I've been floating around in my Gambian bubble I have in fact been busy.
Vacation in Guinea-Conakry
I escaped the end of a steamy Ramadan and found myself in the Fouta Djalon region of Guinea-Conakry breathing the mountain air and taking in the breathtaking views, blue mountain sky and swimming in crystal waterfalls. I went with six other volunteers, including my good friends Brian and Erica. We hiked for six days, squeezed into tiny cars, ate new and different street food, swung in hammocks, played charades, told life stories, discovered markets, met a missionary, went on a picnic with her, danced at a night club with middle schoolers and bumped along the worst road ever. It was a joyous adventure in a place I probably would never have seen otherwise. It got me ready to go home to the Gambia but also got me excited for travelling after Peace Corps.
Camp GAGA
A group of female PCVs worked together to organize and run a week long environmental awareness and leadership camp for 30 middle school girls and five teachers. I chaperoned two girls from my school, Hawa and Saffie, and co-taught a couple great lessons. Most notable was a lesson to explain population growth where we counted popcorn kernels into a jar to represent the worlds population growth over time to today's figure of 7 billion. It was inspiring to see the girls making the connection between the global community and the implications of population growth for themselves and their families in the Gambia.
The week was long and tiring but it was very special to be able to give the girls an opportunity to sing, dance, laugh, play and be kids without all the adult responsibilities they usually have at home.
The Fatou Show
This year is the 50th anniversary of Peace Corps globally and the 45th anniversary of Peace Corps in The Gambia. PCTG has decided to bombard the Gambian population with media to remind them of our presence here and what the heck we are doing here. The first part of this media campaign was for Peace Corps to appear on the "Fatou Show," a Gambian version of Oprah. At the end of September many PCVs and staff went over to the studio for the live taping where we spoke in local language, danced and some PCVs admitted to having Gambian significant others. Of course the Gambian-ness of the show was not lost on us as the power went out halfway through the show and we waited in the dark for a few minutes until the generator was turned on.
COS Conference
We all know that the end is near so in the beginning of October my group had our COS conference which is a chance for PC to give us information about what we need to do to wrap things up before we leave and we get a chance to work on our resumes and start a job search. Eek!!I think though we came out of COS conference with good information and advice the economy and job market in America is just plain scary right now and it is going to be difficult. Aside from all the scary future planning stuff we organized many different fun social events, the finale of which was the Gambian Prom. We rented out a nice restaurant in Senegambia for the night--had a delicious Mexican buffet. Each person in our group toasted a different person in the group and it was very touching how everyone had such nice and genuine things to say about each other. The night ended with a group slow dance--really cheesy and beautiful! It is rare to be part of a group of people who show such mutual love and respect to each other and it has been such a treat to spend the last two years working with this group of people. It is so wonderful to say that not only have I come to love and respect my Gambian community members but I feel the same way about my PC colleagues. Coming back to America is going to be hard (don't even ask about my very poor grasp of how to speak proper English) but I feel very lucky knowing that I'm rejoining life in America with such a great support system of fellow returning volunteers.
Bike Trek
In my first year of service the HIV Bike Trek stands out as one of the best projects I did and the point at which I really hit my stride as a PCV. In July we all started talking about doing it all again, using our experience from 2010 to hopefully make the project more successful. So we expanded the Bike Trek from a one day to two day curriculum. Myself and Kelsey, another health volunteer, were selected to write a curriculum for Day 2 focusing on life skills and speaking out. We worked together for a few months drawing from our experiences teaching life skills here to write a lesson that we hoped would empower students to speak up and share what they've learned about HIV. If I do say so myself its a really strong lesson and we were very excited to see it taught on the bike trek. For the 2011 Bike Trek we had chosen to bike from Bansang to Basse and Suduwol to Basse in the CRR and URR, teaching at two schools on each leg of the trek for a total of four schools and about 700 students. But.....as always here.....the best laid plans are often not to be, and this was just another example because a week before the trek was supposed to start the President of the Gambia invited us to dinner smack in the middle of the Bike Trek (more on dinner with Jammeh later). So after a lot of shuffling we reworked the Bike Trek and taught four schools in two days. I was on team Badari in the URR and we spent four days and three nights sleeping in a classroom at Badari basic cycle school--fighting off bats and locking our door with pliers at night and working as a team during the day to educate about 120 students about HIV making sure to define sex, do a condom demonstration in front of thirteen year olds and generally being over the top. Due to the scheduling changes the Bike Trek didn't actually involve a lot of biking but it was still very powerful thinking about how many students we reached in two days and gave them information that they probably had never heard before. Just like the first time we did it, the Bike Trek for me serves as a great example of the power of PCVs working together, being creative and having a profound impact.
H.E.
Because this year is the 50th Anniversary for Peace Corps many PC countries have been having celebrations to mark the anniversary. For PCTG our celebration was marked by a very special invitation by the President of the Gambia; His Excellency (H.E.) Chiekh Professor Dr. Alhagie Yaya AJJ Jammeh, to a celebration of Peace Corps held at his rural residence in the village of Kanilai. On Thursday October 27th we all piled into buses at the Peace Corps Office in Kombo and health by police escort the one and a half hour drive to Kanilai. There we were served a feast for lunch after which we went to the parade grounds where we sat in the bandstand under ceiling fans and awaited the arrival of H.E. He roared in driving his Range Rover and then enjoyed a three hour program highlighting PCVs and their work in the Gambia. He was very kind, greeting each of us personally and even giving all of us a gift of clothing. The program ended at around 11:30 pm and we then went off to enjoy a delicious buffet meal. It was a great honor to be invited to Kanilai and now I can check meeting the president of a country off of my bucket list.
So there you have it. The remarkable and subsequently ordinary life of Ramatoulie.
Saturday, August 20, 2011
Re-Blogging About Baby Mamas
A fellow volunteer posted some pictures of my Baby Mama's closing ceremony.
Check.It.Out
Friday, August 12, 2011
The End Involved Many Pans
Written on August 11th, 2011
Two weeks ago, on July 29th, I held the closing ceremony for my Yow Yaay Yaay (You are the Mother) health competition, fondly referred to by me as Baby Mamas. Since then a perpetual feature of my To Do list has been writing a blog entry about it but for some reason I have met this task with reluctance. The end of this project met me with a mix of emotions--joy, pride, elation, sadness, completion, achievement and finality. It seems to me that since the beginning of my service I had been thinking about this project--this health competition--I really wanted to do it but I wasn't quite sure how to do it or if I would be able to pull it off. It took many months of thinking, planning, chatting in village and personal reflection for me to come up with a plan and project proposal. From there I had to hope that the money would come and that all my planning would pay off. I had constant moments of frustration and doubt, when things didn't go as expected or counterparts didn't do what we had agreed they were going to do I definitely wondered why I was doing all of this. Luckily though in those times of doubt I was able to remind myself that this was a project I really wanted to do, a project that I was capable of doing and that the hiccups encountered along the way were to be expected when trying to do a project like this in The Gambia.
Somehow though it all came together. On May 13th we had the opening ceremony and the ball started rolling from there. Over the next three months myself and my counterpart, Papa Sam, were able to teach six health lessons--each lesson taught twice--for a total of twelve sessions. The turnout was amazing, 120 women enrolled and an average of 85 women attending each class. I often felt I needed to pinch myself to remind myself that it was actually happening and the pieces were really falling into place. We finished our last lesson in the nick of time at the beginning of July as the first rains started to come (making it so the women spend every spare moment in the fields).
After that I engaged in a flurry of activity in order to get everything set for the closing ceremony which needed to be held before Ramadan started at the beginning of August. Preparations included going to Banjul and dropping over D 7,000 (a fortune here--about $300) on prizes and then figuring out how to get them all back across the river and up to Kerr Jarga, a definite exercise in Gambia skillz, good thing I had a strong Gambian women along for the ride. Another day found me buying 25 kgs of flour, 30 eggs and 11 kgs of sugar in Barra. Set rental and invitation letters, I felt like I was preparing for a very large Gambian wedding. The night before the big day I was so excited I had trouble going to sleep. I woke up in the morning and had so effectively delegated all the program tasks that I didn't really have much to do. I was given the task of bagging chapati (doughnut holes) which meant I basically ate myself into a chapati stomachache.
By the time 3:30 rolled around (the program was supposed to start at 4 pm) myself and the 8 PCVs that had come to support me/witness the festivities made our way to the skills center to find all of the women already assembled (THEY WERE EARLY!!!!!!!!) in their fanciest clothes. That's when I knew this was a big deal. Of course even though the women were early the set was 2 hours late so we didn't start until closer to 6. Despite the late start the program really was everything I had hoped for and imagined. I don't think I'm exaggerating when I say it was a celebration of the women's achievements and what they had learned in the lessons. Unlike many Gambian programs it stayed focused on the women and not on the guests who had come for the free food. 15 women presented some amazing dramas about the lesson topics and after the dramas they all received certificates and prizes (soap, attaya, OMO, mosquito coils, fabric, bowls, kettles, buckets and pans). They all accepted their prizes graciously and the fear I had that people would complain about not all getting big prizes was unfounded. And then all of a sudden it was dark and all the women went home to cook dinner and Baby Mamas was over.
The next day I woke up happy and relieved and proud of the effective and successful project I had done. I'm not usually one to heap praise upon myself but in this case I pretty much kicked ass. I set this project as a goal for myself in my service and I actually achieved it which is not something all volunteers can say they have done. I achieved this by involving the community and I empowered a lot of women in my village to make better decisions about their health and the health of their families.
Coupled with all this joy and feeling of accomplishment is the realization that this is the beginning of the end. With five months left I realize I still have a way to go but having been at this for 21 months so far 5 months just doesn't seem like a ton. Now that I've finished Baby Mamas I know I'll leave here with the feeling that I accomplished something and was able to help in a small way but that realization goes hand in hand with the fact that I'm leaving and that this experience is coming to a close. Knowing that I'll be leaving a family I love dearly, friends from whom I draw constant inspiration and a country that has taught me so much I can't help but feel a little mournful. But when I feel sad I just think about all those women with their shiny new pans, buckets and knowledge and I can't help but smile.
Two weeks ago, on July 29th, I held the closing ceremony for my Yow Yaay Yaay (You are the Mother) health competition, fondly referred to by me as Baby Mamas. Since then a perpetual feature of my To Do list has been writing a blog entry about it but for some reason I have met this task with reluctance. The end of this project met me with a mix of emotions--joy, pride, elation, sadness, completion, achievement and finality. It seems to me that since the beginning of my service I had been thinking about this project--this health competition--I really wanted to do it but I wasn't quite sure how to do it or if I would be able to pull it off. It took many months of thinking, planning, chatting in village and personal reflection for me to come up with a plan and project proposal. From there I had to hope that the money would come and that all my planning would pay off. I had constant moments of frustration and doubt, when things didn't go as expected or counterparts didn't do what we had agreed they were going to do I definitely wondered why I was doing all of this. Luckily though in those times of doubt I was able to remind myself that this was a project I really wanted to do, a project that I was capable of doing and that the hiccups encountered along the way were to be expected when trying to do a project like this in The Gambia.
Somehow though it all came together. On May 13th we had the opening ceremony and the ball started rolling from there. Over the next three months myself and my counterpart, Papa Sam, were able to teach six health lessons--each lesson taught twice--for a total of twelve sessions. The turnout was amazing, 120 women enrolled and an average of 85 women attending each class. I often felt I needed to pinch myself to remind myself that it was actually happening and the pieces were really falling into place. We finished our last lesson in the nick of time at the beginning of July as the first rains started to come (making it so the women spend every spare moment in the fields).
After that I engaged in a flurry of activity in order to get everything set for the closing ceremony which needed to be held before Ramadan started at the beginning of August. Preparations included going to Banjul and dropping over D 7,000 (a fortune here--about $300) on prizes and then figuring out how to get them all back across the river and up to Kerr Jarga, a definite exercise in Gambia skillz, good thing I had a strong Gambian women along for the ride. Another day found me buying 25 kgs of flour, 30 eggs and 11 kgs of sugar in Barra. Set rental and invitation letters, I felt like I was preparing for a very large Gambian wedding. The night before the big day I was so excited I had trouble going to sleep. I woke up in the morning and had so effectively delegated all the program tasks that I didn't really have much to do. I was given the task of bagging chapati (doughnut holes) which meant I basically ate myself into a chapati stomachache.
By the time 3:30 rolled around (the program was supposed to start at 4 pm) myself and the 8 PCVs that had come to support me/witness the festivities made our way to the skills center to find all of the women already assembled (THEY WERE EARLY!!!!!!!!) in their fanciest clothes. That's when I knew this was a big deal. Of course even though the women were early the set was 2 hours late so we didn't start until closer to 6. Despite the late start the program really was everything I had hoped for and imagined. I don't think I'm exaggerating when I say it was a celebration of the women's achievements and what they had learned in the lessons. Unlike many Gambian programs it stayed focused on the women and not on the guests who had come for the free food. 15 women presented some amazing dramas about the lesson topics and after the dramas they all received certificates and prizes (soap, attaya, OMO, mosquito coils, fabric, bowls, kettles, buckets and pans). They all accepted their prizes graciously and the fear I had that people would complain about not all getting big prizes was unfounded. And then all of a sudden it was dark and all the women went home to cook dinner and Baby Mamas was over.
The next day I woke up happy and relieved and proud of the effective and successful project I had done. I'm not usually one to heap praise upon myself but in this case I pretty much kicked ass. I set this project as a goal for myself in my service and I actually achieved it which is not something all volunteers can say they have done. I achieved this by involving the community and I empowered a lot of women in my village to make better decisions about their health and the health of their families.
Coupled with all this joy and feeling of accomplishment is the realization that this is the beginning of the end. With five months left I realize I still have a way to go but having been at this for 21 months so far 5 months just doesn't seem like a ton. Now that I've finished Baby Mamas I know I'll leave here with the feeling that I accomplished something and was able to help in a small way but that realization goes hand in hand with the fact that I'm leaving and that this experience is coming to a close. Knowing that I'll be leaving a family I love dearly, friends from whom I draw constant inspiration and a country that has taught me so much I can't help but feel a little mournful. But when I feel sad I just think about all those women with their shiny new pans, buckets and knowledge and I can't help but smile.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Aaduna Si Dafa Rey
A Guest Blog by Ndeye Rohey Jassey (Courtney Sherman)
Written July 2011
It has been just over a month since I returned from The Gambia. Some days it feels like I was there just a few moments ago. There is no possible way to fully capture, with words, my experience because Gambia became a part of my soul on June 17th, 2011.
Without a doubt the best moment was seeing my dear friend's face. I will never forget the stir of emotions in the pit of my stomach as I raced through the immigration process, to be able to exit the confines of security, and run to my long lost sister. Despite some very sun bleached hair, slender figure, and tan skin, she was my same old Lindsey; the one that I laughed and cried with. The time we had lost together, since her departure to Africa, seemed to disappear in an instant as she opened her arms to me and the flood gates of our happy tears opened. There are few times in my life that I have felt complete happiness and this moment was one of them. As we embraced each other, I felt that great feeling of being at home, really at home, like the feeling you get when you plop yourself down into a chair that you have sat in your whole life and no other chair seems to feel as good or right.
I had finally made it Africa.....to this day, I still cannot believe that I went to Africa, but I did and now I feel like I can do anything, or at least try anything......once. Something about the smiling coast, as the Gambia is refereed to as, gets under your skin and conjures up a strength, or for me, a confidence, that I never knew I had, but now realize was just waiting for the opportunity to make its appearance.
Of course, Gambia is hot, very hot and when I was there, quite humid, but you realize rather quickly that your body can handle a lot more physical stress then you would have thought. Though my cloths throughout the trip were permanently in a state of moistness, I never felt more comfortable in my own skin. I felt very welcome in the Gambia. Strangers greeted me, and Peace Corps volunteers, especially those close to Lindsey felt like they had been life long friends. As I write this, a wolof phrase keeps coming to mind, Jamma rek, (Peace only.) I found my inner peace in Africa. The gentle and kind nature of the people was refreshing and the pace of the day suited me. There are many people that have absolutely nothing in the Gambia, but remain happy. The Gambian people seem to have an inner happiness that many Americans struggle to find. I think that it comes down to the idea, that they are all happy to be alive, to be given a chance to be a part of something on this planet, and realize that its a gift. The Gambians that I had the pleasure to meet and spend time with, left deep impressions on my heart.
I would not have had the opportunities to experience these relationships had it not been for the unwavering support of Lindsey Green. I have always known that Lindsey, (Ramatoulie) is an amazing woman, but seeing her in action, as a PCV member was incredible. She has become a part of her village, not just a volunteer, but a sister, a daughter, a friend to many. She has, as many said, become a Gambian! Her wolof is amazing to hear and allows her the ability to communicate in a way that I was quite jealous of. The wollof language is beautiful. Throughout my short eight days, I longed to be able to absorb all that was taught to me. I continue to learn new phrases and practice and hope to impress Ms. Green someday with an entire conversation in wollof. We shall see....What I love about this journey is that Lindsey and I will always have Africa; that no matter where we end up or how much time passes, I will never forget this time I have been so graciously been awarded.
When I sat down to write this piece, I contemplated describing the details of our travels, but really I would rather keep those memories close to my heart and with the others that experienced them with me. So, rather then write a synopsis of the events that occurred during my amazing journey, I hope that my love for the Gambia is conveyed and felt from all that have had a chance to read this.
All I can say, at this point, is that going to Gambia is like meeting your soul mate. You are left feeling.....complete. I thought that when I wrote this entry, I would go on for pages, but my heart and mind struggle to express the impact this journey has had on me. I recently learned a new phrase that in this moment, as I write this, seems to be fitting, so I will leave you with it:
Aaduna si dafa rey.....The world is very big.
Peace and love to all of you,
Courtney/Ndeye
Written July 2011
It has been just over a month since I returned from The Gambia. Some days it feels like I was there just a few moments ago. There is no possible way to fully capture, with words, my experience because Gambia became a part of my soul on June 17th, 2011.
Without a doubt the best moment was seeing my dear friend's face. I will never forget the stir of emotions in the pit of my stomach as I raced through the immigration process, to be able to exit the confines of security, and run to my long lost sister. Despite some very sun bleached hair, slender figure, and tan skin, she was my same old Lindsey; the one that I laughed and cried with. The time we had lost together, since her departure to Africa, seemed to disappear in an instant as she opened her arms to me and the flood gates of our happy tears opened. There are few times in my life that I have felt complete happiness and this moment was one of them. As we embraced each other, I felt that great feeling of being at home, really at home, like the feeling you get when you plop yourself down into a chair that you have sat in your whole life and no other chair seems to feel as good or right.
I had finally made it Africa.....to this day, I still cannot believe that I went to Africa, but I did and now I feel like I can do anything, or at least try anything......once. Something about the smiling coast, as the Gambia is refereed to as, gets under your skin and conjures up a strength, or for me, a confidence, that I never knew I had, but now realize was just waiting for the opportunity to make its appearance.
Of course, Gambia is hot, very hot and when I was there, quite humid, but you realize rather quickly that your body can handle a lot more physical stress then you would have thought. Though my cloths throughout the trip were permanently in a state of moistness, I never felt more comfortable in my own skin. I felt very welcome in the Gambia. Strangers greeted me, and Peace Corps volunteers, especially those close to Lindsey felt like they had been life long friends. As I write this, a wolof phrase keeps coming to mind, Jamma rek, (Peace only.) I found my inner peace in Africa. The gentle and kind nature of the people was refreshing and the pace of the day suited me. There are many people that have absolutely nothing in the Gambia, but remain happy. The Gambian people seem to have an inner happiness that many Americans struggle to find. I think that it comes down to the idea, that they are all happy to be alive, to be given a chance to be a part of something on this planet, and realize that its a gift. The Gambians that I had the pleasure to meet and spend time with, left deep impressions on my heart.
I would not have had the opportunities to experience these relationships had it not been for the unwavering support of Lindsey Green. I have always known that Lindsey, (Ramatoulie) is an amazing woman, but seeing her in action, as a PCV member was incredible. She has become a part of her village, not just a volunteer, but a sister, a daughter, a friend to many. She has, as many said, become a Gambian! Her wolof is amazing to hear and allows her the ability to communicate in a way that I was quite jealous of. The wollof language is beautiful. Throughout my short eight days, I longed to be able to absorb all that was taught to me. I continue to learn new phrases and practice and hope to impress Ms. Green someday with an entire conversation in wollof. We shall see....What I love about this journey is that Lindsey and I will always have Africa; that no matter where we end up or how much time passes, I will never forget this time I have been so graciously been awarded.
When I sat down to write this piece, I contemplated describing the details of our travels, but really I would rather keep those memories close to my heart and with the others that experienced them with me. So, rather then write a synopsis of the events that occurred during my amazing journey, I hope that my love for the Gambia is conveyed and felt from all that have had a chance to read this.
All I can say, at this point, is that going to Gambia is like meeting your soul mate. You are left feeling.....complete. I thought that when I wrote this entry, I would go on for pages, but my heart and mind struggle to express the impact this journey has had on me. I recently learned a new phrase that in this moment, as I write this, seems to be fitting, so I will leave you with it:
Aaduna si dafa rey.....The world is very big.
Peace and love to all of you,
Courtney/Ndeye
Sunday, July 10, 2011
(Good??) Grief
Written on June 29th, 2011
Today I went to my first funeral. Up until now I have avoided them because I don't like to go to funerals in America, let alone the Gambia, and Yaay Amie and Yaay Sarjo told me that it was ok that I don't go. Yesterday though when I heard that Bai Jassey(my counterpart and close friend)'s father had died I knew that I needed to overcome my fear/dislike and go to my first Gambian funeral. Usually they bury people here as soon as possible but since Baay Matar died in Kombo yesterday afternoon they had to transport the body back to Kerr Jarga so the funeral wasn't until this morning.
After breakfast Yaay Sarjo and I went over to the Jassey compound. The men were sitting outside the compound under the mango tree and all of the women were sitting inside the compound. Most of the guests from other villages were sitting outside in the middle of the compound while the women from my side of the village were all in one house/behind the house cooking. Like any Gambian program food was necessary so many women had been over in the compound since early in the morning cooking. Usually I am eager to be helpful but today since I really didn't know what to expect I just sat and observed. I spent a lot of time sitting in the house with the older women from my village just reflecting and observing. We were all waiting for the body to arrive so it was definitely a tense space with people making minimal small talk etc. When people did chat it was interesting that the main thing they talked about was who was crying, how they were crying and how much they were crying. Crying is very much frowned upon here especially for adults, when an adult crys in public they are chastised and yelled at/told to stop. In America I am a bit of a crier but here I don't cry at all, I've cried in front of my host dad once and he freaked out, told me to stop and forced me to drink water. He promptly told everyone that I had cried so this public declaration of who was grieving with tears wasn't totally surprising. I was most surprised by how many different ways they had in Wolof to describe crying and how each of the descriptions were so accurate of the type of crying that I knew exactly what they were talking about even though I had never heard the vocabulary before. All this crying talk also sobered me and helped me fight the urge to cry when it arose a couple times.
When the food was ready we all ate very soberly and not with any great relish. Just as we were starting on our bowl we heard a wave of screaming, crying and wailing so we knew that the body had arrived. We promptly all lost the urge to eat. As the group accompanying the body came into the compound many women were overcome with emotion and everyone withdrew into themselves (into different corners of the hut, sunk lower into their chairs) and wept silently. It was a very jarring experience for me to see all of the strong, older women in my village, who usually are very stoic, unless they are joking or mad, so sad and clearly contemplating so many things. If they were born in this village they probably have known this man since they were born and even if they came here through marriage he was a village elder, a prominent man in village so everyone knew him and had some connection to him. It was for me just another affirmation of how connected everyone is here. After everyone had settled down the men outside, led by the imam (religious leader for the village), started to pray and eulogize Baay Matar. I have never seen the women of my village so quiet before. Every so often someone would greet or say something to their neighbor but other than that there was no joking, no laughing, no nothing. I have never seen my village so stoic.
After about thirty to forty minutes of prayer the men formed a procession to take the coffin to the cemetary to be buried. They started wailing, "Laay laay e laay laay," and walked the coffin around the compound. Everyone stood up and the women/men who had previously been so stoic lost it--sobbing and wailing. My counterpart and friend Bai ran through the house and "cried like a woman" (quote from a nearby woman) in the backyard. Another friend was beside herself sobbing while two women yelled at her to stop crying because it was Gods will and God doesn't like it if you cry. Those two images brought me very close to tears because I felt like any comfort I would give either of them would not be able to bridge the cultural gap between us. Talk about feeling completly helpless. After the men had gone all of the women went outside to sit. We all sat in utter silence until the men came back. At that point all of the women gave a charity of 5 dalasi or more to the three widows and dispersed.
Strangely enough after all of the sadness the dispersement outside of the compound was like a social hour. Greeting people who I had not seen in months from other villages and really marveling at the sense of connectedness and community I feel for this small village, even in this moment of grief; I marveled at the sense of comfort I got from experiencing mourning with them.
Today I went to my first funeral. Up until now I have avoided them because I don't like to go to funerals in America, let alone the Gambia, and Yaay Amie and Yaay Sarjo told me that it was ok that I don't go. Yesterday though when I heard that Bai Jassey(my counterpart and close friend)'s father had died I knew that I needed to overcome my fear/dislike and go to my first Gambian funeral. Usually they bury people here as soon as possible but since Baay Matar died in Kombo yesterday afternoon they had to transport the body back to Kerr Jarga so the funeral wasn't until this morning.
After breakfast Yaay Sarjo and I went over to the Jassey compound. The men were sitting outside the compound under the mango tree and all of the women were sitting inside the compound. Most of the guests from other villages were sitting outside in the middle of the compound while the women from my side of the village were all in one house/behind the house cooking. Like any Gambian program food was necessary so many women had been over in the compound since early in the morning cooking. Usually I am eager to be helpful but today since I really didn't know what to expect I just sat and observed. I spent a lot of time sitting in the house with the older women from my village just reflecting and observing. We were all waiting for the body to arrive so it was definitely a tense space with people making minimal small talk etc. When people did chat it was interesting that the main thing they talked about was who was crying, how they were crying and how much they were crying. Crying is very much frowned upon here especially for adults, when an adult crys in public they are chastised and yelled at/told to stop. In America I am a bit of a crier but here I don't cry at all, I've cried in front of my host dad once and he freaked out, told me to stop and forced me to drink water. He promptly told everyone that I had cried so this public declaration of who was grieving with tears wasn't totally surprising. I was most surprised by how many different ways they had in Wolof to describe crying and how each of the descriptions were so accurate of the type of crying that I knew exactly what they were talking about even though I had never heard the vocabulary before. All this crying talk also sobered me and helped me fight the urge to cry when it arose a couple times.
When the food was ready we all ate very soberly and not with any great relish. Just as we were starting on our bowl we heard a wave of screaming, crying and wailing so we knew that the body had arrived. We promptly all lost the urge to eat. As the group accompanying the body came into the compound many women were overcome with emotion and everyone withdrew into themselves (into different corners of the hut, sunk lower into their chairs) and wept silently. It was a very jarring experience for me to see all of the strong, older women in my village, who usually are very stoic, unless they are joking or mad, so sad and clearly contemplating so many things. If they were born in this village they probably have known this man since they were born and even if they came here through marriage he was a village elder, a prominent man in village so everyone knew him and had some connection to him. It was for me just another affirmation of how connected everyone is here. After everyone had settled down the men outside, led by the imam (religious leader for the village), started to pray and eulogize Baay Matar. I have never seen the women of my village so quiet before. Every so often someone would greet or say something to their neighbor but other than that there was no joking, no laughing, no nothing. I have never seen my village so stoic.
After about thirty to forty minutes of prayer the men formed a procession to take the coffin to the cemetary to be buried. They started wailing, "Laay laay e laay laay," and walked the coffin around the compound. Everyone stood up and the women/men who had previously been so stoic lost it--sobbing and wailing. My counterpart and friend Bai ran through the house and "cried like a woman" (quote from a nearby woman) in the backyard. Another friend was beside herself sobbing while two women yelled at her to stop crying because it was Gods will and God doesn't like it if you cry. Those two images brought me very close to tears because I felt like any comfort I would give either of them would not be able to bridge the cultural gap between us. Talk about feeling completly helpless. After the men had gone all of the women went outside to sit. We all sat in utter silence until the men came back. At that point all of the women gave a charity of 5 dalasi or more to the three widows and dispersed.
Strangely enough after all of the sadness the dispersement outside of the compound was like a social hour. Greeting people who I had not seen in months from other villages and really marveling at the sense of connectedness and community I feel for this small village, even in this moment of grief; I marveled at the sense of comfort I got from experiencing mourning with them.
Friday, June 17, 2011
Baby Mamas!!!!
Written for Peace Corps The Gambias June Health Newsletter
Long ago when I was fresh out of training, new to my village and still trying to figure out what the heck I was going to do for two years other than sweat, eat rice and try to set the record for most consecutive boils, I read Nine Hills to Nambonkaha by Sarah Erdman, a former PCV in Cote d'Ivoire. I remember thinking a) this is a lot like being a PCV in The Gambia, b) she is much more funny and eloquent when it comes to describing her experiences than I am and c) the health competition that she does in her village sounds really f-ing cool.
So what was I to do but steal her idea and try to recreate it in Kerr Jarga, hence "Baby Mamas" or "Yow Yaay Yaay" (You are the Mother) was born. I decided that though I liked the model of the Hearth program, positive deviance and mothers learning from each other, that in my community where everyone is in each others business all the time it would be hard to run a program with such obvious benefits to the participants and limit it to ten or twelve women; a larger scale competition, incorporating the Hearth model, with incentives for participation seemed like a better fit for my village. But before I started I felt like I needed to gather more information about how community members perceived their personal health and the health for their children/family. So I invited potential counterparts and key village people (the VDC chairman, CHN, VHW, TBAs, alkali, district chief, literacy instructors and women involved in the skills center) to a village health assessment meeting. From this I was able to gain a better understanding of the health challenges faced by the community and realized that for most mothers of children under five there is a lack of basic knowledge about personal health. Not that the women are stupid--far from it--but they don't understand why things like exclusive breastfeeding or hand washing are important; additionally very rarely do people take the time to explain it to them in a way they can understand.
So from this starting point I developed a project proposal and budget, applied for a Peace Corps Partnership, begged my friends and family for money, received the money and realized, "Shit, now I guess I am actually doing this Baby Mamas thing."
The heart of Baby Mamas is six health lessons, each lesson to be taught twice, dealing with issues identified in the village health assessment, such as RCH and exclusive breastfeeding, nutrition, personal hygiene, environmental sanitation, malaria, and female reproduction and anatomy. For every lesson women attend they get two points if they are on time and one point if they are late. They also can earn points for attending RCH. Due to the women's lack of literacy I included lost of visual aids and games in the lesson plans to encourage better understanding and participation. In writing the lessons I wanted the information to focus on preventative health care and also on the women's personal health. So often they hear about how to properly care for their children but what about themselves? How are they supposed to care for themselves if they get a cut while cooking? Why should women make sure they are eating a balanced diet? And what in the world does the vagina actually look like? I wanted to give them the knowledge to make informed decisions about their health as well as the health of their children.
Once all of the lessons were written it was time to get the women actually excited to come to them. What better way to do that in the Gambia than have a program? After a few, mostly unsuccessful, village sensitization meetings we called everyone in the village for an "opening ceremony" and myself, my two host moms and a bunch of my neighbors kneaded, balled and fried twenty-five kilos of flour into panketo party favors. At the opening ceremony I gave every women who was interested and eligible a green scorecard for the duration of the competition and inshallah if they don't lost them or destroy them I'll collect them at the end to see who has accumulated the most points.
Since the opening ceremony in mid-May we've held three health lessons and we're on track to get the bulk of the lessons done by the end of June. I have been blown away by class attendance, usually around ninety women each day. My counterpart, Papa Sam, a Public Health Officer at the health center near me has been teaching the lessons and he has really embraced using games and visual aides in the health lessons. The other day at the end of the nutrition game he actually said, "That was fun." The women have learned that if they're on time they get more points so they have started actually showing up on time. Of course having ninety loud Wolof women in one room can be a bit difficult to control but slowly they are starting to embrace the four class rules, 1) listen 2) raise your hand 3) one person talks at a time and 4) work together.
So what have I learned so far?First, I've realized that readjusting expectations is healthy and necessary. I initially wanted a high level of participation for men in addition to women, sending the message that health is every ones concern, not just women's. That level of buy-in would be great but is a long way off. I've come to see that they lack of men allows the women to act more freely. They are less shy about raising their hands and speaking up; and men don't have a chance to dominate the conversation. They have taken ownership of their "school" and the lesson space as a place for them to be together and discuss things in a way that gender roles might not otherwise allow.Second, use your toubab power for good. Baby Mamas has worked because its a completely new idea and format for health education in Kerr Jarga and people know that I'm the one who has been organizing it. I used to be concerned because Baby Mamas events were always referred to as "Ramatoulie's" this or that but then I realized that labeling things in this way gave Baby Mamas a higher status than just another village program. People came and participated because it was associated with me. I think many people are still confused about how the competition actually works but they continue to come to the lessons because of the "toubab tipping point." They want to see what ridiculous thing I will do, what strange drawings I will have made on perfectly good rice bags or what Wolof word I will mispronounce. Rather than getting annoyed by the fact that I'm the butt of most jokes I am embracing this as just one of the ways I con the women in my village into learning more about health.Finally, I have learned "it will be what it will be" so just go with it, stressing out does nobody any good. All I can do is try to write good health lessons, explain to counterparts why I think health education is needed in my village, tell the women how important this information is to them, and then let the chips fall where they may. There have been lots of false starts and definitely a few failures because of this approach but for all of those there have equally been great successes. When the women realized that just because something is more expensive, i.e. sugar and bread, it doesn't mean its better for you or when all ninety women chanted "We should exclusively breastfeed for good birth spacing in Kerr Jarga" --well if that's not a Peace Corps fist pump moment I don't know what is.
With three lessons down and nine more to go we've got a lot more ground to cover, and that ground includes the vagina apron, but I'm confident that in the end the women in my village will have increased their knowledge about personal health and will have some rad, shiny new bowls, buckets and pans to show for it.
Long ago when I was fresh out of training, new to my village and still trying to figure out what the heck I was going to do for two years other than sweat, eat rice and try to set the record for most consecutive boils, I read Nine Hills to Nambonkaha by Sarah Erdman, a former PCV in Cote d'Ivoire. I remember thinking a) this is a lot like being a PCV in The Gambia, b) she is much more funny and eloquent when it comes to describing her experiences than I am and c) the health competition that she does in her village sounds really f-ing cool.
So what was I to do but steal her idea and try to recreate it in Kerr Jarga, hence "Baby Mamas" or "Yow Yaay Yaay" (You are the Mother) was born. I decided that though I liked the model of the Hearth program, positive deviance and mothers learning from each other, that in my community where everyone is in each others business all the time it would be hard to run a program with such obvious benefits to the participants and limit it to ten or twelve women; a larger scale competition, incorporating the Hearth model, with incentives for participation seemed like a better fit for my village. But before I started I felt like I needed to gather more information about how community members perceived their personal health and the health for their children/family. So I invited potential counterparts and key village people (the VDC chairman, CHN, VHW, TBAs, alkali, district chief, literacy instructors and women involved in the skills center) to a village health assessment meeting. From this I was able to gain a better understanding of the health challenges faced by the community and realized that for most mothers of children under five there is a lack of basic knowledge about personal health. Not that the women are stupid--far from it--but they don't understand why things like exclusive breastfeeding or hand washing are important; additionally very rarely do people take the time to explain it to them in a way they can understand.
So from this starting point I developed a project proposal and budget, applied for a Peace Corps Partnership, begged my friends and family for money, received the money and realized, "Shit, now I guess I am actually doing this Baby Mamas thing."
The heart of Baby Mamas is six health lessons, each lesson to be taught twice, dealing with issues identified in the village health assessment, such as RCH and exclusive breastfeeding, nutrition, personal hygiene, environmental sanitation, malaria, and female reproduction and anatomy. For every lesson women attend they get two points if they are on time and one point if they are late. They also can earn points for attending RCH. Due to the women's lack of literacy I included lost of visual aids and games in the lesson plans to encourage better understanding and participation. In writing the lessons I wanted the information to focus on preventative health care and also on the women's personal health. So often they hear about how to properly care for their children but what about themselves? How are they supposed to care for themselves if they get a cut while cooking? Why should women make sure they are eating a balanced diet? And what in the world does the vagina actually look like? I wanted to give them the knowledge to make informed decisions about their health as well as the health of their children.
Once all of the lessons were written it was time to get the women actually excited to come to them. What better way to do that in the Gambia than have a program? After a few, mostly unsuccessful, village sensitization meetings we called everyone in the village for an "opening ceremony" and myself, my two host moms and a bunch of my neighbors kneaded, balled and fried twenty-five kilos of flour into panketo party favors. At the opening ceremony I gave every women who was interested and eligible a green scorecard for the duration of the competition and inshallah if they don't lost them or destroy them I'll collect them at the end to see who has accumulated the most points.
Since the opening ceremony in mid-May we've held three health lessons and we're on track to get the bulk of the lessons done by the end of June. I have been blown away by class attendance, usually around ninety women each day. My counterpart, Papa Sam, a Public Health Officer at the health center near me has been teaching the lessons and he has really embraced using games and visual aides in the health lessons. The other day at the end of the nutrition game he actually said, "That was fun." The women have learned that if they're on time they get more points so they have started actually showing up on time. Of course having ninety loud Wolof women in one room can be a bit difficult to control but slowly they are starting to embrace the four class rules, 1) listen 2) raise your hand 3) one person talks at a time and 4) work together.
So what have I learned so far?First, I've realized that readjusting expectations is healthy and necessary. I initially wanted a high level of participation for men in addition to women, sending the message that health is every ones concern, not just women's. That level of buy-in would be great but is a long way off. I've come to see that they lack of men allows the women to act more freely. They are less shy about raising their hands and speaking up; and men don't have a chance to dominate the conversation. They have taken ownership of their "school" and the lesson space as a place for them to be together and discuss things in a way that gender roles might not otherwise allow.Second, use your toubab power for good. Baby Mamas has worked because its a completely new idea and format for health education in Kerr Jarga and people know that I'm the one who has been organizing it. I used to be concerned because Baby Mamas events were always referred to as "Ramatoulie's" this or that but then I realized that labeling things in this way gave Baby Mamas a higher status than just another village program. People came and participated because it was associated with me. I think many people are still confused about how the competition actually works but they continue to come to the lessons because of the "toubab tipping point." They want to see what ridiculous thing I will do, what strange drawings I will have made on perfectly good rice bags or what Wolof word I will mispronounce. Rather than getting annoyed by the fact that I'm the butt of most jokes I am embracing this as just one of the ways I con the women in my village into learning more about health.Finally, I have learned "it will be what it will be" so just go with it, stressing out does nobody any good. All I can do is try to write good health lessons, explain to counterparts why I think health education is needed in my village, tell the women how important this information is to them, and then let the chips fall where they may. There have been lots of false starts and definitely a few failures because of this approach but for all of those there have equally been great successes. When the women realized that just because something is more expensive, i.e. sugar and bread, it doesn't mean its better for you or when all ninety women chanted "We should exclusively breastfeed for good birth spacing in Kerr Jarga" --well if that's not a Peace Corps fist pump moment I don't know what is.
With three lessons down and nine more to go we've got a lot more ground to cover, and that ground includes the vagina apron, but I'm confident that in the end the women in my village will have increased their knowledge about personal health and will have some rad, shiny new bowls, buckets and pans to show for it.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
25 Kilos of Flour Later....
Written on May 13th, 2011
Today after probably a year of working and thinking and hoping and doubting was the opening ceremony of my Baby Mamas health competition. As I had anticipated it was a busy and at times annoying and stressful day but despite the ups and downs and all the "Gambian-ess" along the way it happened and I do genuinely feel like the village is jazzed for the health competition. So though I don't usually do this I'm going to walk you through my day.
I woke up earlier than I wanted to--around 7 am--because for some inexplicable reason Mam Goor was wailing. I finally rolled out of bed and flowed through a little yoga while listening to Girltalk. After yoga was a quick breakfast of oatmeal with peanut butter and Gambian honey. As I was brushing my teeth at around 9 my Yaay Amie came to the door frantically urging me to hurry before the sun gets hot. So myself and my host aunt and two sisters rushed over to the skill center to pick up all the supplies to make "chapati" (which is basically a less greasy version of a donut hole). 25 kilos of flour were quickly up on my host aunts head and then deposited in our compound along with a HUGE cooking pot, two big buckets and sieve like spoon. While my moms sifted the flour I was off to the bitik for 11 kilos of sugar, a can of sweetened condensed milk and 100 sugar packets of "sucre vanile." By the time I made it back to my compound the flour was sifted and we were all sitting around in the dirt getting ready to make a quantity of "donuts" usually only associated with large bakeries. A side note on cooking here--everyone cooks basically the same ten dishes but despite that fact there is always much debate that goes on about how things should be made. I found out that this debate/argument is increased vastly with baked goods/seldom cooked items. So after much discussion and missteps, and thirty cracked eggs we were all elbow deep (and buy all I mean everyone but me because I "don't know" and "my arms aren't strong") in two large, maybe 2 feet in diameter, buckets full of dough, kneading it into a gooey, sweet blob. From there two big pots full of oil were set up over cooking fires and we set to rolling and frying our buckets of dough into small balls. It sound laborious and tedious, which it is, but it is also a ton of fun. Our compound was the place to hangout so women were coming by all morning to sit and chant and ball/fry some dough which they were at it. Kids run around playing and stealing bites, babies cry, attaya is brewed and we all sweat and chase shade because I don't know if you heard, the sun is hot. By lunch time we've taken 25 kilos of flour, 11 kilos of sugar, 30 eggs, 2 big cans of condensed milk and 10 litre of oil into three pans, two feet in diameter buckets, full of hot, greasy, sugary and delicious chapati. We all break for lunch, I hurriedly take a bath and then we form an assembly line in my house putting 4 to 6 chapatis into little plastic bags because "it is more civilized."
At 4:30 pm I rush over to the skills center. I'm only 30 minutes late for our "4 pm" meeting which means that really I am an hour and thirty minutes early. But god forbid my relatively easy morning of baked goods transition into a calm and easy afternoon meeting. A government agency has decided yesterday to have a meeting at the skills center today at 2 pm which means by 4 pm they had actually started and when people started coming for my meeting at 5 pm they were in the heart of their meeting. After a few tense moments and some needless freak outs over things like making juice and to make or not make attaya the meeting is dispersed and we set up chairs and tables at the back of the skills center. The women gathers around the table expectantly and we all sit in "civilized" silence waiting for the district chief to come. When he does show up he sticks his head out the back door and greets us all before taking his leave, which means finally at 6 pm we start.
Once the meeting had started I knew I was in the home stretch. I gave my preplanned explanation of the competition in Wolof and then our invited guests from the health center and ADWAC spoke. Afterwards everyone was given a chance to speak and the usual cast of characters added in their two sense but the most special thing (for me) was that my host mom Yaay Amie spoke about how grateful my compound is that I am here and helping them and the village. It was a big moment because Gambians are not ones to often or freely give praise, they tend to focus more on things that haven't been done (you didn't buy butter) or comparison (orange is a better flavor of juice than pineapple). So for here to praise me so publicly was really special especially because she never has said anything like that to me before. It was a very special moment for me. The big finale of the opening ceremony was giving the women their competition score cards and handing out the chapati and juice. Not surprisingly the score cards were kind of a shit show. But everyone who needed/wanted one got one. After the business part of the ceremony was finished the women gathered in a big circle and danced. Though brief (about 30 minutes) as they danced, shook their butts and flashed their thighs I could feel so much joy in the circle that it was worth all of the earlier work and frustration. The women kept exclaiming, "Look at Ramatoulie, she cannot stop smiling." and it was true.
Today after probably a year of working and thinking and hoping and doubting was the opening ceremony of my Baby Mamas health competition. As I had anticipated it was a busy and at times annoying and stressful day but despite the ups and downs and all the "Gambian-ess" along the way it happened and I do genuinely feel like the village is jazzed for the health competition. So though I don't usually do this I'm going to walk you through my day.
I woke up earlier than I wanted to--around 7 am--because for some inexplicable reason Mam Goor was wailing. I finally rolled out of bed and flowed through a little yoga while listening to Girltalk. After yoga was a quick breakfast of oatmeal with peanut butter and Gambian honey. As I was brushing my teeth at around 9 my Yaay Amie came to the door frantically urging me to hurry before the sun gets hot. So myself and my host aunt and two sisters rushed over to the skill center to pick up all the supplies to make "chapati" (which is basically a less greasy version of a donut hole). 25 kilos of flour were quickly up on my host aunts head and then deposited in our compound along with a HUGE cooking pot, two big buckets and sieve like spoon. While my moms sifted the flour I was off to the bitik for 11 kilos of sugar, a can of sweetened condensed milk and 100 sugar packets of "sucre vanile." By the time I made it back to my compound the flour was sifted and we were all sitting around in the dirt getting ready to make a quantity of "donuts" usually only associated with large bakeries. A side note on cooking here--everyone cooks basically the same ten dishes but despite that fact there is always much debate that goes on about how things should be made. I found out that this debate/argument is increased vastly with baked goods/seldom cooked items. So after much discussion and missteps, and thirty cracked eggs we were all elbow deep (and buy all I mean everyone but me because I "don't know" and "my arms aren't strong") in two large, maybe 2 feet in diameter, buckets full of dough, kneading it into a gooey, sweet blob. From there two big pots full of oil were set up over cooking fires and we set to rolling and frying our buckets of dough into small balls. It sound laborious and tedious, which it is, but it is also a ton of fun. Our compound was the place to hangout so women were coming by all morning to sit and chant and ball/fry some dough which they were at it. Kids run around playing and stealing bites, babies cry, attaya is brewed and we all sweat and chase shade because I don't know if you heard, the sun is hot. By lunch time we've taken 25 kilos of flour, 11 kilos of sugar, 30 eggs, 2 big cans of condensed milk and 10 litre of oil into three pans, two feet in diameter buckets, full of hot, greasy, sugary and delicious chapati. We all break for lunch, I hurriedly take a bath and then we form an assembly line in my house putting 4 to 6 chapatis into little plastic bags because "it is more civilized."
At 4:30 pm I rush over to the skills center. I'm only 30 minutes late for our "4 pm" meeting which means that really I am an hour and thirty minutes early. But god forbid my relatively easy morning of baked goods transition into a calm and easy afternoon meeting. A government agency has decided yesterday to have a meeting at the skills center today at 2 pm which means by 4 pm they had actually started and when people started coming for my meeting at 5 pm they were in the heart of their meeting. After a few tense moments and some needless freak outs over things like making juice and to make or not make attaya the meeting is dispersed and we set up chairs and tables at the back of the skills center. The women gathers around the table expectantly and we all sit in "civilized" silence waiting for the district chief to come. When he does show up he sticks his head out the back door and greets us all before taking his leave, which means finally at 6 pm we start.
Once the meeting had started I knew I was in the home stretch. I gave my preplanned explanation of the competition in Wolof and then our invited guests from the health center and ADWAC spoke. Afterwards everyone was given a chance to speak and the usual cast of characters added in their two sense but the most special thing (for me) was that my host mom Yaay Amie spoke about how grateful my compound is that I am here and helping them and the village. It was a big moment because Gambians are not ones to often or freely give praise, they tend to focus more on things that haven't been done (you didn't buy butter) or comparison (orange is a better flavor of juice than pineapple). So for here to praise me so publicly was really special especially because she never has said anything like that to me before. It was a very special moment for me. The big finale of the opening ceremony was giving the women their competition score cards and handing out the chapati and juice. Not surprisingly the score cards were kind of a shit show. But everyone who needed/wanted one got one. After the business part of the ceremony was finished the women gathered in a big circle and danced. Though brief (about 30 minutes) as they danced, shook their butts and flashed their thighs I could feel so much joy in the circle that it was worth all of the earlier work and frustration. The women kept exclaiming, "Look at Ramatoulie, she cannot stop smiling." and it was true.
Monday, May 2, 2011
Gossiping In Gambia
Written on April 21st, 2011
I am a fan of gossip. For better or worse this is a well known fact about me. When I began gossiping, in Wolof, to Gambians, this is when I knew that I had truly arrived here.
Last Saturday the Pulaar baker who rents the hut next to me came out of his house around 9 am and it was clear something was wrong. He looked up at the sky blankly and when we asked him what was wrong he didn't respond. He promptly left the compound but it didn't take long for word to get back to us that he was wandering around the village, walking around in circles, being followed by a pack of children like the Pied Piper. My host mom turned to me and very frankly said, "He's crazy now now." About an hour later he was finally escorted back to my compound by a group of men from the village. They got him into the house and quickly about fifteen people were crowding around the door, peering over each other heads trying to get a look at him. So--basically--in the span of a few hours my neighbor had gone crazy. I left soon after taht to attend a program in a nearby village but heard when I got back that he wandered about the compound all day and night. By Monday morning his older brother had come to pick him up and take him back to their home village. I haven't been able to come up with a logical/scientific explanation for what happened, maybe he took the wrong combination of traditional medicine and was on a really bad trip. But the explanation that everyone has been giving is that one of his brothers, who lives in Guinea Conakry, wanted him to come and help him farm and since he refused the brother set a voodoo spell on him. Seems just as likely an explanation as anything.
So where has the gossiping come in. I found myself telling my story to anyone who would listen, with my punch line being "Isn't that so strange!" So lets consider me publishing this story on my blog as an act of cross cultural and continental gossip.
xoxo Gossip Girl in The Gambia
I am a fan of gossip. For better or worse this is a well known fact about me. When I began gossiping, in Wolof, to Gambians, this is when I knew that I had truly arrived here.
Last Saturday the Pulaar baker who rents the hut next to me came out of his house around 9 am and it was clear something was wrong. He looked up at the sky blankly and when we asked him what was wrong he didn't respond. He promptly left the compound but it didn't take long for word to get back to us that he was wandering around the village, walking around in circles, being followed by a pack of children like the Pied Piper. My host mom turned to me and very frankly said, "He's crazy now now." About an hour later he was finally escorted back to my compound by a group of men from the village. They got him into the house and quickly about fifteen people were crowding around the door, peering over each other heads trying to get a look at him. So--basically--in the span of a few hours my neighbor had gone crazy. I left soon after taht to attend a program in a nearby village but heard when I got back that he wandered about the compound all day and night. By Monday morning his older brother had come to pick him up and take him back to their home village. I haven't been able to come up with a logical/scientific explanation for what happened, maybe he took the wrong combination of traditional medicine and was on a really bad trip. But the explanation that everyone has been giving is that one of his brothers, who lives in Guinea Conakry, wanted him to come and help him farm and since he refused the brother set a voodoo spell on him. Seems just as likely an explanation as anything.
So where has the gossiping come in. I found myself telling my story to anyone who would listen, with my punch line being "Isn't that so strange!" So lets consider me publishing this story on my blog as an act of cross cultural and continental gossip.
xoxo Gossip Girl in The Gambia
Will You Be My Baby Mama?
Written on April 17th, 2011
Here's a good Peace Corps riddle for you: What's a more motivating force than helping the people in your community???? Having friends and family in the US forking over $$$ for your community.
Not long ago as you all may remember I put out a plea for donations to a community health competition I want to organize in my village. The outpouring of support was amazing (Thank you all!!) and within no time I had the money I needed--at which point I found myself thinking--"Shit, I guess I do actually have to do this now." because so many ideas and projects here often tail to even make it off the ground I find myself often pleasantly surprised when things work out.
I already place a lot of pressure and expectations on myself to succeed. That is just who I am and here it is merely amplified by my sense of purpose and urgency when it comes to helping my village. However great this commitment of mine is the downside is that it leads me to set high expectations for myself and those around me that are most often incredibly difficult or impossible to achieve. Not that the Gambia isn't full of people with a sense of drive and purpose which makes it easy for them to go above and beyond expectations, yet the reality is that a motto I've had to adopt since I have arrived is "lower your expectations."
The process of actually commencing the "Baby Mamas" or "Yow Yaay Yaay" health competition has really necessitated and put to the test this idea. For example, this past week I called a village meeting to introduce the competition. I imagined a picturesque community meeting with 100s of villagers. The village elders would all sit on plastic chairs in their grand boubous with small children at their feet, the women would be animated and engaged and make profound statements about the struggles they face in maintaining their personal health. In reality, an hour and a half after the meeting was supposed to start we had one participant. Finally around 7 pm (the meeting was supposed to happen at 5 pm) we had about 30 old women (not our target group of mothers with children under 5), half of whom couldn't talk because they were so busy praying with their prayer beads. No men were there and in the end I had about 50 "old women" and 20 mothers, so much for all the village diversity.
So by all accounts this village meeting was very far from what I had hoped for and imagined. But it did cause me to check myself and not necessarily lower but readjust my expectations. While developing my health competition I had high hopes for what if would achieve. I wanted to teach the women of my village about health and I imagined packed meetings and lots of participation. I'm realizing though that maybe I need to focus on the fact that if I can get 10 women to come and truly participate, to ask questions and teach others than that is an achievement enough. I'm sure as this project continues I will find myself with many more situations of disappointment when what I imagined isn't what I get. But in the end I will learn just as much in the failures as I do in the successes. So stay tuned to the Baby Mamas saga--next up is the opening ceremony!
Here's a good Peace Corps riddle for you: What's a more motivating force than helping the people in your community???? Having friends and family in the US forking over $$$ for your community.
Not long ago as you all may remember I put out a plea for donations to a community health competition I want to organize in my village. The outpouring of support was amazing (Thank you all!!) and within no time I had the money I needed--at which point I found myself thinking--"Shit, I guess I do actually have to do this now." because so many ideas and projects here often tail to even make it off the ground I find myself often pleasantly surprised when things work out.
I already place a lot of pressure and expectations on myself to succeed. That is just who I am and here it is merely amplified by my sense of purpose and urgency when it comes to helping my village. However great this commitment of mine is the downside is that it leads me to set high expectations for myself and those around me that are most often incredibly difficult or impossible to achieve. Not that the Gambia isn't full of people with a sense of drive and purpose which makes it easy for them to go above and beyond expectations, yet the reality is that a motto I've had to adopt since I have arrived is "lower your expectations."
The process of actually commencing the "Baby Mamas" or "Yow Yaay Yaay" health competition has really necessitated and put to the test this idea. For example, this past week I called a village meeting to introduce the competition. I imagined a picturesque community meeting with 100s of villagers. The village elders would all sit on plastic chairs in their grand boubous with small children at their feet, the women would be animated and engaged and make profound statements about the struggles they face in maintaining their personal health. In reality, an hour and a half after the meeting was supposed to start we had one participant. Finally around 7 pm (the meeting was supposed to happen at 5 pm) we had about 30 old women (not our target group of mothers with children under 5), half of whom couldn't talk because they were so busy praying with their prayer beads. No men were there and in the end I had about 50 "old women" and 20 mothers, so much for all the village diversity.
So by all accounts this village meeting was very far from what I had hoped for and imagined. But it did cause me to check myself and not necessarily lower but readjust my expectations. While developing my health competition I had high hopes for what if would achieve. I wanted to teach the women of my village about health and I imagined packed meetings and lots of participation. I'm realizing though that maybe I need to focus on the fact that if I can get 10 women to come and truly participate, to ask questions and teach others than that is an achievement enough. I'm sure as this project continues I will find myself with many more situations of disappointment when what I imagined isn't what I get. But in the end I will learn just as much in the failures as I do in the successes. So stay tuned to the Baby Mamas saga--next up is the opening ceremony!
One Wedding and One Funeral
Written on April 5th, 2011
I got back to village on Monday morning after a two week jaunt around the Gambia with my mom and dad. I was expecting it to be a big and busy Gambian day but I didn't realize how busy or big it would be until I was walking into village, towards the skills center and my compound and I heard the wailing. A man in the compound next to mine who had been ill for a while had just died. Everyone was ashen and silent they sprung into action bringing chairs over to the compound and stringing up tarps for shade. To make the situation crazier a young women in the compound on the other side of mine was getting married at exactly the same time as all the funeral arrangements were going on. But this was in no way a fun rom-com starring Hugh Grant. I watched curiously as grief and happiness coexisted, as they often do in the Gambia.
The two programs were quickly divided between the young and the old. All the young people from our side of the village, including me, went to the wedding for the morning and the majority of the adults went to help with the funeral and burial. Not surprisingly everyone at the wedding was talking about the death and kept saying "Tey Kerr Jarga, neexoot dara." "Today Kerr Jarga is not nice at all." The wedding dd not feature any of the drums or dancing that traditionally accompany a wedding ceremony but the food was still plentiful and everyone got dressed to the nines. Around 1 pm we all went home and took a break from the wedding, I slept in the heat of the day and woke up at 5 pm as they were preparing to take the body to the village cemetery for burial. Men in traditional complets and women all with big shawls over their heads gathered in the compound and everyone started "wailing"--it sounds kind of like saying "laay laay eee laay laay" over and over again. The men took the body on a procession through the village and the women stayed in the compound and wailed. I watched from a respectful distance and thought about how much I admire Gambians sense of community--no matter how close you were to this person he was someones son, someones husband and his death is worth a little time and wailing to support his family. I also appreciate how no one here questions participating: you just go, give a small charity to the family, because that's the right thing to do.
After all the wailing passed I put on a complet and went to watch the bride get made up in all of her wedding finery. Makeup here is definitely what we would describe as over the top. Painted on eyebrows, bright coloured eye shadow last popular in the 80s and fake eyelashes. Somehow though, maybe I've just lived here to long, but they manage to pull it off. Photos of the finished product and then we were off to her new house in her husbands compound. Usually there would be lots of singing and dancing but this was a quiet and respectful affair. She greeted all the assembled guests and they showed off all the gifts she had brought with her to the compound. We ate rice and coos coos and I went home to reflect.
Though every commented about it in passing everyone just accepted that the two programs just had to coexist. Just as grief and happiness can go hand and hand in the Gambia, so too I learned can a wedding and a funeral.
I got back to village on Monday morning after a two week jaunt around the Gambia with my mom and dad. I was expecting it to be a big and busy Gambian day but I didn't realize how busy or big it would be until I was walking into village, towards the skills center and my compound and I heard the wailing. A man in the compound next to mine who had been ill for a while had just died. Everyone was ashen and silent they sprung into action bringing chairs over to the compound and stringing up tarps for shade. To make the situation crazier a young women in the compound on the other side of mine was getting married at exactly the same time as all the funeral arrangements were going on. But this was in no way a fun rom-com starring Hugh Grant. I watched curiously as grief and happiness coexisted, as they often do in the Gambia.
The two programs were quickly divided between the young and the old. All the young people from our side of the village, including me, went to the wedding for the morning and the majority of the adults went to help with the funeral and burial. Not surprisingly everyone at the wedding was talking about the death and kept saying "Tey Kerr Jarga, neexoot dara." "Today Kerr Jarga is not nice at all." The wedding dd not feature any of the drums or dancing that traditionally accompany a wedding ceremony but the food was still plentiful and everyone got dressed to the nines. Around 1 pm we all went home and took a break from the wedding, I slept in the heat of the day and woke up at 5 pm as they were preparing to take the body to the village cemetery for burial. Men in traditional complets and women all with big shawls over their heads gathered in the compound and everyone started "wailing"--it sounds kind of like saying "laay laay eee laay laay" over and over again. The men took the body on a procession through the village and the women stayed in the compound and wailed. I watched from a respectful distance and thought about how much I admire Gambians sense of community--no matter how close you were to this person he was someones son, someones husband and his death is worth a little time and wailing to support his family. I also appreciate how no one here questions participating: you just go, give a small charity to the family, because that's the right thing to do.
After all the wailing passed I put on a complet and went to watch the bride get made up in all of her wedding finery. Makeup here is definitely what we would describe as over the top. Painted on eyebrows, bright coloured eye shadow last popular in the 80s and fake eyelashes. Somehow though, maybe I've just lived here to long, but they manage to pull it off. Photos of the finished product and then we were off to her new house in her husbands compound. Usually there would be lots of singing and dancing but this was a quiet and respectful affair. She greeted all the assembled guests and they showed off all the gifts she had brought with her to the compound. We ate rice and coos coos and I went home to reflect.
Though every commented about it in passing everyone just accepted that the two programs just had to coexist. Just as grief and happiness can go hand and hand in the Gambia, so too I learned can a wedding and a funeral.
Sunday, April 3, 2011
What We Did On Our Winter Vacation
Written on April 1st, 2011 A special guest blog by Mam Lamin Cham aka David Green aka My Dad Most importantly, we made it. Three months and three attempts, but it worked. It did actually snow the morning we left but only flurries and we arrived on schedule to find Lindsey at the airport. We were all too excited for words. Then the fun really started. What does one do in the Gambia--The Smiling Coast of Africa? Settling In PCVs are given a chance to "settle in" so that's what we did. Three nights at Mama's--a typical local hotel run by a expatriate, with lots of walking and talking and meeting friends, and visiting Lindsey's haunts, both professional (the Peace Corps office, the bank) and personal (a local bar called with great irony, The Scottish Embassy). It was great fun to be a PCV again. Within 24 hours we were drinking beer (Julbrew) and talking about Gambian customs, digestion and food. From there we moved up country, local transport, to Lindsey's village--Kerr Jarga Jobe. Language and Culture In KJJ we were at Lindsey's mercy. There, she is Ramatoulie, and she speaks Wolof 24/7. It's amazing. She waggles her finger, shakes her pony tail and her butt , and makes jokes. The kids giggle as she tickles them, the teenagers demand to borrow her lotions and ointments, the old ladies joke about everything, and the moms correct her. Everyone chatters and joke. We spend hours--literally--walking about the dusty village, greeting everyone. Lindsey patiently explains culture, custom, language, good, agriculture and trades, while translating. We are in awe. Its hot, really hot, from 11 to 5 so we sit and chase spots of shade around the compound, drinking "attaya", green tea boiled, reboiled, and poured over and over again so it gets foamy and cool. Everyone welcomes us very warmly and naturally. They are honored to have us but treat us like family, just like they treat Ramatoulie. They take care of her in every way and she reciprocates. The kids are great--handsome and fun--and the Dad, Baay Waly, watches out for her and respects her at the same time. The whole trip is great but the four days in KJJ are really amazing. Culture and Development Being in KJJ with Lindsey we are reminded of so much, including the difficulties of cross-cultural understanding. She tells us of how she works with the skills center on planning, meetings, agendas, and organization. Then she walked in one day to find the staff cutting the meeting tables in half so they could use them for the sewing machines. She went home to read a book. A sensible reaction from all parties. This isn't easy stuff, but we keep trying to understand one another and that's what counts. Moving and Waiting Patience is key--we move, and wait, and wait and move. Everything is late and takes longer than anticipated. We leave KJJ to ride boats up and down the river. We look at birds which are incredible even for non-birders like us. Peggy and Lindsey catch up on girl time, which poor Peggy has surely missed for a year and a half. And we all think about Casey and we're sorry it didn't work out for him to come, but we think about him tearing it up in Peru and we know he'd be happy for us. Then She Ate What??? We spend quite a bit of time talking about, planning for, and eating food. Lindsey is decidedly no longer a vegetarian. She now renounces it completely and totally. She eats great quantities of everything and with great relish. She has dreams about bacon. Day-old goat is not an issue. She claims to have a super amoeba that trumps all the lesser amoebas. Even David blanches at the story about the monitor lizard--we are not making this up. And We Laughed and Laughed Most importantly, we had fun, and we laughed because ultimately that's what its all about. We got a brief but telling glimpse into another world and it was a lot of fun. We are grateful. The Gambians say good things are "nice-nice" and "its nice to be nice." Healthy sentiments. Jerejef--Thank you!
"Meaningful Work"
Written on March 19th, 2011 I spent last week at a Peace Corps The Gambia All Volunteer conference. We spent a lot of time talking about being a "high performance post," volunteers needing to have "meaningful work" and Peace Corps 50th Anniversary. All this talk, and an article from the New Yorker, written by Paul Hesser (just sent to me by my Dad) have caused me to pause and consider what the legacy of Peace Corps service is in Peace Corps countries, like the Gambia. I know it is probably a bit self-important to assume that my personal experience at one post can speak for the Peace Corps legacy as a whole. But in the spirit of 50th anniversary generalization I am going to take a risk and try my hand at answering the question--"What is the legacy of Peace Corps?" Since I cam to PC The Gambia I have heard a lot about PCV performance. When you research the Peace Corps you come across a handful of books and articles. These tell the stories of a small proportion of PCVs who, due to a combination of charisma, intelligence, infrastructure, resources and sheer good luck have served their communities in amazing ways and created visible change (they build schools, dig wells, start health centers) that they, or someone else, has been able to document and publicize. These volunteers are 1) amazing and 2) offer a great image of the Peace Corps to the world. But for every one volunteer who publish a book highlighting their amazing service there are hundreds whose service is not marked by measurable work or achievements but whose service and impact is no less important. I think PC has been around for 50 years because of both types of volunteers. One really cannot exist without the other. In my post alone we have volunteers with 9 to 5 jobs and projects to bring clean water to entire villages, we also have volunteers who spend their days socializing, go to sell milk at the local market with friends, play with babies and one volunteer who spent a large part of their service hanging out with one women, becoming such close friends that they were able to come out to the women before they left, in a country where homosexuality is extremely taboo. It is these stories of service that I most relate to and that I more and more am coming to see as Peace Corps 5o year legacy. I recognize the importance of meaningful work and a measurable impact as a way to ensure US taxpayer dollars are being spent effectively and that the talents of PCVs are being used but the reality is, often, we need to focus on the personal relationships we establish and see this as our legacy. I read somewhere recently that PCVs often get disillusioned with tradition notions of development and down play their impact, claiming "the people I served impacted me more than I changed them"--the author claimed that this all came from a place of unfounded modesty--I however can related to both these sentiments. And rather than coming from a place of modesty I think it all comes from a place which seeks to recognize the equality between the PCV and those they serve. I have an incredibly hard time receiving praise here because I feel my community members deserve equal (if not greater praise) everyday. So....taking all this into account, what is the 50 year legacy of Peace Corps according to Lindsey Green? As hippy-dippy as it may sound it is love and equality. If I leave anything behind I hope my family and community knows that I love and care for them. Despite the fact that I won some cosmic jackpot and was born an American it doesn't make me any better or worse than anyone else. By living in and becoming a member of a community PCVs attempt to serve from a place of equality rather than a place of outsider-ness or superiority. If the legacy of PC is anything it is that America is a country that produces many people who want to spread love and understanding through service. I would love to write a book about fundamentally changing the access to health care in my community but I would also be OK if my entire service could be summed up by simply drawing a big heart.
Monday, February 14, 2011
You Are Highly Welcome
Written on February 13th, 2011
There are a lot of things that I worry about when it comes to returning to America. Nose picking and spitting food (i.e. fish bones) on the ground while eating being two of them. I have also though about elements of professional life that are very different and how I will readjust--the most prominent being meetings. Let me highlight some aspects of the Gambian meeting (and let this serve as a warning to my potential future employees in America).
There are a lot of things that I worry about when it comes to returning to America. Nose picking and spitting food (i.e. fish bones) on the ground while eating being two of them. I have also though about elements of professional life that are very different and how I will readjust--the most prominent being meetings. Let me highlight some aspects of the Gambian meeting (and let this serve as a warning to my potential future employees in America).
- Starting Time: whenever someone gives me a time that a meeting is supposed to start I do a very intricate calculation in order to determine what time it will actually start. Factors to consider include whose supposed to attend the meeting, what topics are to be discussed, what day of the week it is, how often the group meeting usually meets and if lunch will be provided. Generally I take the proposed starting time as more of a suggestion of what time I should start to think about getting ready in my compound. This being said I am still usually the first to arrive and wait anywhere from 1 to 3 hours for the meeting to start. Hence my Peace Corps (and life) motto--"Bring a book."
- Agenda: A large portion of the "agenda" is reserved for people to give "remarks." Though this is a good practice everyone wants to talk so everyone gives their remarks which are usually very similar derivations of: greeting, thanking Allah for helping them meet, singing the praises of the group/previous speakers, giving advice to the group and relating a long and detailed story of how they came to join the group/attend the meeting. All of these remarks take up so much time that everyone is either exhausted or argumentative when the actual meetings business is commenced. For example at the meeting of skills center representatives I attended yesterday the remarks took from noon to 6 pm with a short prayer break. The only other business completed in this time was the chair reading the groups constitution in English and then translating it into Wolof. By 6 pm everyone was starving so we closed and ate lunch. (Yes, lunch at six o'clock at night, I was about ready to eat my arm) Then they decided to take a break and meet again from midnight to 3 am to plan for the next years activities (the main purpose for calling the meeting in the first place). I didn't make it all the way to 3 am and bowed out and went to bed at 2.
- Multi-Tasking: If I remember correctly it has been somewhat acceptable in America to multi-task during meetings i.e. check email on Blackberrys and respond. But beyond that everyone at least makes a show of paying attention. Here multi-tasking takes on a new meaning. Naps, reading books (usually this is just me), taking and making phone calls, hair braiding, brewing attaya, breastfeeding, playing games on cellphones are all common forms of multi-tasking during a Gambian meeting.
- Networking: In America you get a business card. In the Gambia you get this text message: "RAMATULIE DEFINATELY, ITS TODAY THAT I MEET U, BUT REALLY U ARE IN MY HEART. I REALLY LIKE U TO ACCEPT MY KINDLY LOVE. DAMALA NOB BU BAAX." Enough said.
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Entertain the People
Written on February 1, 2011
My experience with drama is very very minimal to say the very least. One line in two years of elementary school plays and a sixth grade turn as a man in the "Prince and the Pauper" has not an experienced actor made me. This past weekend however, lack of theatrical experience aside, I found myself organizing a drama tour with my peer health club. This past November six of my students acted in a drama on HIV/AIDS bike trek. Thanks to the extreme enthusiasm of a few teachers and the enjoyment of the students my group continued the drama and decided they wanted to take the drama to the villages from which the students come everyday to go to school. A few months later after revision and translation into Wolof myself, twenty students and six teachers spend a Saturday going to four different communities and presenting a thirty minute lecture and drama on HIV/AIDS addressing how the disease works, transmission, protection and stigma. We were quite a sight rolling into each village with a huge stereo set and speakers and all the students crammed into the back of a pick-up truck. Once in each village we would set up the speakers and blast music in an attempt to attract the attention of as many villagers as possible. Mr. Bah, one of the peer health club advisers, would implore all of the students to "entertain the people." This manifested itself as dancing, clapping and yelling. Once we had amassed a crowd of men, women and hundreds of small children the program would start. Four students gave a lecture on HIV supported with visual aides they made themselves. Afterwards the six students would act the drama called, "I'm Not a Sickness I'm a Son" in Wolof and the program ended with more clapping and dancing. After going through this in four villages we were all exhausted but the students seemed extremely energized by the village sensitization. For both the students and their parents, friends and family in their home villages it was very powerful to see/show what they've learned in school about HIV. This topic is still very taboo in the Gambia, as is talking about sex, so for the students to talk about these topics openly in front of their elders was difficult. If anything is to change however about the attitude toward HIV there needs to be a conversation and the first step to start that is for people to start feeling comfortable to say "sex," "HIV" and "condom" out loud. I hope in some small part our program helped start that conversation.
My experience with drama is very very minimal to say the very least. One line in two years of elementary school plays and a sixth grade turn as a man in the "Prince and the Pauper" has not an experienced actor made me. This past weekend however, lack of theatrical experience aside, I found myself organizing a drama tour with my peer health club. This past November six of my students acted in a drama on HIV/AIDS bike trek. Thanks to the extreme enthusiasm of a few teachers and the enjoyment of the students my group continued the drama and decided they wanted to take the drama to the villages from which the students come everyday to go to school. A few months later after revision and translation into Wolof myself, twenty students and six teachers spend a Saturday going to four different communities and presenting a thirty minute lecture and drama on HIV/AIDS addressing how the disease works, transmission, protection and stigma. We were quite a sight rolling into each village with a huge stereo set and speakers and all the students crammed into the back of a pick-up truck. Once in each village we would set up the speakers and blast music in an attempt to attract the attention of as many villagers as possible. Mr. Bah, one of the peer health club advisers, would implore all of the students to "entertain the people." This manifested itself as dancing, clapping and yelling. Once we had amassed a crowd of men, women and hundreds of small children the program would start. Four students gave a lecture on HIV supported with visual aides they made themselves. Afterwards the six students would act the drama called, "I'm Not a Sickness I'm a Son" in Wolof and the program ended with more clapping and dancing. After going through this in four villages we were all exhausted but the students seemed extremely energized by the village sensitization. For both the students and their parents, friends and family in their home villages it was very powerful to see/show what they've learned in school about HIV. This topic is still very taboo in the Gambia, as is talking about sex, so for the students to talk about these topics openly in front of their elders was difficult. If anything is to change however about the attitude toward HIV there needs to be a conversation and the first step to start that is for people to start feeling comfortable to say "sex," "HIV" and "condom" out loud. I hope in some small part our program helped start that conversation.
Friday, February 4, 2011
Get Tested!!
Written on January 27th, 2010
Today I want to tell you all about my friend Abdullahi.
Abdullahi is one of my neighbors in KJJ. I've known him since about my second day living here when he helped me fix my bike tire. He's a husband and father of five. He's active with the skills center, often comes to our literacy classes and is a self taught English speaker, he's never been to school.
All of this being said I don't usually spend that much time hanging out with 'Lai though wherever he sees me hes happy to see me and likewise. A few months ago when I came back to KJJ after finishing the HIV/AIDs bike trek he came by my compound and we were talking about the bike trek and some of the things we had taught the students about HIV. We talked a lot about how a very important way to protect yourself is to know your HIV status and to go for Voluntary Counseling and Testing (VCT) which is available for free in some health centers. At the end of our conversation he mentioned that he wanted to go get tested so he could know his status. I told him that I would support him as much as possible in going to get tested and we agreed that whenever he was ready I would go with him to Kerewan to get tested. After that, I got really busy with schools and holidays and Lai got busy in the fields. A few weeks ago however he approached me again about going and we made a plan to go today.
At 9 am Lai showed up in my compound dressed in a nice white complet and all ready to go to Kerewan. As we waited by the side of the road for a car we talked about some of the reasons AIDS is a problem in Africa/The Gambia and some of the things that have reduced the prevalence rate in the US--like condom use and people getting tested, both men and women.
Testing in the Gambia is a huge problem because of the high stigma associated with having HIV. All pregnant women are asked to go get tested as a means to counter mother to child transmission and therefore the majority of testing comes from pregnant women. Testing of men however is practically non-existent and for men to voluntarily go for testing is uncommon.
This is what makes Lai such a gem. He decided to go get tested on his own so that he could know because, "It's good to know about yourself." Once we got to the health center things were a breeze. I had met the man who does VCT coincidentally the week before so as always in the Gambia it was helpful to already have that relationship. It was a little nerve wracking going through the process with Lai and I could tell he was nervous also. I had to cover his eyes when they drew his blood and when they gave him his negative result we high 5'd and hugged--two things Gambians don't do. After it was all over Lai told me how happy he was to know his status and beyond that how he wanted to tell all his friend about his experience so they wouldn't be afraid to go get tested. Within two hours of being back in KJJ he had talked to three people who now want to get tested and just wanted me to call the doctor to make sure they had as easy a time as him.
I am so awestruck and humbled by the quiet determination of my friend. He has no reason to be so concerned about this other than he just wants to do the right thing and protect himself, his family and his village.
I sometimes would get the sense in America that people saw HIV testing as unnecessary, something for druggies and promiscuous young people, but if my experience with my friend Lai taught me anything its that we should all know our status if for no other reason than as a support to people around the world, like him, who are determined to fight stigma, raise awareness and live their life, without fear, with dignity and honesty. So I urge all of you to go get tested, know your status and think of my friend Lai who really is a shining example of courage and selflessness.
Today I want to tell you all about my friend Abdullahi.
Abdullahi is one of my neighbors in KJJ. I've known him since about my second day living here when he helped me fix my bike tire. He's a husband and father of five. He's active with the skills center, often comes to our literacy classes and is a self taught English speaker, he's never been to school.
All of this being said I don't usually spend that much time hanging out with 'Lai though wherever he sees me hes happy to see me and likewise. A few months ago when I came back to KJJ after finishing the HIV/AIDs bike trek he came by my compound and we were talking about the bike trek and some of the things we had taught the students about HIV. We talked a lot about how a very important way to protect yourself is to know your HIV status and to go for Voluntary Counseling and Testing (VCT) which is available for free in some health centers. At the end of our conversation he mentioned that he wanted to go get tested so he could know his status. I told him that I would support him as much as possible in going to get tested and we agreed that whenever he was ready I would go with him to Kerewan to get tested. After that, I got really busy with schools and holidays and Lai got busy in the fields. A few weeks ago however he approached me again about going and we made a plan to go today.
At 9 am Lai showed up in my compound dressed in a nice white complet and all ready to go to Kerewan. As we waited by the side of the road for a car we talked about some of the reasons AIDS is a problem in Africa/The Gambia and some of the things that have reduced the prevalence rate in the US--like condom use and people getting tested, both men and women.
Testing in the Gambia is a huge problem because of the high stigma associated with having HIV. All pregnant women are asked to go get tested as a means to counter mother to child transmission and therefore the majority of testing comes from pregnant women. Testing of men however is practically non-existent and for men to voluntarily go for testing is uncommon.
This is what makes Lai such a gem. He decided to go get tested on his own so that he could know because, "It's good to know about yourself." Once we got to the health center things were a breeze. I had met the man who does VCT coincidentally the week before so as always in the Gambia it was helpful to already have that relationship. It was a little nerve wracking going through the process with Lai and I could tell he was nervous also. I had to cover his eyes when they drew his blood and when they gave him his negative result we high 5'd and hugged--two things Gambians don't do. After it was all over Lai told me how happy he was to know his status and beyond that how he wanted to tell all his friend about his experience so they wouldn't be afraid to go get tested. Within two hours of being back in KJJ he had talked to three people who now want to get tested and just wanted me to call the doctor to make sure they had as easy a time as him.
I am so awestruck and humbled by the quiet determination of my friend. He has no reason to be so concerned about this other than he just wants to do the right thing and protect himself, his family and his village.
I sometimes would get the sense in America that people saw HIV testing as unnecessary, something for druggies and promiscuous young people, but if my experience with my friend Lai taught me anything its that we should all know our status if for no other reason than as a support to people around the world, like him, who are determined to fight stigma, raise awareness and live their life, without fear, with dignity and honesty. So I urge all of you to go get tested, know your status and think of my friend Lai who really is a shining example of courage and selflessness.
"What is pus??"
Written on January 21st, 2011
Yesterday I spent the morning at the senior secondary school attending a lecture on Tuberculosis, HIV/AIDS and STIs with my peer health club students. It was very much a fly by the seat of your pants session. Clearly the group that organized it had some extra funds they wanted to use up so they decided to call in a local nurse from Kerewan to talk to the students. Don't get me wrong, this is all well and good, well intentioned and much needed but as I've noticed lately with my work here, myself and the people I work with sometimes enthusiasm over the different that will be made overrides planning and consideration. I'm certainly guilty of getting so wrapped up and excited that I don't really take the time to consider important factors like my audience, their needs and sustainability.
This lecture came after almost six months of work on my part and the part of another agency to educate the students abut HIV/AIDS. Something we hadn't talked about at all is TB, so a session just on that would have been great but throwing STIs, HIV and TB together just caused a lot of confusion and repetition of information. I hardly could follow the presenter so I'm sure that the students didn't do much better. Because the presentation was so bad I found myself zoning out and thinking about what conclusions I can draw after a year of attending events at Gambian schools.
I think my most interesting observation has been that though all Gambian students are English language learners, i.e. they don't speak English at home, teaching and curriculum here is not geared towards ESL. Though English is the official language of the Gambia in reality so little of the population is literate in/speaks English that assuming that students will learn effectively without any attention given to their English learning status is really just setting them up for failure. The natural reaction to this system is for students to just memorize what they learn which means they can answer questions if they've memorized them but have very little ability for original or abstract thought. In addition asking questions is seen not as a tool for learning but a failure of the students. At this lecture the presenter threw out hundreds of very scientific terminology for STIs (including pus) but refused to answer students questions when they raised their hands asking them to write their questions down for the end of the lesson, effectively telling them not to ask any questions.
For me, coming from a background where inquiry and questions were celebrated this orientation is both extremely frustrating and discouraging. I wonder how many things would be different here if people celebrated rather than demonized what we don't know.
Yesterday I spent the morning at the senior secondary school attending a lecture on Tuberculosis, HIV/AIDS and STIs with my peer health club students. It was very much a fly by the seat of your pants session. Clearly the group that organized it had some extra funds they wanted to use up so they decided to call in a local nurse from Kerewan to talk to the students. Don't get me wrong, this is all well and good, well intentioned and much needed but as I've noticed lately with my work here, myself and the people I work with sometimes enthusiasm over the different that will be made overrides planning and consideration. I'm certainly guilty of getting so wrapped up and excited that I don't really take the time to consider important factors like my audience, their needs and sustainability.
This lecture came after almost six months of work on my part and the part of another agency to educate the students abut HIV/AIDS. Something we hadn't talked about at all is TB, so a session just on that would have been great but throwing STIs, HIV and TB together just caused a lot of confusion and repetition of information. I hardly could follow the presenter so I'm sure that the students didn't do much better. Because the presentation was so bad I found myself zoning out and thinking about what conclusions I can draw after a year of attending events at Gambian schools.
I think my most interesting observation has been that though all Gambian students are English language learners, i.e. they don't speak English at home, teaching and curriculum here is not geared towards ESL. Though English is the official language of the Gambia in reality so little of the population is literate in/speaks English that assuming that students will learn effectively without any attention given to their English learning status is really just setting them up for failure. The natural reaction to this system is for students to just memorize what they learn which means they can answer questions if they've memorized them but have very little ability for original or abstract thought. In addition asking questions is seen not as a tool for learning but a failure of the students. At this lecture the presenter threw out hundreds of very scientific terminology for STIs (including pus) but refused to answer students questions when they raised their hands asking them to write their questions down for the end of the lesson, effectively telling them not to ask any questions.
For me, coming from a background where inquiry and questions were celebrated this orientation is both extremely frustrating and discouraging. I wonder how many things would be different here if people celebrated rather than demonized what we don't know.
You Can Help!!!
It's a very very exciting day for me here in the Gambia. For the past few months I have been working to develop a health and nutrition education competition for the women in my village. My goal is to provide them with basic health and nutrition education in a fun and interactive way. They get points for participating in the different elements of the competition and at the end we will have a big community celebration where the women will share what they have learned and win prizes. Most importantly the women in my village, many of whom have never had the opportunity to go to school, will get a chance to educate themselves and be seen as resource people by the community. I've spoken a ot about how much the women in my village inspire me. But after a year in Kerr Jarga these women are also my friends. We laugh together, cook together and talk about life, theirs and mine, this is my small way of trying to help them and thank them for their friendship and support. I am truly humbled by the way they have all embraced me.So where do y'all come in? Unfortunately though health knowledge is free running this competition will not be free. So I am trying to raise money for my project through Peace Corps Partnership. A program where people can go to the Peace Corps website and donate to my project. I would really appreciate any support you all could provide. The total I need to raise is $764.79 so every little bit will help. A ot of you have asked me how you can help me in my work here and this is a way that you really can make a difference in the lives of the amazing women of Kerr Jarga. I promise to keep you all updated on the competition with pictures and blogs.So.....if my pitch has peaked your interest you can follow the link below to donate!
https://www.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=donate.contribute.projDetail&projdesc=635-069
https://www.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=donate.contribute.projDetail&projdesc=635-069
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