Written on January 27th, 2010
Being sick is an inevitable, but unglamorous, aspect of life here as a PCV in The Gambia. Yet it is something that I feel like I would not really be compelled to write about due to its inherent messiness. Today was my first day being sick in village. Nothing serious, just a combination of a long bike ride in the hot sun, dehydration and eating of some questionable meat and rice. I woke up in the middle of the night every hour on the hour to go spend some quality time with my pit latrine. And once I woke up this morning I knew that my best option was really to just stay in bed. Six hours of lying in bed later I'm feeling better and as an indication I have begun to analyze the cultural aspects of being sick here.
In the US when you're sick its usually a given that people leave you alone, and allow you to rejoin the world at your own pace. I would not say that the same goes here. Notions of privacy are pretty non-existent. Though I had closed my front door as I lay in bed everyone and her mother from the village stuck their head into my open window to say matter of factly,
"Ramatoulie you are sick."
Yes that is generally what's happening when I'm sprawled across my bed with my arm flopped over my face. Not only did I have many visitors make astute observations of my invalid status, also at one point three small children were peering through the window at me as I tried to sleep, at another point one of my friends Ida came to my window beseeching me to buy panketos (small greasy doughnuts).
At around 3 my loud second mom Sarjo yelled at me through the window to: get up, open the door and eat rice. I opened the door, took the rice from her and sat in my backyard regarding the bowl for a while. I considered my options: take a couple spoonfuls, throw it down my pit latrine and pretend I had eaten or attempt to explain that I was the kind of sick where eating really only makes things worse. I decided to explain that today my stomach (not me mind you) didn't want food. She tisked and sent me back to bed. An hour later she tried to get me to drink strong sugary attaya but again I successfully bowed out by blaming my stomach.
Aside from being force fed while being sick the second interesting aspect of being sick here is the way you talk about being sick. In the US I would say "I feel like crap. I want to hurl." and you would nod and leave me alone.
Here people are so superstitious that even saying you are sick is kind of frowned upon. You say things like, "My head hurts," "My stomach is running," "My body is tired," or "I have a little malaria today." When someone asks you if your better you say you are, even if you really aren't/ This can make it all very confusing because I end up saying, "Yes I'm better, no I'm not sick my stomach is just running." and then flopping on my bed.
But I guess the best survival method is laughter and it is all pretty hilarious especially when you've made it out the other end.
Friday, February 5, 2010
Things I Did This Week that Count as Doing My Job
Written on January 24th, 2010
1) weighed adorable (and sometimes screaming out of fear of me) babies
2) went to a naming ceremony, held a 1 week old baby, watched its head be shaved, ate lots of food, danced
3) drank attaya (a strong tea served in a shot glass with lots of sugar)
4) shelled peanuts
5) took a beautiful bike ride on a packed red dirt road among baobab and tall grass
6) got mistaken for a former, male, tall and 1/2 Brazilian volunteer and had to explain in Wolof, while riding a bike, that I was not in fact Pateh
7) filled out birth records--probably not legal or helpful
8) ate lots of icees
9) sat under a big tree and read
10) went to the market
11) did I say drink attaya--I do that a lot
12) fetched water
13) went to a Gambian style track meet--one event was racing with buckets of water on your head
14) saw a man walking his goat on a leash while riding his bike
15) made french fries
16) eating oranges, bean sandwiches and drinking semi-cold Coke
1) weighed adorable (and sometimes screaming out of fear of me) babies
2) went to a naming ceremony, held a 1 week old baby, watched its head be shaved, ate lots of food, danced
3) drank attaya (a strong tea served in a shot glass with lots of sugar)
4) shelled peanuts
5) took a beautiful bike ride on a packed red dirt road among baobab and tall grass
6) got mistaken for a former, male, tall and 1/2 Brazilian volunteer and had to explain in Wolof, while riding a bike, that I was not in fact Pateh
7) filled out birth records--probably not legal or helpful
8) ate lots of icees
9) sat under a big tree and read
10) went to the market
11) did I say drink attaya--I do that a lot
12) fetched water
13) went to a Gambian style track meet--one event was racing with buckets of water on your head
14) saw a man walking his goat on a leash while riding his bike
15) made french fries
16) eating oranges, bean sandwiches and drinking semi-cold Coke
The Rabbit Hole
Written on January 15th, 2010
Sometimes living here things happen that I don't find particularly remarkable or funny but that cause me to pause and think "people back home would get a kick out of this." Today was one of those days. Since I moved into my house at my permanent site there has been a small hole in the corner of my small backyard. I didn't think much of it other then choosing to place my plastic lawn chair not next to it because you never know when a small hole might become big and I didn't want to deal with that or exacerbate it by sitting near it.
Anyways, the other day my host father was in my backyard for another reason and noticed it. He explained to me that it was a rabbit hole and then, as far as I could understand with my elementary Wolof, he said that he would fix it later.
Well later was this morning/evening. He began by pouring and entire bedong (jerry can) of water into the hole. Right at the end a rabbit popped out of the hole, I screamed and he dropped the bedong but we didn't catch it. The sighting emboldened my host father however and he proceeded to pour three more bedongs into the hole. This was in no way a successful approach for drowning the rabbit out--it merely enlarged the hole. At this point I was 45 minutes late to bike 10 kilometers for a batik making workshop so we had to leave the rabbit for the day. To ensure that it didn't leave the hole he stuffed it with two pairs of old pants. Upon my return this evening the rabbit operation recommenced. Our tactics didn't change much to begin with, we had just attracted more spectators. My backyard is small (probably 2 yards by 5 yards) but there were six to ten people crowded around a hole in one corner--like the Gambian version of a clown car.
Two bedongs later new tactics were introduced. Neem leaves (a bitter/semi-poisonous leaf used for many things here including mosquito repellent) were pounded and stuffed in the hole in the hopes that the "bitter taste" combined with the water would draw it out.
No luck.
Next a pick/stick was taken to the hole and it was significantly enlarged. Still no luck. Also, I failed to mention it but all of this happened after sunset by flashlight. Anyways, defeated my host father stuffed the hole with the old pants, filled it with dirt and we called off the search.
As I write now I sit at a a safe distance from the hole for fear that (1) it might all collapse as I doubt the structural integrity of two pairs of pants, (2) the rabbit might finally come out and I know it won't be happy. I know I wouldn't be six bedongs of water later.
Sometimes living here things happen that I don't find particularly remarkable or funny but that cause me to pause and think "people back home would get a kick out of this." Today was one of those days. Since I moved into my house at my permanent site there has been a small hole in the corner of my small backyard. I didn't think much of it other then choosing to place my plastic lawn chair not next to it because you never know when a small hole might become big and I didn't want to deal with that or exacerbate it by sitting near it.
Anyways, the other day my host father was in my backyard for another reason and noticed it. He explained to me that it was a rabbit hole and then, as far as I could understand with my elementary Wolof, he said that he would fix it later.
Well later was this morning/evening. He began by pouring and entire bedong (jerry can) of water into the hole. Right at the end a rabbit popped out of the hole, I screamed and he dropped the bedong but we didn't catch it. The sighting emboldened my host father however and he proceeded to pour three more bedongs into the hole. This was in no way a successful approach for drowning the rabbit out--it merely enlarged the hole. At this point I was 45 minutes late to bike 10 kilometers for a batik making workshop so we had to leave the rabbit for the day. To ensure that it didn't leave the hole he stuffed it with two pairs of old pants. Upon my return this evening the rabbit operation recommenced. Our tactics didn't change much to begin with, we had just attracted more spectators. My backyard is small (probably 2 yards by 5 yards) but there were six to ten people crowded around a hole in one corner--like the Gambian version of a clown car.
Two bedongs later new tactics were introduced. Neem leaves (a bitter/semi-poisonous leaf used for many things here including mosquito repellent) were pounded and stuffed in the hole in the hopes that the "bitter taste" combined with the water would draw it out.
No luck.
Next a pick/stick was taken to the hole and it was significantly enlarged. Still no luck. Also, I failed to mention it but all of this happened after sunset by flashlight. Anyways, defeated my host father stuffed the hole with the old pants, filled it with dirt and we called off the search.
As I write now I sit at a a safe distance from the hole for fear that (1) it might all collapse as I doubt the structural integrity of two pairs of pants, (2) the rabbit might finally come out and I know it won't be happy. I know I wouldn't be six bedongs of water later.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
From PCT to PCV
On Friday my training group swore in as Peace Corps Volunteers. The ceremony was held at the US ambassadors house here in the city and it was a really special day. It felt a little bit like high school or college graduation, especially because we all wore outfits made in matching African fabric (and we looked damn good if I do say so myself.)
Myself and Devin (a fellow Saare Samba trainee) were selected to give the trainee remarks; me in Wolof and Devin in English.
So here's our speech:
We welcome you this afternoon on behalf of the health and community development and environment and natural resource management trainees. Thank you for joining us today as we celebrate swearing in as Peace Corps Volunteers. It is with sincere gratitude and great pride that we address you on a day that marks the beginning of what we hope will be a full and beneficial two years of service to the communities of this beautiful country.
It is difficult to explain the wide range of emotions we have experienced on a regular basis. Or how humbling it can be to relive the same world a second time, starting anew as Mandinka, Fula, or Wolof. We will do our best, and if our speech gets a little too inspirational for you just blame our President, Barack Obama, or Oprah – I mean Lucia Cruz.
Before coming to the Gambia, one of the hardest parts of leaving home was the anxiety we felt about what we might encounter when we got here. We worried about getting sick, not having electricity, being lonely, and eating strange food. But our friends and family said we will save the world. And we are, with every cup of attaya we drink.
Now that we are finally here we are realizing that we were right all along. We got sick, and then we got over it. There is no electricity, and we’ve never appreciated the daylight more. Of course we get lonely, seeing as there are always atleast 50 children around us at all times. And the food? Rather strange. Especially the cheeseburgers, calzones, and macaroni and cheese we got in Sara Samba.
But besides confirming our suspicions, this training experience has taught us things we never expected to know. We have learned that despite the many different stories and many different roads that have brought us here today, it is because we share a common goal and a common philosophy by which we try to live our lives: that our gifts are many and our opportunities are boundless; that to whom much is given, much is expected; and that to live a full, important life is not easy or simple. It can actually get rather messy.
Dirty feet, ram sacrifice, unfortunate linguistic misunderstandings, bird decapitation by younger host brothers, and dusty bike rides followed by even dustier breakdowns have tested our patience and drastically altered our standards.
Though each of us has encountered something different, it is impossible not to relate to one another’s stories and observations.
One trainee spent the first few days in village asking his host family what everything was called and writing it all down in his notebook – resolved to retain as much vocabulary as possible. He began using his terms everywhere until one day at lunch his LCF asked him why he was saying “come breastfeed” instead of “come eat”
Another trainee was enjoying throwing a baby up in the air while the mother calmly said what the trainee thought meant, “he’s loving it – do it again.” Only later discovering that she had been saying over and over again, very patiently, “He doesn’t like that. You’re scaring him.”
We have learned that having a sense of humor can go a long, long way, like 30 k of walking through the bush long.
We have learned about the emotion of love, and that even in your 60’s, young Gambian men want to marry you.
We have learned that it’s not necessarily a good idea to follow baboons around. We have learned the power of seeing the sun rise and the sun set in the same day.
We have learned what it’s like to be a friend, a neighbor, and a family member rather than a tourist. We have wondered if our families are talking about us and learned that yes, they are, and it’s about how much we ate for breakfast.
For all these lessons learned, we much thank those who have helped us get to this point. We would not be here today without the support and encouragement of: our incredible LCFs, who held our hands, let us cry, and did more for us than anyone has had to do since we were six; The amazing Peace Corps Medical Staff, who tirelessly explained the best way to manage diarrhea, over and over again; the training manager, who provided a calming presence despite a hectic schedule; the assistant training manager, who always made us laugh; the technical trainers, for teaching us the subtle nuances of Gambian culture and romance; the drivers, for safely navigating the mean streets of this country and for their liberal horn usage; the Peace Corps Office Staff, for keeping the paperwork Out of our hands; and the volunteer trainers, for becoming our friends and mentors while opening our eyes and making the unknown a lot less scary.
A special thank you also to our host families for welcoming us as new Gambian sons and daughters. All the success we experience in the next two years will be in large part due to the foundation of language established on their bantabas, around their fires, and while sharing their food bowls.
The poet Mary Oliver says, “Everyday I walk out into the world to be dazzled, then reflective.” It is an honor to be a part of a group of people who are so enamored with the world, with diversity, with justice, with opportunity, and who are equally reflective about our responsibility to help those around us better themselves and their communities.
We have learned so much already about resiliency, acceptance, patience, small pleasures, flexibility, and finding the humor in every situation. And in these areas we have excelled.
As we look ahead, we hope to excel in many other ways, especially those that bring lasting benefit and sustainability to the people that will become our families, and the places that will become our homes. If the next two years are as fulfilling as the past two months, it is obvious that we have much to look forward to. Thank You.
Monday, January 4, 2010
Breast Milk is the Best Milk
We are quickly approaching the end of our eight weeks of technical and language training and will swear in as new Peace Corps Volunteers on Friday January 8th. It is really exciting and also a bit surreal that this day is finally almost here and something I have wanted to be for so long is what I'm actually becoming. It is truly staggering how many great changes can happen in ones life so quickly and I am truly grateful that, much to my surprise, 2010 finds me as a Peace Corps Volunteer in The Gambia.
One way that we have broken up the stress of the past 8 weeks was engaging in a "Battle of the Sectors" yesterday. My training group is made up of 35 people who will be serving as volunteers in two of Peace Corps the Gambia's three sectors: Health and Community Development (HCD) and Environment and Natural Resource Management (ENRM). Each group presented, creatively, three topics which they thought might provide opportunities for cross-sectoral work, i.e. things that are pretty easy to understand and that we could do projects together on.
My HCD group did a presentation on the importance of exclusive breastfeeding (hence this blogs title). To convey our message we did a cheer leading skit spelling out:
The first 6 months, breastfeed only
Immune system comes from Colostrum
The perfect food
Suckle, suckle; there's always more
Feed every 1-3 hours
Only breastfeed, it's free!!!
Remember Moms, eat lots of protein, fats and vegetables
Though formula is from America, it can cause infection
Other weaning foods can be introduced after 6 months
Take your baby to the RCH clinic
Solidifies the bond between mother and child
[In between each line we sang, "Hey yo breast milk is the best milk."]
Not surprisingly, based on our awesome cheer leading skills and creativity, HCD won the battle.
Later I was talking to my Dad on the phone, after scrubbing the be-jesus out of my clothes while doing laundry, I was telling him about our presentation. He told me that when he and my mom were Peace Corps Volunteers in Ghana, 30 years ago, a married couple who had beautiful voices and played the guitar made a song entitled "Breast is Best."
It was funny that 30 years ago Peace Corps volunteers in West Africa were dealing with the exact same development issues and addressing them in much the same way. This also got me thinking about development in general, the type of work I will do as a Peace Corps volunteer and what my overall goals are for my two years of service.
Many of the issues I will work on as an HCD volunteer are really basic but vital for successful development of the Gambia. There things that we don't necessarily think about everyday but when they don't happen, especially here, they have extremely detrimental effects. Some of the big HCD issues are hand washing, using mosquito nets and wearing Neem cream (a natural mosquito repellent) to prevent malaria, exclusive breastfeeding and environmental sanitation to prevent diarrhea. They are individually such small issues but their impact is huge.
Until my Dad told me about campaigns for exclusive breastfeeding in Ghana 30 years ago I hadn't really considered how long change can really take. I'm by no means discouraged by this fact but rather it makes me truly consider the impact of my actions, of every casual conversation I have with the people in my village.
I just finished reading The Tipping Point and if Gladwell's theory is true it is really important as a Peace Corps Volunteer to keep saturating Gambian society with these very basic messages. You have to hope that every additional person we teach, will in turn teach many others and that together we will move Gambia as a whole closer to the tipping point where these issues will no longer have such a powerful impact on Gambia's capacity for development. If a Gambian family doesn't have to worry about managing their children's diarrhea or a father isn't wiped out of working for weeks because of malaria than there is a much greater capacity for growth and development.
One way that we have broken up the stress of the past 8 weeks was engaging in a "Battle of the Sectors" yesterday. My training group is made up of 35 people who will be serving as volunteers in two of Peace Corps the Gambia's three sectors: Health and Community Development (HCD) and Environment and Natural Resource Management (ENRM). Each group presented, creatively, three topics which they thought might provide opportunities for cross-sectoral work, i.e. things that are pretty easy to understand and that we could do projects together on.
My HCD group did a presentation on the importance of exclusive breastfeeding (hence this blogs title). To convey our message we did a cheer leading skit spelling out:
The first 6 months, breastfeed only
Immune system comes from Colostrum
The perfect food
Suckle, suckle; there's always more
Feed every 1-3 hours
Only breastfeed, it's free!!!
Remember Moms, eat lots of protein, fats and vegetables
Though formula is from America, it can cause infection
Other weaning foods can be introduced after 6 months
Take your baby to the RCH clinic
Solidifies the bond between mother and child
[In between each line we sang, "Hey yo breast milk is the best milk."]
Not surprisingly, based on our awesome cheer leading skills and creativity, HCD won the battle.
Later I was talking to my Dad on the phone, after scrubbing the be-jesus out of my clothes while doing laundry, I was telling him about our presentation. He told me that when he and my mom were Peace Corps Volunteers in Ghana, 30 years ago, a married couple who had beautiful voices and played the guitar made a song entitled "Breast is Best."
It was funny that 30 years ago Peace Corps volunteers in West Africa were dealing with the exact same development issues and addressing them in much the same way. This also got me thinking about development in general, the type of work I will do as a Peace Corps volunteer and what my overall goals are for my two years of service.
Many of the issues I will work on as an HCD volunteer are really basic but vital for successful development of the Gambia. There things that we don't necessarily think about everyday but when they don't happen, especially here, they have extremely detrimental effects. Some of the big HCD issues are hand washing, using mosquito nets and wearing Neem cream (a natural mosquito repellent) to prevent malaria, exclusive breastfeeding and environmental sanitation to prevent diarrhea. They are individually such small issues but their impact is huge.
Until my Dad told me about campaigns for exclusive breastfeeding in Ghana 30 years ago I hadn't really considered how long change can really take. I'm by no means discouraged by this fact but rather it makes me truly consider the impact of my actions, of every casual conversation I have with the people in my village.
I just finished reading The Tipping Point and if Gladwell's theory is true it is really important as a Peace Corps Volunteer to keep saturating Gambian society with these very basic messages. You have to hope that every additional person we teach, will in turn teach many others and that together we will move Gambia as a whole closer to the tipping point where these issues will no longer have such a powerful impact on Gambia's capacity for development. If a Gambian family doesn't have to worry about managing their children's diarrhea or a father isn't wiped out of working for weeks because of malaria than there is a much greater capacity for growth and development.
8 Things that Happened in the 8 Weeks I was Without the Internet
1) I became a resident of Saare Samba:
My training village was a truly magical experience. Saare Samba is small, tucked away 5 k off the main road and nestled in the "armpit" of the Casamance/Gambia boarder. It is the kind of place where everyone knows every ones business and you are truly welcome everywhere. The pencha (big wooden bench) under a large mango tree was the perfect place to relax, the water tap a place to socialize and I literally could not go 5 feet without someone calling my name. Speaking of....
2) I Changed my name:
Well not really but I adopted a Gambian name- Ramata (which at my permanent site has been changed to Ramatoulie). One of our first days in village we had a naming ceremony where we were wrapped in a white cotton shawl, our head were mock shaved and we were given new names by our host family. Therefore we all have namesakes "tomas". Mine was my host mother, there is really no easy way to describe my relationship with her. After she gave me her name I got to know her more and even though we can barely communicate I am in awe of her. She works hard, loves and cares for her family and has a great sense of humor. She could do pretty dead on impressions of all of the Peace Corps trainees in the village.
3) Thanksgiving in The Gambia:
We spent Thanksgiving all together at a tourist camp called Tendaba where we did all of our technical training. Thanksgiving was definitely an experience. We had been able to ask for ingredients in advance to make our favorite T-day recipes so I ended up making apple crisp with the help of others. But the wackiest experience happened in the making of the corn bread. The corn meal boxes had little white worms in them so we had to sift through them. We had an assembly line of plates and spoons, smashing down the cornmeal to see if worms crawled out and then removing them. It took some real teamwork but in the end the corn bread was really good!
4) An Encore to Tobaski:
The day after Thanksgiving was Tobaski, a huge Muslim holiday where each family sacrifices and eats a ram. I experienced this holiday before when I lived in Dakar but experiencing it in the village was really different. Most families took 3 days off from working in the fields. As my host father, Ousman, said, "The first day we only eat, the second day we enjoy." We did eat, almost an entire ram and we did enjoy dancing by moonlight and drinking attaya. I figured out the reason you have a 3rd day off because the third day everyone is sick from eating and enjoying. I, and my pit latrine, were luckily spared.
5) We all Went a bit Crazy:
It would not be doing justice to my experience of the last 8 weeks if I didn't talk about my mental experience. Imagine being reverted to a 3 year old status at best at 23 years old. Learning a new language is not easy and neither is being completely immersed in a new and completely different culture. I had no doubt that I would adapt and adjust but still there were some moments when I wished I could do more than greet people and express basic needs like and overly verbose 3 year old.
The stress of it all caused us to find some very small/strange things instantly hilarious. Like figuring out how to use the word "waame" which means "unpredictable meteorological phenomenon." And the day that while studying negation in Wolof class we figured out how to say, "You don't know me, I'm crazy." In wolof--a phrase I promptly heard my training mate Wells yell at his little sister when she was bugging him.
6) Imparting American Culture:
One goal of Peace Corps is to teach other about America and its people. Here's how I'm doing my part-
* I gave my host brother Talla a singing greeting card that sings about dancing. Using my broken Wolof I translated the lyrics and he carried it around calling it his radio. Something most of us would have quickly disposed of has given him endless pleasure.
* I taught my host brothers and sisters "Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes" and "The Macarana." The latter they had trouble pronouncing so they keep calling it the "Macaroni"
* I got a paint your own menorah in my care package from Beth and used it as an opportunity to teach my host sisters and brothers how to paint. They loved painting it and it is now hanging on the wall in my very Muslim host fathers room--oh irony!
7) Getting Lost:
I was able to spend Christmas with all of the trainees at Tendaba. Peace Corps was sure to provide us with lots of activities so we would not spiral into home sickness. One activity, on Christmas Eve, was the Marathon March. The Marathon March is supposed to be a 27 k hike through mud flats, brush, river and rice fields, making a circle. But for our group walking for 27 k and about 7 hours would have been to easy. Instead less than half way through our hike the guide led us into really tall (over 7 feet) grass and promptly got us lost. We were trying to get to the river (Gambia's largest natural resource) but we couldn't find it. The guide would climb up in a tree, look both ways and just look perplexed. Not a good sign. So we wandered around lost in the grass for 4 hours. Back tracked to find our way out and then walked back the way we had come, never reaching the river. All in all we were walking about 10 hours and walked about 30 k. The upshot was I slept like a baby that night and was completely justified in spending all of Christmas day lying by the pool reading.
8) I Live Here:
The past few days I finally visited my permanent site, i.e. the village I will call home for the next 2 years. My village is Ker Jarga Jobe on Gambia's North Bank about 30 k from the ferry to Banjul. The village is larger than Saare Samba but its not huge, it has about 2,000 people. There is a health center in the neighboring village (Kuntair) which is 1 k away. There is also a skills center in Ker Jarga where women learn how to make different crafts, fabric, bags etc. I have been impressed by how welcoming everyone here has been. They are clearly very excited to have a PCV. My host family is growing on me--it is bigger than my training village host family. I now have 2 moms and a formidable host father- Baay Waly-who is a mason. He is really concerned about looking out for me which I'm sure is something my real dad will appreciate. I have 10 host brothers and sisters and have yet to get all of their names straight. All in all Ker Jarga is picturesque and I can definitely see myself happily living there for the next two years.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Musings and Bumsters
So I have been in the Gambia now for four days and I wanted to share a few musings I've had lately and some thoughts on bumsters. (Explanations to follow)
Written November 5th
On our flight from Brussels to Banjul I glance out the window. Down below I saw the stark contrast of desert, turning to hills to mountain. And on the other side the mountain fell away to unfurl more hills and desert. I couldn't help but be struck, moved, touched by the beauty of this simple transition. More importantly the beauty of the fact that I am able to witness it. I suspect this is a feeling I'll be having a lot as I find myself living, working, laughing and "enjoying" in the Gambia! What crazy ridiculous luck do I have that I get to witness and experience all this. How on earth have I been so fortunate. And more importantly how do I repay this debt to the universe or whomever I owe my gratitude. I think for now the solution is merely mindfulness-recognizing these moments of amazing beauty--and appreciation with perspective that not everyone is so lucky.
And here's one for Dad who knows how much I love lists.
Things that happened today/last night to make me happy:
1) drinking cold beers at an African bar on a warm night.....ahhhhh bliss.
2) waking up, rolling out of bed and going to the beach
3) the humor of bumsters on the beach*
4) swimming in warm, salty, ocean water and then drinking cold Fanta from a glass bottle with a straw
5) getting an ice pop of bissap juice which is called "wanjo" here but is nonetheless delicious
* "Bumster." These are basically young men who spend their days working out on the beach with the goal of trying to impress white female tourists to hire them as an escort for a week and possibly parlay that to a green card. Honestly when you think about it it is a fairly disturbing and desperate phenomenon that really speaks to the endemic poverty in Gambia. But it's also just really amusing to see men doing windsprints, push ups and squat thrusts on the beach.
Finally a quote from a Mary Oliver called "Toad"
"About this cup we call a life. About happiness. And how good it feels, the heat of the sun between the shoulder blades."
Written November 5th
On our flight from Brussels to Banjul I glance out the window. Down below I saw the stark contrast of desert, turning to hills to mountain. And on the other side the mountain fell away to unfurl more hills and desert. I couldn't help but be struck, moved, touched by the beauty of this simple transition. More importantly the beauty of the fact that I am able to witness it. I suspect this is a feeling I'll be having a lot as I find myself living, working, laughing and "enjoying" in the Gambia! What crazy ridiculous luck do I have that I get to witness and experience all this. How on earth have I been so fortunate. And more importantly how do I repay this debt to the universe or whomever I owe my gratitude. I think for now the solution is merely mindfulness-recognizing these moments of amazing beauty--and appreciation with perspective that not everyone is so lucky.
And here's one for Dad who knows how much I love lists.
Things that happened today/last night to make me happy:
1) drinking cold beers at an African bar on a warm night.....ahhhhh bliss.
2) waking up, rolling out of bed and going to the beach
3) the humor of bumsters on the beach*
4) swimming in warm, salty, ocean water and then drinking cold Fanta from a glass bottle with a straw
5) getting an ice pop of bissap juice which is called "wanjo" here but is nonetheless delicious
* "Bumster." These are basically young men who spend their days working out on the beach with the goal of trying to impress white female tourists to hire them as an escort for a week and possibly parlay that to a green card. Honestly when you think about it it is a fairly disturbing and desperate phenomenon that really speaks to the endemic poverty in Gambia. But it's also just really amusing to see men doing windsprints, push ups and squat thrusts on the beach.
Finally a quote from a Mary Oliver called "Toad"
"About this cup we call a life. About happiness. And how good it feels, the heat of the sun between the shoulder blades."
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