Travelling to the “Big city”

Last Thursday (20^th Oct) I had an appointment with the Gambian Immigration Authority in Banjul to register for a work permit. A simple task you might think. Hmmmm!

The adventure began when I set off with my VSO colleague, Lucy at 7.30 a.m. on Wednesday, the day before. We walked, to the gely gely garage in Soma town. The area buzzed with throngs of people and vehicles, mostly yellow taxis and gely gelies  (rather old and certainly unglamorous mini buses.). The procedure is to buy a hand written, postage stamp sized ticket from the office and then follow the “apprentice”, a youth of about 15, to the next available gely. These do not run to an actual timetable but set off when all seats are sold. This is why it is best to travel early. Ours took only 30 minutes to fill. We sat at the back, on opposite sides of the rear door, facing each other on rows of seats intended for three people but on this occasion accommodated four. In fact, this is probably so for all occasions!  Intended as a 15 seater, our gely accommodated 21 adult passengers, the driver, the apprentice and four young children.

Next to Lucy sat a very pleasant middle aged man who engaged us in conversation now and again throughout the journey. Next to me sat a beautiful, young nursing mother and her baby. Despite limited means of communication we got on well and shared a giggle or two. On my other side sat the apprentice whom I marvelled at throughout our trip. He was most definitely the one in charge: collecting fares, giving change, dictating whose luggage was deemed suitable for inside and whose had to go up top, as well as negotiating the additional costs involved.

Certain livestock, such as chickens were deemed suitable for inside travel and came aboard, flapping and fussing with their legs tied together. However, once stowed under their owners’ seats they quickly settled, pecking at tasty crumbs on the floor.

Less fortunate were the Tabasci rams. (Tabasci is THE  annual family feast celebration, in early November). The rams have been invited to the meal; indeed they will play a central role!

These poor creatures were hauled and pushed up onto the roof to be secured by the apprentice, who then swung himself off, over and down, through the rear doors to his seat. At every “stop” the apprentice was in action and almost every time the driver left without him. This troubled no one, least of all the young apprentice himself who would simply sprint and jump aboard, unperturbed and without effort.

One such stop in a remote country village was to pick up 6 huge bags of flour, probably weighing a hundred weight each. Luggage, sacks and rams on the roof were speedily rearranged (by guess who) and a team of men simply pushed these massive sacks up the side of the gely. Mission accomplished, the man who had made this arrangement was able to leave the gely.

I felt so sorry for the young man who took his place with us at the next village. He was smartly dressed and showed obvious delight at his luck in gaining passage to Serrakunda (the end of the journey). After ten miles or so, he leaped to his feet having realised he had forgotten something. The apprentice let him off having signalled the driver to stop. He hadn’t the heart to charge anything for the aborted trip and with a generous gesture waived the fare offered. We watched as our recent, if all too brief, travel companion began the long walk back home in absolute dejection.

The first two hours of our journey was along the unmade section of the south bank highway and so we bumped, rattled and swerved our way along. The second part proved kinder thanks to the surface tarmac. Lucy and I got off at The Co-operative, in Westfield, just before Serrankunda Market at 1p.m. After a fifteen minute walk in the hot sun, we dropped off her bags at a friend’s house and caught a seven-seven taxi to La Parisienne for lunch.  By the way, the taxis are called seven- sevens because each passenger pays seven Dalasis for the trip, of whatever length, along a set route. It’s a great way to meet local people and practice our Mandinka. But La Parisienne, provides a small taste of France. For lunch I had a croissant with apricot jam and vanilla ice cream to follow.

By 4 p.m it was time to go our separate ways. Lucy returned to her friend’s house in Westfield and I walked to Timbooktoo, a marvellous bookshop where I had planned to meet Mary at 5p,m on her way home from work at the Royal Victoria Teaching Hospital in Banjul. Mary kindly put me up until early Sunday morning for the trip home. But that’s a completely different story. Watch this space!!

My Gambian Day

Here in my little house in Soma, mid way up the country on the south side of the river, my alarm rings at 6.50 a.m. but often I am not fully asleep. Usually I have drifted in and out of sleep for a while, woken by the heat, the dawn chorus and the distant call to prayer. All of these sounds are soothing, making it a pleasant start to each day, especially as I sleep very deeply here throughout each peaceful African night. My rest is aided by a new thick foam mattress on my bed and an electric fan beside it.  This rechargeable fan was bought, on the advice of a friend, before I left the city. Not a night goes by when I am not grateful. The nights are hot and as the evening electricity service runs from 7p.m to 2a.m, it is vital to have a fan to continue to cool the air until dawn.

Once up it does not take me long to get ready for work. I “bath” outside in my secluded yard, wearing the Croc shoes that Pippa gave me as farewell present in July. I soap up and rinse off by throwing cups full of water over me from a bucket. Then I tie back my hair and drink a typical English cup of tea. Typical that is apart from UHT milk which I am now used to. I try to moisturise my face but often it is too wet through perspiration to do this well. I dress always in simple thin cotton and never bother with make up.

Locking the bolt on the metal rear door is difficult but eventually I always manage it. At 7.50  I pick up my large shoulder bag packed with lap top, litre of cold water, small towel and mobile phone and leave by the front door which I must secure with a padlock.

The ten minute walk along the sandy road to the Mansa Konko office is one of the high points of the day. I meet lots of people I am beginning to know; at the fire station or in vehicles as well as the many senior school students who walk alongside me. Traditional greetings of “Salaam Maleekum” and Maleekum Salaam” are exchanged.

My place of work is the Head Office of the region’s education department. My desk is in the office with the Assistant Director's. Ours is the first office in the block and luckily is efficiently air conditioned after 9 o’clock when the electricity is restored for the daytime hours, until 4p.m.

I thoroughly enjoy the company of the people I work with. They have made me very welcome. My main task at the moment is to devise systems to support school management and to this end have been given a brand new computer which should be installed tomorrow. I also visited my first Gambian school today which was only a short motor cycle ride away in Pakilinding. The head master and I were in agreement on so many school issues and he felt very positive about my work here so far. I am sure that this paves the way for far more collaboration to come. VSO believes in “exchange of skills”. Both in the office and at Pakilinding School, I feel we are well on our way.

The afternoon today was spent as usual back in the office with the customary delicious food bowl, served just after 3p.m. This is a large platter of a rice based dish that we all share, using a spoon or fingers (right hand only).

Often I am fortunate in getting a lift back home in the office truck. Alieu drives and we usually pick up a few others on the journey. For them it is standing room only in the back!

The evenings are short. After another cold bath to cool off, and a chat on the veranda with my VSO neighbours, we share a light meal, taking it in turns to cook. At some time we usually go together through the scrubby grass, the 30 metres or so to collect our water from the tap. As we must collect all the water we use, we waste little. Several litres are poured into our water filters, ensuring a good drinking supply, vital considering the temperatures here. Later I spend a short time working on my laptop, either planning work or more usually emailing. I am so grateful to everyone who takes the time to contact me this way. It makes a huge difference to being here. There is always time each evening for other hobbies too.  I am sewing a little at the moment. In an effort to make my little house more welcoming I am making curtains, hanging them on string secured by nails. I chose material from the market that is fresh and cheerful: a plain gingham check in green and white.

Yes my house in dressed in Sarratt School summer uniform!

Journey To Soma

Alieu, our driver was early! We could set off, as planned, from the shared house in Kanefing at 9.45 a.m. in a very loaded truck. Just when it was absolutely full, Alieu tied on four dining chairs!

Our journey on the south road took us through Brikama and on eastward.  We enjoyed two hours of good road; then endured two and a half hours of unmade-up road the rest of the way.

We ate fresh buttered tapalata bread and fruit, drinking water from bottles and bags we had stored in the freezer overnight. After almost four and a half hours, the undulating red soil landscape became lined with electricity pylons, signalling that our destination was close.

Dropping me off was done without ceremony; Sarah had much further to go before nightfall. However despite his other pressures of the day, Alieu ensured that my two ring gas cooker was fully connected and the fridge moved to my place of choice. These two items constitute the kitchen.

As I stood, I slowly took stock of the two roomed house and realised that this was the real start of my Gambian posting. The house is on the northern rural edge of the village, being one of a block of eight. It had been unoccupied for a while and struck me as bleak, dark and unwelcoming. The roof and hence the ceiling inside is corrugated iron. The small front room window and main entrance door are made up of blue metal louvers which restrict much of the light. The brighter backroom is my bedroom. Here the solid metal back door and window shutter can be left open to let in air and light but the mosquito gauzes were in need of a very good brushing. The backdoor opens onto what might be called a yard but is in fact my bathroom. This is where I will bring my plastic tub and bucket for a “bath”. The fixed facility is a hole in the ground toilet. Suddenly I fell into the “slough of despond”. Why on earth had I come here?

 I decided that the best course of action was to get busy and fill the “sideboard” in the front room.

Out went all the much used old stuff that I found, together with the cockroach, the droppings (possibly mouse); on went the Dettol, and in went all my newly bought equipment and tinned food. I then set about re- arranging the modest amount of lounge/kitchen furniture and making good use of in situ wall nails to display my African fabric wall hanging and a few good utensils.

Suddenly, Mr Jawneh, my landlord, appeared to help put up the mosquito net and change the light bulb. Before we could start I had to rearrange the bedroom furniture which in total is: one double bed and one large chest of drawers. Decisions, decisions!

When Mr Jawneh left and established volunteer neighbour, Ellie, had been in for another of her many “cheer up chats”, since my arrival, I began to feel better but also felt the sudden “call of nature”.

It was time to brave the hole in the ground outside. The hole is in fact keyhole shaped, situated in the centre of a dome of concrete about 1.3 metres square. Helpfully two footprints are located as markers either side. Using these as my guide I tried out this new facility – and missed!

There will be better days.

Our Last Sunday in the Shared House

I woke with the 6a.m. Call to Prayer.

It was still very dark and, thankfully, cool. As the skies lightened, over the next half hour, early morning bird song filled the air; eventually only the cries of the persistent cockerel remained.

For sometime I lay in my bed surrounded by mosquito netting, enjoying the sounds and the stillness of the Gambian dawn, thinking about starting the last Sunday here in the shared house. There are only four of us here now, since Gareth left for his Kerewan placement, on Thursday. He was always the first up each day, but this morning it was me. I ventured into the bathroom to find that the water was still running. This is always a joyous start as the morning’s ritual is so difficult if the cistern, the sink and bucket need filling from a 20 litre container. This morning I was in luck.

Ten minutes later when I had the kettle on the little LPG hob in the kitchen for tea, I heard a cheery “Good morning” from Liam. I made tea for both of us and the usual incredibly sweet one for our day watchman, Omar who drank his under the stoop at the front of the house.

Morning teatime gives me the opportunity to sort out the water filter for the day ahead. As I sip from the mug in one hand, the other holds one of several 1.5litre bottles. Slowly the water siphons from the lower filter chamber filling each bottle in turn and the new stock can be stored in the fridge. In the African heat there is nothing to beat a long cold drink of clean water. We carry a bottle with us wherever we go and drink frequently.

As the temperature of the day rose, so did Suki and Sarah. After we had all contacted our families back in the UK, we set about clothes washing in buckets, pegging things out on the line in the back yard. When we go outside we often disturb the small lizards and beautiful butterflies that scurry or flutter away, bringing a little magic to a mundane task.

In the yard, Sarah struck up a conversation with our neighbour who was removing a branch of a grapefruit tree that was endangering his roof. She happily accepted his gift of four green, but ripe, grapefruit. Breakfast for the week ahead!

This week will also bring the last part of our motor cycle training, before we go our separate ways “up country”. Liam leaves us tomorrow and the rest of us expect to go next Saturday.

Being together these last few weeks, getting used to the vagaries of the water and electric supply and using Mandinka  greetings to respond to the warmth of our neighbours, has been very reassuring for us all.

Over half of our group of VSO volunteers have houses around the Kanefing and Fajara area and so the “up country” ones of us know can return for a weekend now and again but in more ways than this, the friendships begun here will sustain us through the rest of the year ahead.

I wonder what my home in Soma will be like.

Settling in

After a week and a half here, based in the main VSO office in Fajara near Banjul, I now feel far less nervous than I did before leaving the UK.
Much of this is down to the Gambian community as a whole, the VSO staff here and the group of volunteers who came out with me on 1st September.
I'm sure the nerves may return in a fortnight when those of us who are to be working "up country" undertake the long road journey to our rural homes to begin our work in earnest. In the meantime we continue with our training here. Our first week was in the delightful Safari Garden Hotel, but we have now moved into houses, either as individuals or a group for more autonomous living: shopping, cooking, cleaning and attempting to hold conversations with our Gambian neighbours who are amazingly welcoming and friendly.
VSO's training has been well planned; establishing cultural awareness links, language lessons in Mandinka or Wollof as well as time to socialize as a new team.
We laugh often and learn much, despite (or perhaps even because of) our wide ranging backgrounds, skills and ages. We certainly have much to look forward to in the year to come.
As they say in Mandinka "Tanante", no problem.

Here goes

The end of the summer break looms and I have to admit to beginning to feel rather nervous about the year ahead.
As colleagues and friends prepare to return to school my preparations are for a two stage flight this Thursday to Banjul in The Gambia. I am pleased to say that thanks to a VSO training session earlier this month I know  five other volunteers who will be travelling with me. In fact we will stay together for the first few weeks after arrival for additional training.

Throughout the holiday, friends and loved ones have written, visited or phoned to say farewell. This has been much needed and I have found it very reassuring but also extremely difficult to say goodbye to each one. Sudenly a year seems a very long time indeed.
I have had to remind myself often why I decided to become a VSO volunteer. This helps quell the nerves and re-awaken the excitement. I know I will miss everyone and hope that we can keep in touch by electronic means (To this end I owe many thanks to Dom and his considerable patience).
Bye for now
Chris

Life After Sarratt School

Summer at school traditionally brings celebration, excitement and some trepidation.

The reason for this is the numbers of pupils that always leave us at the end of this term after many years here, our Year 6 class.

Their future destination will impact hugely on their lives and so it was with enormous relief and celebration we learned that every child in the class has been allocated a school chosen by their parents. Most pupils are off to our two excellent local schools, St Clement Danes and Kings Langley. Small groups or individuals are joining superb schools, a little further afield: Rickmansworth, Watford Grammar, Parmiter’s, Queens and St Michaels.

Every child in the class has made a wonderful contribution to life at Sarratt School and is a credit to their family. We know they will continue to thrive and wish them every success at their new school.

Many of you will know that I too am leaving the school at the end of this term, certainly sharing the pupils’ excitement and trepidation at the thought of pastures new after so many years, enjoying the best job possible anywhere. Unlike the children, my exact destination is as yet unknown but I have been accepted by VSO (Voluntary Service Overseas) to work developing education provision, somewhere in the Third World.

Like the pupils, I have learned a lot here and hope to put it to good use.

Christine Buck

Head teacher