Exploring New Avenues

Today started rather overcast by Gambian standards. It is also slightly cooler thanks to the strong seasonal Harmattan winds. At night they blow so strongly that I can have difficulty sleeping: open doors bang shut and closed ones rattle in the locks. It is impossible to keep the wind out, as although all my windows have bars and mozzie mesh, they do not all have glass. Actually the sensation of draught is welcome on English skin!

Anyway this morning I decided that I would take advantage of the lower temperatures and explore the area around the Pink Palace, finding connections on foot that allow me to join up places and addresses I already know. My little “adventure” took a couple of hours non stop and I was pleased to discover that I live very centrally to many places I already know well or would like to know better.  

Although my address is Kanifing the map location of my house is actually more in Bakau Kungko which is set a little way inland from Bakau, itself. Can anyone find me on Google Earth? In fact I live very close to the Gambia Football House, just south of the Independence Stadium. Here on Thursday, a public holiday, due to the fourth inauguration of President Jammeh, the celebrations were marked with a multi gun salute. The explosions drew me up onto the roof to watch plumes of white smoke rising into the air. However I was too far away to see any of the dignitaries or the President himself.  Throughout the day before, I repeatedly heard the same song being practised by local school children. Presumably they too featured in the stadium ceremonies.

To mark the holiday I lunched in a Westfield Lebanese restaurant with Sohna, my friend from Mansa Konko. She is in Kombos undertaking a month’s I.T. training; hopefully the start of more to come.  Sohna is the only woman on the course and she is right to feel a sense of achievement.  We ate, laughed and caught up on news and gossip. 

It was late in the afternoon when we parted. She left for Serrekunda and I walked up the Kairaba Avenue to the Alliance Franco-Gambienne where I met a group of VSO friends to watch La Cirque. We joined others sitting outside on plastic chairs which we arranged around a large area of concrete. After a while a large white van drove in and “broke down” in the centre of the arena and the fun began. The many players, all French, came and went through the van, creating a sense of chaos and enacting a drama, often in mime but sometimes extremely noisily adding to the bedlam. In essence they were clowns and jugglers and very skilled in their craft. I loved the idea of the stage being all around the central exposed prop store and thought often of Annie and the Sarratt Panto players (SPLAT). Perhaps the village hall committee would draw the line at allowing The Grey Knights bus such a role.

I went to work last Monday and found that the SIU office was locked. Everybody was out “on trek” and I had been forgotten! Last week came the pride. This week brought the fall! Such things are not uncommon here, so it pays to be flexible. Working from home on Monday was useful as I could finalise documentation and set off to find a good inexpensive printer. Printing is such a problem here, even in government offices.

Start up costs can usually be found because they bring a certain glamour but there is hardly ever the drip, drip funding to pay for after care: toner, inks etc.  But by the end of the day I had located a small Gambian company and had sets of self funded documents ready to go.

So far I’ve steered clear of talking about what I am trying to do here professionally, really because I am sure it makes for dull reading but with all my recent news being social or domestic, I think I ought to put the record straight work wise!

My placement brief was “School Management”, an enormous subject, given a one year time frame. In order to stand a chance and any measure of success I believe it is better to find one small possibility and stick to it, rather than thrash about fighting bush fires. After a week or so in Mansa Konko I came upon some recent School Development Plans. These were lengthy (often 70 pages), convoluted (objectives unclear) and the result of unbelievable effort (almost all are hand written in triplicate!!) The plans had been the result of extensive National training but not one seems to be in use. They are all “lost” or gathering dust somewhere.

And yet, schools need to improve urgently.

Gambia has a tight structure for measuring effectiveness of schools, called the Minimum Standards, but Head teachers have not been encouraged to use this framework to review their schools before planning changes. Therefore one of the documents I have designed is based upon this framework, enabling heads to carry out a school self assessment.  (Perhaps the reason I am not sleeping is to do with memorizing the Minimum Standards and not the rattling windows and doors!!)

It is always a pleasure to work for a day with a head teacher.

First I ask the Head to tell me about their school, often as we walk around. All the achievements and concerns come tumbling out in ways I readily recognize. Afterwards we settle down and go step by step through the paperwork marking off “established good practice” and indicating “Action needed” as appropriate.

The first section gives cause for celebration and the second section becomes the spine for the School Development Plan. The day has by then travelled full circle: the “established good practices” echo the head teacher’s earlier achievement list and his or her concerns are now marked as “Action Areas”. It is rare to find a head who does not know their school. This simple alignment between their existing knowledge and the notion and purpose of School Development Planning always demystifies the process and pleases them. I do a few days preparation work before we meet again for another day or two, usually the following week to complete the Action Plans.  This in itself is a challenging task, requiring much further training for which I do not have time at the moment and which would over complicate the present focus. My intention is to leave as many examples as I can and begin to influence the thinking at ministry level.

Other common difficulties are becoming obvious too: data collection and financial management are frequent examples. So these areas too are keeping me busy.

On Tuesday I travelled the 45 minute gely gely ride to Abuko Lower Basic School where the wonderfully enthusiastic and good humoured Bernice Saidey has a total of 1,300 pupils. Even in this poor community 10% of her school roll are considered to be exceptionally needy. If you want to know what that means in practice, I can tell you because I met Ousman and his mother.

Ousman is 11 years old. He is in Grade 4 not 6, because he started his schooling late, a common fact in poorer communities. He is slightly built and polite, speaking certain English phrases well. He is also hardworking and doing very well at his studies which is a shame because his father has died, making the additional burden of school costs on the family’s meagre finances impossible to find. How much? 400 Dalasis, plus another 400 for a meal each day.       These costs are per year! 

There are 45 Gambian Dalasis to the pound. As the Americans say “Do the Maths!”

To keep Ousman at school will cost around £20 p.a. The costs by the way are for: exercise books, pencils, uniform etc etc. as well as lunch. Bernice ensures costs are kept to a minimum. Her school garden also successfully supplements the food and the cash flow to support children like Ousman.

At the end of a successful first day, I came away with three fresh tomatoes, an aubergine and a heavy heart that was formulating a commitment to a little boy!

Working one-to-one with such professionals is almost an indulgence and so for the sake of expediency  I would like to  hold single day training sessions for groups of about 50 school leaders to explain the principles behind the cyclical process of Review, Plan, Do as well as some of the detail around action planning, data and financial management but at the moment this is not possible.

However  SIU are interested …..so perhaps there is hope for further exploration…….

Transfer and Reflection

My move to Kannefing in the Kombos is so that I can take up a position with the School Improvement Unit, a department of the Ministry of Education, located in the annex building only ten minutes walk away from The Pink Palace. I am proud to say that this move was endorsed by the Permanent Secretary for Education himself!

My work here began with a three day training course on School Planning for Head Teachers, Senior Teachers and Chairs of the SMC (equivalent of the schools’ Governing Bodies). This provided a wonderful start as I got to meet many of the people I will be working with. They seem to be a lively, good humoured lot. For example on the first day of training when establishing the ground rules for effective team work,  they decided that in the interest of efficiency,  repetition was to be avoided.  They believed this to be so important that they repeated it four times!

Since moving here, 12 days ago, I have not had a night alone. Suki and Gareth have both stayed one or two nights and Sarah has been here since the first day. But today, Sunday, Sarah set off early to return to Basse.

I have loved having all these young VSOs to stay and will miss them. Hopefully they know that The Pink Palace Hotel will always welcome them.

Having seen Sarah off safely, I took the half hour walk to “Traffic Lights” where Lynn lives. Lynn is a long serving volunteer. She was ready in her car to take a group of us down to the Cabana Hotel on the beach, where we sat around the pool, chatting and reading until lunch time ( I had delicious butterfish with chips) before resuming our pool positions well into the afternoon.

You can see how rapidly my life has changed recently. This has caused me to become a little reflective………

Working in Region 4 at the directorate offices in Mansa Konko for the past three months gave me quite an insight into rural life in a developing country.

“It is not easy” as the Gambians say.

No running water in the tiny corrugated roofed houses, many of which do not have electricity. Shared latrine toilets are the norm. Whilst there, I was lucky enough to have my own latrine and part-time power, as well as the means to buy it. The water tap was also within my compound. Many locals, always the women of the household, have to walk along the sandy roads to their nearest standpipe, carrying large bowls of water back on their heads. They do this journey many times a day to ensure adequate supply for drinking, cooking and washing. Despite the difficulties people take a pride in their appearance. Children going to school and adults off to work wear clean clothes, dried on the bushes and pressed with a charcoal iron. The clothes, including shoes, do not fit well and show evidence of many years wear. The poverty is more evident when people are at home, in their “everyday” ragged wear. For the young children this often means very little at all.

Children have no toys but often play with the bits and pieces they find on the rubbish piles.

Most children walk miles to school, many of which operate a “double shift” system with morning sessions from 8.30 till 1p.m. and afternoon sessions from 2 till 6.30 p.m. Young children are therefore walking to or from school in the full strength of the African sun; those on late shift are still on their way home after dark, as sunset is around 7p.m.  As it is beneficial to learn in the morning, classes often alternate shifts fortnightly. This is especially good for the girls, who have numerous chores to do when they are at home. Morning classes mean that education really does come first.

Pupils learn English, Maths, Science and Social Environmental Studies. Other aspects of learning such as Sport, gardening and scouting are available as extracurricular activities. The school gardens, tended by the pupils, are a means of education and also supplement either the school meals directly or school cash flow. Last month I saw a bush fire take hold of a large school garden. When the master saw the flames, he called immediately for help. Not by phone of course but by bellowing for Year 6 to rush out of their classes with buckets of water or long thin branches as fire fighting equipment. After half an hour the crisis was over. School fire drill here is certainly different from Hertfordshire! There is a fire station on the main Soma/Mansa Konko road but presumably a bush fire travels more quickly than the engines!

Gambia has embarked on a huge drive for universal education but many families still need convincing of the value of enrolling their children in a school; following this up with regular, punctual attendance. There is so little money; at a personal and national level that the costs involved are often prohibitive. This effects both the provision and take up of the intended service, especially in the "up country" areas. Rural life is hard here and although I was befriended by so many people who were unbelievably kind and generous there was a certain prevailing tension about the town, indicative of the relentless struggle. Such poverty brings lack of control and absence of choice. Many people have little to do other than the grinding chores of survival.

Why am I writing this now?  It is because living in the  city provides the distance to see Soma life more clearly.

The structure of education remains the same, but here close to the capital there is greater parental expectation. There are also many more schools and ECDs (nurseries) available. Many families are markedly affluent with all the choice that brings. The more comfortable standard of living of many is apparent on my morning walk to work, still on sand but now alongside a 4 metre wide strip of tarmac. Here the children wear well fitting uniforms and have less far to walk. Some even go to school by car.  Life here is better for many of my Gambian neighbours as well as me.

It is strange that when I first came out in September I did not notice all of this. Gambia hasn’t changed in the four months since I arrived but my perspective has.

I came here to help with education and instead it is me that has had the lesson.

I do hope that I can help in SIU. I’ll certainly try, appreciating the unique opportunity I have been given to do a two part placement, both rural and urban.

In The Pink

At 8.30 a.m. last Tuesday, 3^rd Jan, I left Sarah, still in bed at Catherine’s house, and walked to the VSO office. It took about half an hour. By 10.30 I was on my way back with approval to take over an empty flat, here in part of Kombos, called Kannefing.

Sarah and I packed our bags, and called for Lamin’s help. On the way in his taxi we called into the biggest store in town, Emporium, and bought sheeting material and power credit from the Nawec offices. We were set.

I had never been to the flat before, despite knowing Rob, the previous tenant, well.

We had always met at the office or in cafes. When the taxi pulled up outside a tall rose pink building with grey gates, a fully tiled entrance courtyard and external steps to the roof terrace, I couldn’t believe my eyes. It would not be possible to conjure up a place of greater contrast to the little home I have just left behind in Soma.

The landlord and his family occupy the top floor so mine is the ground level flat.

 Here is a large square kitchen with double drainer stainless steel sink, fridge and free standing cooker. There are two double bedrooms, each with double bed and set of drawers and one even has an ensuite shower room.  Next to the kitchen is another shower with separate w.c. The small single bedroom is unfurnished. The lounge diner is light and cool.

After I'd put down my rug and added a bamboo bed couch

All the floors are beautifully tiled. Sarah and I pinched ourselves and spent the rest of the day, unpacking, cleaning and rearranging the sparse furniture, before Suki joined us for the night, fresh off the plane after her Christmas visit home.  By the end of the day we knew that we really needed all the household bits and pieces from Soma. There was not a great deal to collect but certainly too much to bring down by gely gely. As there was no VSO vehicle available to help, we of course, phoned Lamin. By the end of Friday it was mission accomplished I’d even had time to say goodbye to neighbours, friends and work colleagues. After the long return drive Lamin and Sarah’s energies did not flag, until everything was in place. This even includes a large television which Mr Sanyang, my landlord offered.  Amongst all the other things Lamin  achieved that day he also found time to ask Sarah out for a date. Happily she accepted.

That evening I phoned Max, another volunteer from the Philippines whose service is about to end. I had heard that he was selling a single bamboo bed which would make an ideal sofa in my new lounge as well as providing another spare bed. I was in luck; it was still available and would be ready for collection the next morning.  So on Saturday (yesterday, as I write) I walked the half hour journey to Max’s house. He was waiting for me at the corner and we walked the last two hundred metres or so   together before we sat drinking milk-less tea in his lounge. Max is warm and charismatic. He knows my new home well as his Dutch girlfriend, Mariella, lived in it a few years ago. He appropriately calls it “The Pink Palace”. Just before I left Max gave me a pillow and pretty throw for the bed. He also gave me a small “Barbie” pink tub, filled with “lady things”. Among the bags of cotton wool balls and toiletries were four dainty cups which had been Mariella’s. He thought it right that they return to The Pink Palace!

I began to worry about getting all this home but Max makes everything easy. Immediately we began our search for a taxi with a roof rack, one turned the corner and stopped. Inside, full of smiles was GT, another of Max’s friends. He too had come to pick up his share of the spoils. Max told the driver that before he took GT off with his load he was to take “his sister” ( i.e. me) home with all my things.

And so I spent the rest of the day setting out furniture, as well as washing and rearranging curtains and cushions. The dark blue voiles that were here look good alongside the “Sarratt” green gingham. The plastic woven rugs are perfect too.

Suki knew I would be tired and came round in the evening to cook a large pasta dish. Mary came with her and brought the beer! We laughed and chatted by candle light (another power cut!) while we ate and watched a film courtesy of Sarah’s laptop.

 It feels like a home!

If you are wondering why I have moved here to Kombos tune in next week………….

Friends – old and new!

Happy New Year. It is the first day of 2012 and Sarah and I plan to celebrate with pie, chips and gravy! This is Sarah’s idea and I think it has something to do with coming from Durham back home. Over here, Sarah is Basse based, a town even further up country than Soma. When we come down to Kombos a shared aim is to make the most of the foods and restaurants available here. We are staying together in a friends’ house while they are away in Dakar.

Last night Sarah and I (along with Phil, Lilly and Kebba) saw in the New Year at Poco Loco, a beach side restaurant, on the nearby northern edge of the Senegambia tourist area. Midnight was marked by fireworks all along “the strip”. We stood on the wind swept beach, wrapped in blankets, with our backs to the sea, looking along the line of hotels’ competing displays. It was lovely but we did miss the traditions of Big Ben and Auld Langsyne. Amidst this unique experience we noticed that our blankets came from Ikea!

As we left we saw that hordes of people were thronging the area and traffic jams filled the length of the highway. For those travelling on foot the journey home must have been worrying and difficult and we were grateful that we had booked our friend, Lamin, to fight his way through the crowds in his taxi to pick us up from right outside Poco Loco’s front door.

This morning Sarah and I started the day with grapefruit supplied by an old friend, Phil Hart. I’d visited Phil and his teenage son, Andrew, at their home in Gunjur on the two days following Boxing day. They picked the grapefruit from one of the many trees Phil has planted in his compound since he first began developing the site, twenty years ago. At that time Phil would have been in his early twenties and I can only marvel at all he has achieved, often living in conditions I am grateful not to have experienced myself.  The wedge shaped plot, originally bush land, is now well laid out with a mixture of rectangular and circular buildings including meeting room, kitchen, separate bedrooms and toilets. Phil explained that his first task had been to dig the deep well, taking advantage of the good natural supply below ground. This gave him water for both drinking and cement making, vital because all bricks here are cast from cement.

All water is still pulled from the well, a considerable task, given the range of trees, shrubs and flowers that need tending. The latest to be planted are nasturtiums that although looking hardly will probably not survive the attention given them by two recently acquired energetic puppies.  There is no electricity and so Phil has brought over good solar powered lights. These and the bonfire made the one evening I spent there inviting and cosy. We shared a Benechin food bowl and drank wonjo, chatting and puppy watching until bedtime. I was surprised to find that my bed was a solid cement  block. Fetching a good foam mattress Phil explained that termites would get through a wooden bed in no time!

Electricity pylons are now lining the roadway, outside the compound and so power may soon arrive, making life easier for Phil and Andrew. They certainly deserve it.

I wish them, Phil’s parents, Peter and Anne, and all friends, both old and new a very Happy New Year and all the energy needed to make the most of 2012.

Christmas Cheer

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to you. Whatever you are doing, enjoy it all with family and friends in love and appreciation! I’m already looking forward to Christmas 2012 but in the meantime……………..

It’s Christmas eve and I woke up this morning in my “Christmas treat” hotel (the Hibiscus in Brufut) to a chill in the air. It is December after all!  However it was not cold enough to prevent me from eating breakfast outdoors, at the pool’s edge. My usual breakfast here begins with fresh fruit salad wrapped in a pancake with a locally made fruit juice, rich in vitamin C, called wongo. I’m developing a taste for it mixed with ginger. Afterwards Fatu, head of table service, brings two poached eggs, tomato and a small amount of bacon with fresh tapalata bread cut into small rounds. I always save a little of the bread to eat with the delicious runny African honey. A small pot of tea rounds off a meal that staves off all signs of hunger until the evening.

Life here is certainly different to the rather Spartan existence in Soma. The hotel garden is gorgeous and evident wherever guests roam. The tall trees and beautiful bougainvilleas attract delightful small birds, some no bigger than wrens but with such bright coloured plumage. Sadly they are too quick to photograph.

The food is marvellous. As well as mouth-watering breakfasts, the lunch and evening dinner menus are irresistible. I especially recommend the butterfish in lime and capers or sticky chicken. The puddings look great too but I never have any room for one. Perhaps today I’ll just have a pudding and skip the main course altogether!

It won’t surprise those of you who have been following my blog which hotel facility I’ve been looking forward to the most. In fact after 5 hours on the road, plus an additional hour or two catching up with Lucy in a Fajara restaurant, I rushed into my room, dropped my backpack and charged into the bathroom. After a minute or two, I realised, too late, that there was no internal latch on the door.  I could not get out!  As I wondered what to do I became aware of my handbag, still on my shoulder. Luckily in my haste I had kept it with me so I sat down on the tiled floor, lifted the bag onto my lap and searched for my mobile phone while red sand poured out of my shoes into two neat piles on either side. I confidently connected up my lap top to the internet, and Googled the hotel for their phone number.  No joy! Suddenly my assured  euphoria as a techno whiz, fell away and once again I crumpled into “One old lady locked in the lavatory”. I plotted two further courses of action. One: send email to hotel reception, marked Urgent, Help Needed ….and two, the more traditional method of opening the window louvers and calling­­­­­­­ out. As the window faces the boundary wall there was no certainty of success but I still I gave it a try, calling clearly but without panic.

After about six calls (and ashamedly increasing panic) along the lines of “If you can hear me, would you please help” I heard the warm tones of a soft Irish voice. My rescuer, followed instructions to get into my room, locate the bathroom and open the door. He then disappeared too quickly for me to thank properly, obviously thinking I was either embarrassed or mad! Only later did I learn that he was a reporter from The Guardian!  Oh dear! The next humiliation was to report to reception and explain the rather odd email they were about to open. At least we all had a good laugh.

Another lone patron of the Hibiscus has been Mira, a Spiritual Teacher from Germany who is only a few years younger than me. We ate together a few times and despite being of very different character types, found we got on very well. Well enough to chance venturing out for a day or two together. I showed Mira how to travel cheaply as a local rather than a tourist and taught her a few useful phrases in Mandinka.

In return she showed me how to march mile upon mile along the hot beach, climb through thorny bracken, venture through “jungle” dodging creepers and warding off wild monkeys! We also walked along a narrow cliff top path ridiculously close to the edge until we were thrown out of the Nature Reserve by a guide for not coming in through the main gate and paying, like “normal” people.

The days with Mira were exhausting but never dull and she did indeed have the restorative positive energy of her profession. One fantastic evening we went with Sue, Hibiscus proprieter, to a concert in Fajara. The main performer was an extraordinarily talented half Gambian/half English singer called Sohna. She also played the Calabash, accompanied by her father and a wonderfully gifted drummer of only eleven years.  In the foyer of the theatre a local artist was holding an exhibition of his work and accepted Mira’s invitation to bring some pieces down to the hotel a few days later. Lawrence is a Nigerian and his work is absolutely stunning. Mira immediately bought two fabric paintings as it was her last day here but I decided to wait until well into the New Year. I would like to see the full range of his work and take time in choosing. That seems most indulgent. This treat is not yet over and I am already planning the next one.

Tomorrow will be Christmas Day but I will not be spending it at the hotel. Catherine and Mary (Kombos based VSO friends) have planed together as much a full Christmas dinner as circumstances will allow. Yesterday the three of us shopped at a place I never knew existed and could only dream of in Soma. Near the tourist area of Senegambia is Maroun’s Supermarket where we could buy frozen vegetables, cranberry sauce, sage and onion stuffing, cheese and ice cream. Visiting friends and family have already supplied Christmas puds and table crackers. The turkey “problem” will be resolved by Aladdin’s Restaurant who have agreed to supply 6 roasted chickens fresh from the spit. Of course there have been the extra problems associated with Christmas. The more usual issue of insufficient  chairs to seat all ten of us as well as the more unusual one of buying a large bottle of gas, getting it home without a car and connecting it up to the free standing oven without an explosion.

I hope your Christmas goes with a bang – and ours doesn’t!

Every good wish for a happy time now and in the year to come.

With much love.

Three Women in a Boat (and other vehicles)

On Sunday, Lucy Ellie and I planned a day’s visit to Farafenni, north of the River Gambia where we could meet up with three friends living and working in Kerewan and do some unusual Christmas shopping.

The journey, we estimated, would take about two hours, so we set off at 9a.m. beginning with the ten minute walk down to the Soma gely-gely park. Even this part of the journey took twice the time expected as we met many teachers we know, walking towards us on their way to Mansa Konko for training, despite it being a Sunday. In typical Gambian style we were greeted warmly, making an excellent start to our day. Eventually we got to the gely gelies but decided upon a Sept Plas (7 seater) instead, as it was just about to leave.  The driver shot off at high speed which was both alarming and uncomfortable due to the uneven road surface. There was nothing we could do except anticipate each successive bump and brace ourselves, all the while wishing we had not chosen to sit at the very back. Miraculously, we got to the river in one piece. We swiftly paid the driver and headed off.

Manoeuvring our way through the crowds along the quay side bitiks, we found the ferry ticket “office” somewhere in the middle. Luckily Lucy knew where and what it was: a rectangular hole about 50 cms by 40 cms, at shin height, below a boarded up window in the side of a building. Lucy is tall and so had to crouch down  very low and tip her head to one side to purchase three ferry tickets from a man, seated in an almost basement room.. It looked so bizarre, I felt we had all been suddenly “flue powdered” into Diagon Alley (Harry Potter). Our tickets cost only D5 each, about 9p. When we got to the water’s edge we could see that the ferry was stationary on the far bank. We had time for breakfast! Ellie spotted a stall nearby where a woman was serving egg tapalata: two hard boiled eggs with mayonnaise, dusted with hot red pepper in half soft baguette type bread. One bite into the deliciously fresh ingredients made us realize just how hungry we were but half way through we stopped. There, just a few metres away was a boatman, encouraging would-be passengers to pay an extra D10 to get into his motor powered long boat avoiding the long wait for the ferry. A few men had already boarded by climbing gingerly over the planks which made for bench style seating and settling in the middle of the boat. We were encouraged not to venture so far but to sit near the driver himself on a plank/seat designed for three. This was too good an offer to refuse and so easy! All we had to do was carefully climb aboard, move a little to our right and sit down. As the boat filled to capacity with about 20 passengers, the driver, Lamin, asked whether the two younger women with me were married. This is not an uncommon approach here. I assumed a captain’s prerogative (as we were aboard a vessel) and immediately “married” off both friends, imaginatively speaking. Lamin expressed regret, saying he really did need a well paid wife!  I explained that VSO volunteers did not meet this criterion.

In the middle of a more easy going conversation, Lamin pulled on the chord to start the engine and gently turned the boat around to start the crossing. The boat sat very low in the water and just as I realised how wide and deep The River Gambia is, I noticed that the other passengers, all Gambian men, were each wearing a life jacket. I looked down under the seat for ours. Not only were there no life jackets, there was no floor. The hull of the boat was exposed, save for about 40 cms of water sloshing to the rhythm of the engine. The life vests must have been issued on entry! A lesson for next time! All we could do on this occasion was finish our tapalata breakfast and cross our fingers. The crossing only took 15 minutes or so and soon we were at the north bank. Once on the other side, the boat was berthed, bow in, due to limited space! This meant that our easy boarding was more than compensated by a challenging disembarkation. Lucy put her back pack on securely and Ellie and I wore our bags like satchels, the straps around our necks and under one arm. We began to climb over the planks, positioning our hands and feet with care but after only a matter of seconds we risked losing our balance and had to pause. The men in front of us were in a rush and went lumbering off, making the boat rock alarmingly. We waited, holding onto the side. When everything settled down, we continued our exit, climbing on and over the seats, sometimes using the narrow piece of wood around the side of the boat as a purchase point for our feet. All the while the absence of the floor allowed us a view of the water filled hull. One slip risked possible injury and the certainty of feet and trousers in a very unpleasant condition for the rest of the day.

But we made it and went on to enjoy a wonderful day. However we made the decision to return home by ferry!

During our time in Farrafeni we all took a donkey cart trip to the Lumo market. Poor donkey! There were 6 of us plus the driver. Together we made a considerable load. We paid only D3 each for the trip. Quite a bargain! Throughout the journey the driver kept shouting instructions, not actually fully understood by any of us, but along the lines of “everybody back” or “everybody move up” according to the terrain, the poor donkey was trying to cross. And so we travelled; shuffling repeatedly up and down the cart which balanced on only two wheels, positioned midway. The cart also juddered as it rolled along but that was due to all the giggling on board!

When we eventually got near to the riverside for the trip back, late in the afternoon, we saw that the ferry was in, so we hurried to buy our tickets and sped down to the docking area. Too late!  The ferry was 10 metres out. Lucy’s long legs had made her the first to arrive at the water’s edge and she dejectedly turned to us, her beautiful face in a frown. Suddenly we heard much shouting from the rear of the ferry. “Which one of us do you choose?” called a cheeky young man in the centre of a line of other ferry deck hands.

“You must choose” the others chorused. “Choose!”.

The ferry was reversing! Lucy laughed and replied that it just was not possible to select one man from such a kind lot.

We jumped aboard and crossed in no time.

Helen of Troy may have set the precedent but turning the Farrafeni Ferry is no mean feat.

It’s not that easy to say either!

A Rather Batty Week

Mr Jeng is very tall and slim with a ready smile and a calm air of authority. Only Quentin Blake could do him justice and draw him with any accuracy.

A highly respected and long serving head teacher, Mr Jeng was recently moved to Pakali Nding Lower Basic School. much in need of his expertise. This morning for the third time in recent weeks I had the pleasure of visiting the school to help draft the School Development Plan.

Each time I go I am collected by Mr Jeng in his car, an old, dark green Seat Toledo which has certainly seen better days but which is still reliable. Never-the-less there is something disquieting about sitting next to such a respected member of the community and watching him “hot wire” the engine to get it started. 

We began the journey alone but soon gained two passengers who had been on the two hour walk to Pakali Nding. This was the morning’s return trip ! As is the custom, Mr Jeng simply pulled the car over and the women jumped in. Everyone exchanged greetings and off we went until we got to their destination at a corner shop. Outside stood a forlorn woman, dispatched by her family to buy the hundred weight bag of rice which lay at her feet. Much to her joy, the boot of the Toledo was opened and with great effort she, Mr Jeng and I managed to lift the bag inside. A short drive brought us to her compound where her husband sat under the mango tree!  I wish we could “hot wire” some of the men here!

Like all Lower Basic Schools (primary phase) the school comprises a number of buildings which resemble in their dimension, typical UK “mobile” units. Of course in most other aspects they are vastly different, for example there is no glass in the windows, just large metal grilles. The roof, like most roofs here, is made from corrugated iron, as it is cheap and so effective in withstanding both the hot sun and heavy rains. Inside there is scant equipment save for a blackboard and double desks with attached benches.

All buildings are arranged around courtyard style areas, swept clean so that the red sandy soil provides an easy conduit across the site.  The trees that grow here and there provide much needed shade. Each is surrounded by a circle of small rocks, painted white. A similar boarder runs along the front of the office, creating a garden area for flowering shrubs. A larger garden area has been set aside at the rear to grow vegetables to supplement the basic staples that make up school lunch.

With the exception of the kitchen and the library, the buildings are all classrooms, including the one which also accommodates Mr Jeng’s office, squeezed in between the two upper classes.

We started our day in here, with fresh bread which needed neither butter nor filling and had it with tea in plastic mugs, without milk but with an unbelievable amount of sugar. To work we sat at my small laptop computer, the pair of us perched on a child’s triple wooden bench as there are no chairs for guests. After an hour or two Mr Jeng invited me to see some of the buildings which can no longer be used due to their poor state of repair. Sadly one of these is the library which had more bats (mammal variety) than books. The noise inside was alarming. The roof was truly infested! If further proof were needed it was in the form of a thick coating of white bat droppings on the piles of rotting books. The walls too were streaked from ceiling to floor.

The detail in the School Development Plan to “Renovate the Library” came suddenly into sharp focus. Without ridding the building of bats first, these plans would not get off the ground. The bats had to go! This was the only part of the plan that required financial support, as community help would ensure the building was cleaned at no cost. Like other VSO volunteers in similar circumstances, I was happy to help if the price was right!  Luckily it was, and a local carpenter with children at the school, agreed to pull down the ceiling the very next day.

With these arrangements made and much of the office work done, we happily set off back to the office, arranging to meet again in a few days time.

 By coincidence I spent the intervening day with another head teacher who told me how his extensive office and library block had been similarly infested.

A large man with only one eye, he retold the story of the Battle of the Bats in graphic detail!

Unlike Mr Jeng, he did not feel the need to call in a workman. He simply removed some of the ceiling here and there along the considerable run of the building and sent an army of children up with sticks. Gleefully he described how the battle raged until eventually the victorious army was able to rake up the vanquished into bags and dump them over the fence.

Does anyone actually know Quentin Blake? There is so much material here!

The final part of this “batty” story is that having sorted the stock in his splendid newly refurbished and pest free library, the second head teacher found he has many books he no longer needs. Better still he is happy to pass them on to Mr. Jeng.