Today

Today was a bit of a buzz – overstimulated or worn out, I was feeling a bit like I had been in “performance mode” for too long, so here is a series of factoids.
• In the morning was a naming ceremony – nyambo (meaning small, limited ceremony instead of all day party type naming ceremony) – for Ndey Njie’s new baby girl. Her name is Awa, like one of the mothers I live with.
• One of the boys – youngish, maybe six or so – was crying for at least two or three hours straight when Awa Njie – the aforementioned mother, though not his biological mother – left for Kombo around lunchtime. Nobody did anything in particular to comfort him, and people just sort of complained about the noise and his “craziness” as far as I could tell.
• We had a number of beatings in the compound – a toddler was spanked for pooping on a mat, I think because she’s sick, a boy (pre-school age) was beaten with a very thin branch because he didn’t wash himself properly (or something, didn’t quite understand), another boy of perhaps 13 was beaten with a slightly bigger stick for going too far away during the day – they said he traveled out into the bush or something. Two high school boys held him while his mother hit him.
• I had a return of amoebas – I am pretty sure that’s what’s wrong with me – and spent the morning pretty worn out and close to the “backyard”.
• It was “clean the nation day”. I didn’t even leave the compound before dinner, because this day just sort of frustrates me to a degree not justified by the inconvenience of it. Although I had been planning to go to Kaur to visit an environment volunteer who moved in in early December. I’ve been trying to visit him since then, without results. And now tomorrow is out as I prepare to leave for a trip up country.
• I worked on my bike for a long time – it had been needing attention – fixing the front derailleur, cleaning the gears and mechanisms, oiling and cleaning the chain – and generally giving it some loving.
• I took a nap in the morning, when aforementioned amoebas allowed. Deliciously cool morning, irresistible for sleeping a bit.
• It was laundry day – Ami Njie does my washing, and irons shirts and pants. Fresh clothes are great.
• My domain move is complete. This is a big success that resulted in less malfunction than I anticipated, but about the right amount of agony, as we were without internet here for a week or ten days in the middle of the sensitive part of the process. I am putting up a post I wrote at the beginning of that outage that I overlooked last time I was posting. Oddly, the only headache in reality is because I had to reinstall my portable email client after one of the supporting files got corrupted, and then my archive got deleted in the process of setting up the client again. All of which is to say that I made a fairly silly mistake and lost a bunch of email that I had saved. None of it is fatal, just inconvenient and I hope you all will send me mail to make up for the loss.
That’s all for now – they are getting ready to close up shop!

un-victory

So today I lost. I know it’s sounds competitive, and I am that. We all are, at least in my family, in our ways, but today just wasn’t what I consider to be a successful day as a Peace Corps Volunteer, or even as a human being. Whether it was fibromyalgia, amoebas, the flu, or just Africa, today I was aching from the minute I woke up, and almost couldn’t get myself to go to the high school to do work that I had been looking forward to doing a few days ago. But, I went. It wasn’t particularly happy times, but I did fix the main problem we were having, and though there wasn’t internet available, we made some decisions and progress, something that I should value more when it shows its face at all.
After being there for a few hours, I realized just how poorly I felt, and decided to call it a day. I just went home, barely greeted my people, and went inside my house. Which, mercifully, is cool and wonderful for much of the day during the beloved “cold” season. I pretty much just bailed from there on out, reading and sleeping until four except for a brief appearance at lunch. I recently have been improving my hut’s creature comforts, and it’s now possible to lounge/read/sleep during the daytime in some measure of comfort. I took full advantage, and enjoyed it as much as possible. Now I’m hoping to bounce back tomorrow and get back on the horse.
Work is pretty much full on these days, as full on as it gets here at least, now that everyone is agreeing that the holidays are finally over and work can resume. I am sure that I’m overly influenced by puritanical, driven-to-make-money American culture, but if this is the opposite end of the spectrum, I will take New York City and the rush and bustle for the long haul. And this is a good education in taking it easy, even though I can’t quite seem to do that when I need to, and have to cool my heels more than I need when it’s culturally required.
I got a lot of packages on Saturday!! This really merits its own post, it was such a big deal, and I hope to write it and put it up soon. But, really, I got so much love that my colleagues were giving me grief. It arrived on Saturday because the mail was a bit of a fiasco, and they were between three and four hours late getting to Fara Fenni. So, they delivered it in the morning. Thanks so much to all of you who sent packages, I will be writing more about it and sending notes and all of that – but probably in Africa time. I think I got all the packages I was expecting, amazingly.
Looking back at the first line of this entry, it’s more negative than I really feel. I guess that’s something else I’m working on learning – break downs come, break downs go, what are you gonna do about it, that’s what I wanna know – in the immortal words of Paul Simon. I know I am here to get experience relying on myself, and figuring out how to live a good life. Learn to appreciate the little things, and not get too worked up or beat myself about the head and shoulders too much for not living up to my own often-unrealistic expectations. So, perhaps this Peace Corps thing is working out for me, and I’m not really losing after all…

last week Thursday

Another entry pulled from the email bag: (actually excerpted I guess, but it's a touch late and I'm not going to split hairs)
“The landscape looks like tropical forest converted into farmland - and not converted too gracefully or happily at times. [...] We are currently experiencing a internet blackout here in Fara Fenni, but obviously that will be over by the time you get this - unless I make it to the capital before it gets resolved. I am writing on my laptop, plugged into power at the hospital, and using a portable email client on my usb drive. I am such a dork.

“My friend is pursuing a PHD in Economics, and I asked if they were going to have to do groundbreaking research in order to get out with letters after her name. I suggested doing it on how economies don't function in the third world - I know a teeny little west african place where they have an apparently disfunctional economy to study. What are the requirements for something to be called an economy anyway? Maybe we don't even qualify for that...

“I still get wound up thinking about trekking through places, dealing with all the unknowns and oddities. Life is sort of like that here, just pulled out slow and twisted like taffy a little. Today a friend of mine was in a car accident about 85km away, got dropped off at the hospital here in town, where I met here and took her (on a horse cart) to my house, so we could hang for a few hours while I worked on improving the stability of my bed (carpentry) and she waited for a Peace Corps vehicle to come pick her up and take her to Kombo for x-rays and whatnot. It was odd, but many days tend towards that, and life just seems a little on its ear. “

Life has started up again after the long holiday break – one of the members of my training group actually had four consecutive weeks off, between travel, the Christmas and New Years break, then the immediately following Tobaski (though technically there was more than a week of school in between, very few teachers or students went, and no classroom work happened), and then more travel time. I wish it were an exceptional case, for a ten day between-term break to turn into a four week vacation, but it is probably closer to the rule. Life in the Gambia.

And then this week, the high school had a chance to get back to work, but guests from a Rotary club in the U.K. visited. The club has been supporting the computer lab on a two year project – paying some operating costs and other bits, and this is at least the second time the chairman and his wife have come to see the school. The principal really pulls out the stops, and no classes have been held all week (not to say that the two are completely correlated, but they are not unrelated either.) In my compound, people are saying “maybe next week learning will start”. I try not to be discouraged.

In other news, my domain was up for renewal, and I decided to change hosting providers, knowing full well it would be a headache to accomplish from here. I think, after all was said and done, I handled all the details except figuring out how to tell the domain registrar (company that actually relates the name to ip address / host) a credit card number to bill me. Their web site was amazingly unusable, and I don't think that was overly due to the fact that I am on the far end of the internet. So, perhaps I've lost the domain for a bit, very very slight possibility forever. And I will have lost any email sent while it's gone. Fantastically, we are experiencing that aforementioned internet blackout – two providers are having separate issues and so I can't do anything to fix this freaking problem. It doesn't keep me awake at night, but it does irk me during the daytime. Only when I actually need to do something online and urgent does this happen. Well, in reality I am just more sanguine about it the rest of the time.

Another reason I came to West Africa – develop patience. That and the serenity to accept those things I cannot change. Not happening yet...

domain

I have been working on moving a web domain that I own to a new hosting provider, a project that I knew would be quite a bit more complicated than it is in the US, but it has proven to be even more interesting than I thought it would be. At any rate, I think I may have gotten the heavy lifting done – on my end at least, since I have foisted off the actual moving of data from the old domain onto my father, bless his willingness to follow me down rabbit holes – and now I’m just waiting for what’s going to happen when the actual switch happens. I suppose my email will just bounce for a bit, and I should send a message to that effect. But, I am going to try to get online one more time between now and the cutoff date, as I have the feeling that it will go as most substantial changes have gone in my internet career – a bit bumpy at first. It’s lovely to try to handle it from here.
  There is loads of other news – Tobaski has been filling my days since Wednesday, and I have been enjoying the cultural education. Mostly, people eat meat like the most carnivorous Americans do, and some give themselves stomach aches or worse because they aren’t used to it. We had three rams, and have been eating mutton at every meal since before lunch on Wednesday. Supposedly even tomorrow we will still have it all day, but I think we are finally getting to the end. I’m not sure how much detail I should go into, but let me mention that I will be posting a picture soon with a skull featured as part of the meal. They don’t waste very much of anything, it’s pretty cool to watch if you can divorce a part of your mind from considering the situation too fully.
  Other interesting news is that I was working with a pair of researchers from a university in the States who are coming here this summer to conduct a survey of behaviors and attitudes of grade ten students across The Gambia. One of them was a PCV here from ’79 to ’81, and has been back to do graduate level research and then to teach at University of The Gambia a number of times since. We had some interesting conversation about the state of this country, both then and now, and his impressions of the people and the situation. Twenty-five years is a very long time for this little place, but I don’t think much has changed substantively for many of the citizens, despite promises from probably dozens of aid and development organizations, and the overthrow of one (mostly useless) government for our current (…) one.
  I believe that the internet here has reached the cut my losses stage – actually it probably did over a half an hour ago – and so this may be another entry that is saved and filed another day. Perhaps just as well, as I don’t think I’m in such a positive mood to be able to write glowingly of things here. They are actually pretty good, and I will try to relate that the next time I write…

Back in Fara Fenni Again

So loads has happened, as it always does when times passes, but now I am “home” again here in Fara Fenni town. Back with the super slow internet, the toubabing*, and the home people. I actually got a hug when I came into the compound. Fun stuff.
  So the most comment worthy portion of the journey from Fajara (the area of Kombo in which I was staying) back here was the leg from Brikama to Soma. My journey was in a number of legs: Fajara to Westfield to Brikama (all of which took much longer than they should, due to the fact that we were a group of four toubabs with luggage trying to get Gambian prices and do Gambian things instead of being ripped off), then on to Soma and Pakalinding, where I spent a couple days hanging with Woman, and then north to the river crossing and home. The car park in Brikama is the gateway to the “Trans-Gambia Highway”, which has taken over the title from the road on the North Bank as “Worst Road in the Nation” – truly a distinction in this world capital of bad roads. The car park is also a sprawling, messy place that apparently is a big improvement on what was there a few years ago, when they built a new facility. In any case, getting a car to Soma involves waiting, fending off lots of begging and offers of various sketchy natures, and eventually getting taken for all that the skilled operators can take from you to get on a vehicle that may or may not get to your destination that day. We – I was now only traveling with Robert, our other two companions having sought other transport in another section of the car park – hadn’t exactly done it all right that day, as the trip is generally considered to be difficult enough to merit getting up before dawn and finding the first batch of vehicles to leave town, so as to avoid a lot of the headaches we had. But, we did it anyway, and after paying two or three times too much for our luggage, as well as a 25 dalasi premium for the ride so late in the day, we joined a vehicle that I lovingly referred to as a “shit box”. I was in the far back corner, the ceiling low enough that I couldn’t sit up, the row of seats in front of me close enough to touch with my finger tips when my elbow was against my own seat back, and luggage wedging my feet into place so that any adjustment was nearly impossible. The one saving grace was that my left leg was in the “aisle”, so that it wasn’t bent at a yoga-like angle underneath the seat in front. The other passengers took turns leaning, or spilling food, or sneezing, on it. True bliss was only discovered after we passed the good stretch of the road – about 40 of the 150 kilometer journey – and we started bouncing and jolting and careening through the minefields of potholes and stretches where the “road” had apparently been removed by an act of god, to be replaced by areas where bad shocks are tortured to death by Satan. Robert and I took turns laughing, moaning, and crying “ow” to pass the time.
  It was a good reminder of why people get up early in the morning to catch the good vehicles. We were lucky and didn’t have a single break down – a feat unachieved by volunteers who have traveled the road many times – and made it to Soma by seven PM. Six hours to travel 150 kilometers, and that counted as a fast, easy trip. I think I have officially started a series of rants about transport in this country. I hope you enjoy them, as I apparently am compelled to write about it.

*”toubab” is the name West Africans use to refer to whiteys. I’m not sure if I’ve covered this before, so footnoting.

Kombo has stickiness

Somewhere I remember reading about websites, or perhaps in this information age, all media, and how they tried to be "sticky" - hold people attention. Kombo is like that for volunteers in the Gambia. It's functionally a different reality than up country where most of us live. Power every day. Hot showers occasionally. Banking. Internet. Variety in our diets. Chances to spend all of our money. Alcohol. American friends. Freedom from Gambians tracking our schedules, making comments about our habits.
  So it's not such a surprise that we get stuck here occasionally. Even when people want to leave, they find that they have one more piece of business that has to happen before they can leave. In my case, it's banking. And now I am 72 hours into my wait to be able to get it done. Tomorrow morning is my big shot, I think. And then I hope to depart tomorrow around lunch time. God willing.
  Not that I plan to go far. School is officially reopening after the holiday break tomorrow, but because Tobaski is so close, no one will be there. So, I am going to revisit Brikama (at least that's my current plan, could be modified a dozen times between now and whenever then is) - where I went for volunteer visit during training, and got on the internet for the first time during training. A few friends live there, and I am hoping to play some basketball. And maybe find some kana, a spirit made from cashew juice. ...The things that motivate a man...
  It's been a great holiday season, I've had a lot of fun with my pals, and gotten done some of my work here. Now I am hoping to get back to Fara Fenni for some good work, cultural experiences, and more fun. And some rest, this vacation has taken a toll on my sleep patterns. All worth it, especially when I can go home to Fara Fenni and sleep in the beautiful cool season nights.
  The best part of my life right now may just be that I refer to Fara Fenni as "home". It is never going to be home like Lakewood, but it's enough to think of it that way a little bit.