Sunday, February 15, 2015

Gone too young

A mother’s wailing and shrieking.  Women gathered in solemn, scarf-covered huddles.  Tears shed.  A frantic alkalo.  Gele-geles and donkey carts arriving full of mourners.  A fallen body.  Men congregated around it.    Phone calls being made.  A boy has died.  Mamut Mbye.  A grade 8 student who had just returned from school.  He had climbed a large baobab tree near the primary school to harvest its last few fruits.  Somewhere, somehow he lost his footing in the tree and fell to his death.  I hope he died on impact.  I also hope that he was checked for signs of life in case he didn’t.  Either way, it all happened very fast, yet so slowly…

I was meeting with a teacher at school and got up to walk across the grounds to talk to Abdou in his classroom.  I heard the too-familiar wailing and crying that women do when a death occurs.  I pray it’s an old person whose time it was to go.  I go in Abdou’s class and we start discussing something when another teacher pulls him outside.  He comes back and whispers to me that Mamut Mbye passed away.  I thought I must have heard wrong.  There are a lot of names that are similar to Mamut.   Maybe it was an old man I didn’t know.  I sure hoped so.  Abdou looked distressed and said he’d be right back, but my instincts told me to follow him out of the room.  I walked across to the teachers quarters where I waited for them to return.  They did, and confirmed that it was the young man I feared it to be.  Mamut.  Always a friendly guy.  A little shy, intelligent, caring.  I got a little annoyed with him a while back for stealing a dictionary from the library and writing his name on it, then apparently trying to sell it.  But I forgave him.  We all make mistakes.

I finally peek over the school wall to see what’s going on.  A body is covered in a sheet at the base of the nearest baobab tree.  Many men are standing in its shade, discussing, calling loved ones, crying, praying, staring.  I am fighting the urge to go over and check for his pulse and breathing, but I remember what Peace Corps has told me—don’t intervene in situations like this.  I pray someone has checked him and that help is on the way.  After too long, a junky car rattles up and two men, a police officer, and a man with a (medical?) briefcase get out.  I’m staring in disbelief as they all take their time to greet everyone before slowly approaching the body.  The policeman (…not the doctor???) lifts the sheet and glances at Mamut.  Finally the “doctor” unzips his bag and pulls out a stethoscope and a blood pressure cuff.  He kneels over the body for a minute, then gets up and covers the body again.  He’s dead.  It’s at this point that I start crying.  I realize there’s no more hope.  He’s gone.  His father is escorted away by two villagers after breaking down at the sight of his dead son.  An ambulance never comes.  Was one even called?  

People from surrounding villages arrive, the body is lifted onto a cart and wheeled to the mosque.  The men go with it; the women sit in the family’s compound.  I go to join them and watch the proceedings from a distance.  No one really speaks.  A few muttered greetings, cries from a baby, sniffles from us all.  We watch and wait, watch and wait.  The men pray and gather around the body, now covered in a ceremonial blanket.  They kneel, stand, and carry Mamut away for burial.  We continue to wait in silence.  They return finally and it’s all over.  As we all walk home, we hear a wheezing, almost choking sound coming from a nearby compound.  The mother runs out, wailing, screaming her lament for her lost child.  We hear her distant cries the whole way home. 

A life taken too early, too suddenly.  Although this whole process was for me just waiting around for hours, it was over too fast.  Just this afternoon he was climbing a tree and now he’s lying in the cemetery, underground, lifeless.  I’m definitely still in the disbelief stage.  May we all learn to accept this tragedy as God’s will and find peace in our hearts.  God bless Mamut Mbye’s soul, and may he rest in peace.



I wrote this on Tuesday, February 10, after I got home from the funeral.  I had never taken part in a funeral in The Gambia before and I couldn't remember anything that I learned in training about funerals.  Usually when I have a confused cultural moment, I go to my host family or to Abdou.  This time I was at school and all the teachers left me there.  Luckily, I have a female teacher at my school so I just followed her.  It was hard to follow cultural norms in a moment like that and I am so thankful Binta was there to guide me.  I was numb, in shock, and wouldn't have known whether to go home, stay at school, go to the family compound, or go to the mosque.  Later, Abdou told me that women are expected to stay away from the body of a dead person;  I shouldn't have even been watching from afar.  I had no clue.  But I couldn't bring myself to move, until Binta took me to the compound where all the village women were sitting.  Even then I was waiting to go join the men in prayer, or maybe go to the burial, or do any action of condolence,  but it never happened.  We just sat together and waited for the men to take care of it all.  Then the next day, things went back to normal.  I still think this whole thing was just a bad dream.  But like I wrote above, my God help us understand and accept what happened.

Reflections and Future Plans

“You’re nearing the end of your service now.  How does it feel?”  This is the question I’ve been hearing a lot lately.  My response is usually something like, “No I’m not!   I still have a long time to go!”  But in reality, they’re right.  It’s 2015 now.  This is the year that I will COS (close of service).  When I allow myself to think about the fact that I will have to leave my life here in just a few months (okay, 7 months, but in Peace Corps, that’s not a lot of time!) I have very mixed feelings.  First, I think Oh crap!  What have I been doing this whole time?  Now it’s almost time to leave… have I done anything worthwhile during my service?  Better start working hard now and make every minute count! 
Then I look back on the last year and a half and realize that maybe I have done something with my time here.  I am really proud of the GAD (Gender and Development) work I have done here.  Rachel and I put on an event for some of our female students for International Women’s Day—March 8—last year and are planning to do it again this year—in less than a month!  We organized another similar event for grade 10 students at 6 different schools in November.  And we helped put on an amazing week-long program last month:  Camp GLOW.  The two womens groups in my village finally have gotten going on the trainings they have wanted to do for so long:  small business, group management, and soap making, with tie-dye in the works for the future!  I’ve worked with some really great teachers at my school, despite certain challenges.  I have gotten to know a lot of amazing people, have had a lot of laughs, confused moments, good food, bad food, cries, many adventures, and even found the love of my life, Abdou, who is planning on coming to America with me, as long as his visa process goes as we hope.
Okay, so what am I going to do with the remainder of my service in The Gambia?  I actually have a lot planned.  I just returned to village from a training on malaria and my counterpart (Mr. Kandeh, a teacher at my school) and I are planning on doing a Grassroots Soccer program—a way to teach students about malaria through sports and games, in particular with footballs!  I can’t wait!  Should be fun and educational.  I also really want to put on a girls football tournament for the schools in the area to promote girls in sports and to have a lot of fun with all the wonderful girls here.  Most girls here have the burden of housework in addition to going to school and rarely get the chance to play at the field.  This time the girls will be playing and the boys on the sidelines cheering them on.  Other things I will be doing:  literacy bike trek—going to 4 schools teaching teachers about how to effectively read aloud in class; mural painting at my school—I want to do the world map, a map of the gambia, the alphabet with pictures, and other educational things; and other supportive work at school with my teachers—observations, trainings, anything that comes up.
Whew!  Lately it’s been hard to stop and catch my breath!  All this activity has kept me moving from place to place for the last few months.  Most of my traveling is done now and I will now dedicate as much of the rest of my time here to my village as possible.
Oh, one more thing.  Abdou and I want to have a traditional wedding here in the Gambia sometime before I COS.  We don’t know when it will be yet, but I do know that it will be very entertaining (probably more for the people watching me than for myself, but who knows).  It will be in his village, Kudang, and will be hosted by his family there.  Then when we are in America we will have some sort of American wedding there too.  Everything is uncertain as of now because we are at the mercy of those who give out visas…  Ideally Abdou will return with me to the states in September and we will have to legally marry within 90 days of his entry, as required by the visa we are applying for.  Whether we do a ceremony at that time or later is still up in the air.
Lastly, I just want to thank everyone who has continually supported me for the past year and a half through kind messages, comments, care packages, monetary donations, phone calls, letters, prayers, thoughts, and everything else.  Thanks mom especially for going above and beyond especially in the care package department.  You rock and have continually provided the chocolate I need to stay motivated and alive.  One day I will make it all up to you and more!
Lots of love and hugs from West Africa,

Stephanie

Thursday, September 25, 2014

Surprise Wedding!

Last Saturday we had a surprise Peace Corps wedding.  Fabulous Natasha, who recently finished her service, married Kunta, a former LCF (language and culture facilitator).  They wed legally in Banjul and then had a traditional Mandinka wedding to follow.  The food was continuously flowing and dancing was done by all.  Congratulations you two!  I wish you a lifetime of love and happiness!
Rachel and I excited for Benechin!

Me and the bride

The Bride and Groom

Happy couple, outfit change!

Monday, August 18, 2014

Rainy Season Update--let's discuss food

Rainy season has officially arrived.  In fact, it's in full swing now.  Everyone was really worried because it came over a month late, but it's finally here and it's not messing around.  In the last week it has rained every day, with a couple days that were rainy from morning til night.  I hope this means good things for our crops!  I have heard the millet and corn should be a meter high by now and it's just started to grow.  This time of year is also known as hunger season, because everyone is farming so they don't have time to do any other work--the next income will come at harvest.  This means we're dipping hard into our millet and groundnut store, as I live in Fanafana land, where "chere" is just as much the staple as rice.  Since rice is expensive (the price of a bag has more than doubled in the last 5 years), millet (chere) with groundnut sauce is what's for dinner.  I myself like to eat chere because its more nutritious and filling than white rice, although the sauce my family makes for it leaves much to be desired...  On the days I need a break from the family food bowl, I cook simple American meals for myself like macaroni and cheese, salad, pasta, sandwiches, whatever I can scrape up at the moment.  Recently I made a corn dish with sauteed veggies and chicken.  It was really yummy and my family gobbled up the leftovers.
The good news about upcountry food is that now the grass is growing again, the cows have food and will start producing milk! Chere ak Meew (Gambia's version of Cheerios and milk) is the typical fanafana, or upcountry Wolof, dish. My favorite!  You can add salt or sugar to the mix, and if there's leftover milk, let it set overnight and you have sour milk!  Also so yummy especially on top of rice or millet porridge with groundnuts.
In other food news, Abdou, my cutie boyfriend, ate pizza for the first time the other day and has declared it his new favorite food.  He also ate cheesecake and of course loved it, even preferred it over chocolate cake.  Smart man.
Also some fellow volunteers cooked dinner last night and it was the best food I've eaten in the Gambia thus far.  Baked teriyaki chicken, salad complete with avocados and delicious vinaigrette dressing, squash soup and homemade croutons.  Wish I was talented and motivated enough to pull something like this off!  DELICIOUS.
So there is good food news and bad food news these days.  Trying to keep my attitude on the bright side.  Fresh milk, mangoes, and avocados are going to keep my tummy and taste buds happy these next few months.  Get it while ya can!

Monday, May 19, 2014

Family Photo

Two weeks ago my host brother's wife had a baby boy.  Here in The Gambia, it's tradition to wait a week after the baby is born until a name is given.  During this time the mother and baby are supposed to stay in the home, only to go out for bathing, visiting the latrine, necessary activities.  After a week you have a huge celebration where a goat is killed in honor of the newborn, the baby's hair is shaven, the name is announced, and yummy food is enjoyed by all.  My wife (as they say here, because a woman marries her husband's whole family, not just him) gave birth to Ousman Njie on April 29 and the Naming Ceremony ("Ngente" in Wolof) was one week later.  At my compound, we celebrated the birth of Ousman and also his older sister Mariama, who apparently didn't enjoy such a wonderful event when she came along.  This meant two goats were killed, and both were showered with prayers and gifts.  We ate rice porridge with sour milk (Delicious) for breakfast, and Benechin for lunch (Spicy rice with whatever veggies and/or meat on top.  This time was goat and cabbage).  Dancing and singing also ensued.
My wife Juka, my brother Assan, Mariama, and newborn Ousman

Family Pic! 
Top, from the left:  Sister Awa, First wife/My mom Jabou, Second Wife/My Mom Penda, my dad Batch, brother Assan, me, brother Dam
Bottom, from the left:  Awa's son Siekh, Juka and Ousman, brother Mort, brother Ousainou (Assan's twin), girl who lives in my compound we call Maam Ceesay, brother Alieu and Mariama
*all the brothers and sisters shown here are children of my father's first wife, Jabou

Mariama's goat and Ousman waiting to have his head shaven in the background
Mariama and the giant bowl of churah gerte (porridge)

Killing Ousman's goat

Twins!

Alright, I'm headed to America in two days! See ya'll in a hop, skip, and a jump!

Friday, January 31, 2014

CATch me if you can!

I have a new man in my life.  I met him at the ferry crossing across from Janjanbureh, an island town in the middle of the Gambia River.  I gave him the name Coco because he was nameless before we met.  He is both black and white, which makes him very good-looking in my opinion.  I thought he was cute right away and couldn’t wait to cuddle with him.  That first day, I brought him to my compound and introduced him to my family.  The children were scared of him and the others were not sure if they liked him yet.  My dad laughed when he met him.  But I knew they’d come around eventually.  Of course he moved into my hut that same day and I fed him and took care of him like a good host.  But don’t worry, I still don’t let him sleep in my bed with me—he’s too frisky.  His favorite food is fish and he also eats rice and millet with sauce sometimes.  He’s really good at keeping rats and lizards out of my hut and even eats them as snacks after he catches them.  He’s also useful when village children disturb me too much.  I just bring him out of the house and they all scream and run away.  My family has gotten used to him now and they always greet him throughout the day.  My brother’s baby daughter always comes to look for him in my hut.  I think we will enjoy these two years together very much, as long as he learns to stop being so clingy—he still misses his mom and brothers and as a result has become my constant shadow.  Oh, by the way, if you haven’t already caught on, my new man is a CAT.

Wednesday, January 29, 2014

Peace Corps The Gambia ABC's

Aparantes: baggy pants wearing dudes who try to rip you off when paying for public transit
Bumsters:  beach-residing men who have two hobbies: doing push ups and harassing white women.
Coco: my new kitten--he's frisky but kills things
Dogs: dirty, diseased, desperate for care. Breaks my heart.
Education:  the reason I'm here, and where so many problems in this country lie.
Family:  the structure may be different than I'm used to but I love my Gambian family and all they do for me.
Goats:  unintelligent and abused animals, good for a boost in protein intake around holidays, weddings, and naming ceremonies.
Husband: what men ask me if I have any time I leave my village
Intestinal issues: a normality here
Jujus: magical pouches tied around arms or waists to protect people from various kinds of harm
Kombo:  place where you can find Internet, ice cream, and beautiful beach resorts
Litter: it's everywhere, everyone does it
Mangoes: best thing about hot season. Only a couple more months to go!
Njie: my surname. We are the fearless lions of this part of the world.
Officers: police, security, immigration.  Always there to delay travel, demand to see IDs, and ask for your phone number.
Pit latrine: I definitely prefer this to the alternative here, broken toilets.
Questionable: the state of some meats I eat, the honesty of people selling you things, the quality of most goods here, and much more.
Rachel: my partner in crime.  We might as well have a joint service.
Sun: it's almost always there to fry your skin and drench you in sweat.
Toubab!: what children (and some adults) shout at white people, usually accompanied by these phrases: what is your name? how are you? Give me dalasis, minties, your bicycle, clothes, you or your friend as my wife, etc.
Ugly: what mothers ask you to call their babies.
Vegetables: I buy them for my family every week to spice up our food bowls.
Water: no tap in my house, compound or area of the village. I use my bike to fetch it from the hand pump while all the other women carry it impressive distances in buckets on their heads.
Xtreme: my team of 14 awesome volunteers who came here together in June.
Yaay: Wolof for mom. I have two of them here, YaJabu and YaPenda.
Zoo: what I feel like I'm in when I have 25+ kids gathered around me staring at whatever I'm doing.