Journal Entry 10.25.07

By the looks of it, it’s been a month since I arrived in Philly and this whole damn adventure began. On days like today full of challenges and what not, it’s actually easy to see myself here for two more years. “Seeda, Seeda” the motto goes: “slowly, slowly”.

Uno is a big hit, I’m playing more Uno or have played in the last two days than my entire life. Two points of interest today.

1) Today was our TAXI EXPERIENCE DAY where we had, with the other trainees and our LCH, to take a trip to Soma from our villages by way of Gelegele, the local bush taxi. Soma is about a half hour’s drive but the roads are SO bad it takes upward to an hour. It costs D25 or $1.00 U.S. And there’s no schedule. You just wait by the side of the road under a tree or thatch roof if one exists, until you see a rickety van gallop down the road, huffing and puffing diesel like it’s the last Mad Max/Chitty Chitty Bang Bang contraption left on the road. Then you flag it down, if there’s room, you get in, if not, you probably still get in, but if there’s really not, you wait for the next one which may or may not ever come. We caught one about an hour after waiting.

The trainees from a Mandinka village down the road were already in there along with a few locals. We piled in no problem, 8 or 12 passenger van with 1 or 2 seats left till capacity. We jossle down the road, come to a stop, fill the engine with water (it was thirsty) and pick up a few more passengers. A small boy is put into the lap of his father and I figure that is a full ride. A few minute later we stop at a police blockade (standard, no trouble) except more people start climbing aboard. We couldn’t possibly cram more people in, but we did! The lady against the window had a small baby who needed to pee. She tried holding it up to the window, but the driver’s apprentice, 1 of 3, all stand outside on the bumper or above on the luggage rack, said NO. We stopped and he took the kid out to pee, we gather more people going to Soma. We were over twenty in the van swinging by another village where trainees are studying Wolof. We gathered “T” and “Bj” and a few more. “Bj” had to ride standing up half in and half out of the back of the van with the apprentices. At final count there were 29 people in the van not sure if that included the 3 up above and outside. The van was packed and for some reason they asked for the fare when we were most packed and confused, smashed going this way and that, waiting for change and getting said change back into your pockets takes patience. Gambian patience.

2) This afternoon, “M”, “A”, “K” and I were working in the fields of coos, collecting more stakes for “A”s fence. We figure this is a futile task but it keeps us busy and already the goats are getting into his garden and nothings been planted yet. As the sun began to set we tried to figure out how we were going to get the stalks back to his garden. Last time we wrapped them in rope and then “M” and “A” carried them, but that was too itchy and heavy. So “A” said he’d grab his bed sheet that he doesn’t use and we’ll carry it in that. We try to suggest a donkey cart, but it was getting late, we’d have to get the donkey cart, donkey, both of which were just out of our mental and physical reach. So “A” got the sheet, and was teased on his way back to the field ”What’s the sheet for” “to carry the coos” “but it’s so new!”

We lift the coos stalks with the blanket, each taking a corner like a bunch of pall bearers and hike the coos awkwardly to “A”s garden. The ladies at the pump laugh of course and we take two loads like this. Carrying the third, our LCH stops us and asks what we are doing. We figure it’s because the ladies got her saying that we’re wasting a perfectly good bed sheet. Nope. She tells us to drop the coos immediately. Apparently the Gambian culture is such that they bury their dead exactly how we were carrying the stalks. Even down to the brand spanking new bed sheet. They take the bed sheet, place the dead and carry them to be buried, one man at each end. The fact that we were defacing their culture wasn’t even the worst of it. If one does mock the dead, that in itself is a bad omen. That death will be coming soon, and in a village in a third world country, death can come without warning just about anytime and for any reason. One doesn’t need a good or bad omen to predict death! So. Bed sheet: 100 dalasi. Machete: Peace Corps issue. Offending an entire village mid their sacred rituals: priceless. Chalk it up to the full moon, which I might add is awe inspiring and so damn bright even an idiot toubab can find his way to pit latrine at night without a flashlight.