The flight, which could have been an adventure, was just normal. No extended layovers or turbulence or crazy flight attendants. Except for once when they briskly trotted down the aisle spraying something foggy into the vents above our heads. It turned out to be mosquito repellent, so mosquitoes wouldn’t fly into the plane and lay their malaria eggs.
Arriving in Banjul….green and red as far as the eye can see. I had never imagine Africa much differently, but here it was in front of me. The heat wasn’t too bad getting off the plane, neither was the rush to get into the country. No customs for Peace Corps. Should have smuggled something in.
I had spoken a bit more to J on the plane and in the Brussels Airport, we were now friends and when they crammed us and our stuff, all 24 Peace Corps Trainees into an Africa safari wagon we all as a group got to see The Gambia (more or less) for the first time. Then they dropped us at GPI (Gambia Pastoral Institute) a Christian mission/hotel/compound/learning center and told us our roommates for the next 11 days or so. J and I were roommates and he was very pleased with that. So was I. I felt like I could bond or at least b.s. with him about the girls, booze, blab, blah, blah and we did and then some. Dinner, bed, sleep, pack, move rooms, unpack, bed, sleep, first morning we wake up to the most obnoxious bird in the world. If I ever hear it again I’m going to shoot it in the face.
The days at GPI were full of classes, one block after another, slowly introducing us to the LCH’s, (language and culture helpers), natives who will be our number one contact at the training village. At meal times we eat in the hot, humid dining hall which at night reminds me of those movies about evangelicals in the south having town hall meetings on hot summer afternoons, with the cooling fans spinning but not cooling anyone down. Schedules are: 7a.m. breakfast, then classes, then lunch at 1ish, more classes, then dinner at 8:30 and for the first couple of days a lecture after that. People were dropping like flies, sleeping through the awkward PowerPoint presentations. All was pretty much perfect for the first few days.
Saturday was A’s birthday so we all went to a bar that night to try Jul-brew. S, our PC Volunteer/babysitter and I and others bought some booze as well. 70 Dalasi for a local bottle of vodka, gin, whiskey, etc. where at a bar a Jul-brew is 45 dalsi. The booze was for pre-funking and it was the cheapest imaginable but whatever.
The bar and the beer and the company, more PCV’s were all right. We were supposed to mingle but I stayed mostly with who I knew. The few volunteers I spoke to were rather boring, as was I, I’m sure, not really who I expected as PCVs but neither am I. I supposed. M was right, a lot of “bores” and “white guilt”.
Back to GPI, we formed a dance party in the gazebo but everyone was a little bummed about dancing. Only M and A and myself and a few others did, and what music to play. It was A’s birthday, but whatever.
The next day we went to the beach, the water was amazing, shallow for miles and warm. We tried body surfing, only T really got going. Went to the reptile farm, all was good. I held a snake, I sweat like a pig. I got dehydrated but felt great going to bed. Even stopped to watch a bit of Curb Your Enthusiasm.
Woke up shivering some time in the morning/night. I couldn’t believe I could get so cold in Africa. After what felt like an hour, huddled in my sheet, I turned the ceiling fan down –- still cold. I pulled out my sleeping bag, still freezing. I couldn’t breath very well either. I didn’t want to admit it, but I had the chills. My roommate finally took pity on me and woke up and got me to stand up, though I was out of breath and walk around. I went downstairs and it was a cool, nice night. Lightning went off in the distance, I was feeling better walking around trying to remember the lyrics to “Changing of the Guards” and “On Traveling”. I could feel like either shit or vomit was going to come next. J already has some minor diarrhea. I was hoping for the best. That’s all I knew.
I got the chills again and went into the empty vacant room with my sleeping bag. The storm began, it was amazing. Hard, hard rain. Loud thunder or no thunder. Bright, sharp lighting. I couldn’t help but draw the natural conclusion that this was not a coincidence. I started this storm. My body at least or the way I was that was a part of it. I tried to wake up J but he didn’t get it, so I left him alone again. I slept until the next morning. Still freezing and dizzy I got up to go to the nurse, Barbara, for immunizations. Everyone saw I had it bad and they all took pity. My shits were starting to burn and give me less warning of their onset. I lost more and more energy. I didn’t eat or drink so I could break the fever. Barbara checked me out and immediately put me to bed. I had to give her a stool sample, that was gross, but at least I aimed well, then I conked out. T joined me later, he had been experiencing the same thing for all of Sunday. Barbara said something about my temp being 104, later I saw it was 104.8, at some point it was over 105. Bad ass dysentery was the name of the game. She gave us some antibiotics and had us sleep off the fevers, more people were coming down with diarrhea. Barbara wasn’t happy. We tried to come up with what it was.
My theory was the fish because my stool smelled exactly like the fish market town we went to. This was the third time in my life I have had this in one form or another. We called it food poisoning in the states. I beat it there but no such case here. I needed the sick bay, I needed to sleep and have people take pity on me I guess. This all being said, the bug is gone and I feel tons better and 13 lbs lighter. Weighing myself I started at 192 and am now 179, I hope I can lose a little more and lighten this load.
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