I is for Internet?

Internet?
We have it here in the Gambia. Sort of. Let me go over your options (assuming you're a PCV)...

1. The Peace Corps Office/Transit house.
your best bet, security-wise. could be the fastest, depending on the day/what everyone around you is down-loading.
pros-you can use pandora because it's on an american satellite.
cons-one location, can be lots of wait, no privacy for skyping (even though it's the best place for it)

2. the kombo (urban) internet cafe (byo laptop).
fancy. sometimes air-conditioned. a place to relax and use wireless from a sort of comfy chair or couch. often are in locations with delicious (yet expensive) food. as with all other internet here, can have really REALLY good days and really dismal ones.
pros-cute passwords (chocolat at the french bakery, etc)
cons-white collar bumsters (see earlier posts) who know how to find you on facebook

3. the kombo internet cafe (sans cafe).
clean(ish). rarely air-conditioned, though sometimes there will be a fan. internet here is reliably slow (open on tab at a time, give yourself 10 mins for attachments minimum, etc). you can gchat on a good day, i've even seen people skype.
pros-conveniently located next to major shopping districts
cons-hackers know it too. isn't it weird that all your contacts suddenly think you're stranded in nigeria and need 13,000 USD?

4. the up-country internet cafe (with dust!)
as dirty as you are from the travel it took to get there. give yourself an hour to wait and see if the current will be on today. if the electricity is there, the internet may also be there. hourly rates are cheaper than kombo ones, but you pay for it in time. it takes awhile for even emails to open, attachments? maybe if you've got nothing else to do that day.
pros-closer to site than kombo
cons-it's possible to wait all day and never get internet, meaning you left site for nothing

5. the stick (for the pcv on the go)
recently, 2 of the major cellphone networks here have come out with portable internet sticks. you plug them into your USB drive, and they connect to the internet via signals from the cellphone towers (aka there's a tiny man inside each stick on an even smaller laptop that invents everything you think the internet would tell you). these are apparently magical for volunteers who have a reliable laptop-charging source around their site and a little extra cash (like the phones here, you buy credit and pay as you go, so you can use it all up on one download). coverage can be sketchy but it beats trekking around, especially if you are working on your own computer and don't wanna travel with it.
pros-you can email your program manager about how hard you're working without getting out of bed
cons-even if you have to patience to load a youtube video, you definitely don't have the dalasis.

6. super-fancy internet phone
yes, they have them here. and i would assume they work exactly like they do in america, except a lot more slowly and a lot of incomplete coverage. all i know is they make people less social and squint a lot.
pros-a phone like that can probably also play akon
cons-crow's feet.

So there you have it. I is for Internet indeed. unless this post fails to load, and then i'll just have to write another one, i is for irate.

ps. my brother gets here today!! it's going to be quite an adventure. i will let y'all know how he likes the gam.

H is for His Excellency

I just upped the number of president's hands i have shaken in my lifetime from zero to one. Woo!

For those of you who do not have their fingers on the pulse of the Peace Corps community, PC is celebrating it's 50th year of existence. Yay for half a century of development! It also happens to be PC's 45th year in the Gambia, which is somewhat of a milestone in and of itself. PC countries worldwide have been holding celebrations all year to commemorate this occasion, and yesterday the Gambia joined in with an epic celebration thrown by His Excellency, the President of the Gambia, Sheikh Professor Alhaji Dr. Yahya Abdul-Azziz Jemus Junkung Jammeh.

And I shook his hand 4 times. Not surprisingly, he has an excellent handshake. I noticed during the event (which, all told, was about a 12 hour affair) that he does a lot of hand-shaking. He shook everyone in the Peace Corps' hand at least twice, and there are around 90 volunteers, not to mention all the staff. When he arrived (in quite a fanfare, marching band and shiny black SUV) he shook all our hands. After every speech-and there were a lot-the speaker would go over to where he was presiding over the ceremony-and shake his hand. He was extremely cordial the whole time, including at the end of the night WHEN HE GAVE US DRESSES! that's right, he gave each and every one of us a dress. it was amazing. I can never wear it for fear of destroying it. the men all received haftans (traditional long shirts worn by Gambian men) or shirts. It was incredibly generous, especially since he'd already given us a free motorcade to the event (travelling in a motorcade is approx 1,000 times greater then a gelly-gelly), lunch, dinner, a place to sleep, and a ride home. He also gave us a touching speech about how he is grateful not only to the volunteers who serve here, but also their parents who allow their children to live so far away for so long. As a public speaker, His Excellency is truly gifted. He really knows how to reach an audience and connect on a personal level.

The night was a celebration of Peace Corps, and the legacy each volunteer leaves. There is a story passing around Peace Corps, one told to pick up volunteers when they are feeling down. The story is about the President of a small, developing country who comes to America for diplomatic purposes. Upon his arrival to the White House, before meeting President Obama, his first request on American soil was to meet the Peace Corps volunteer who taught him English while he was in middle school.

And I think, really, this is one of the most beautiful definitions of a volunteer...the first American a host country national wants to see (even before the beloved Obama). And I hope I have been that American to at least one person during my service. This volunteer had no idea he was teaching a future president, he may have even thought he wasn't reaching his class. He may not even have been particularly close with the boy. But the impact he had on his life was impossible to predict. And that's what makes PC different. You have no idea the impact you have on someone, and sometimes you never know. But sometimes, if you're really lucky, you get a chance to find out.

G is for GAGA

Camp GAGA: Enduring Environmental Education for a Changing World

The wait is over. The planning, preparation, and anticipation are all a thing of the past. Camp Girls About Global Awareness, widely known as GAGA among the Peace Corps community, has come and gone. Basse (a center of the eastern end of the country) found itself playing host to an exceptional group of girls and teachers representing every region of the Gambia, from urban KMC all the way to the rural URR, and everyone went home richer for the experience.

Many things came as a pleasant surprise: the girls’ willingness to participate during sessions, the teachers’ enthusiasm for the topics we brought forth, the volunteers dedication to the cause, even the bearable climate (Basse was kind to a coastal girl that week). The camp began with an upwelling of support in the form of a visit from some embassy and PC staff (Cindy, Roberto, Suzy, and our own Heather) and this positive momentum continued throughout the week.

The girls were faced with some big new ideas; even the concept of decomposition was foreign to them. Thanks to our fantastic teambuilding coordinator, Abby, the girls learned a song, “Biodegradable,” which tied everything together, complete with some sweet dance moves. They learned the song Monday night and sang it often throughout the week, to give them a break in between sessions or just because. The volunteers had as much fun as the girls, leading them from the front of the bantaba and getting down to the song about garbage. Marta has kindly posted a video of once such performance on the Camp GAGA facebook page.

One of the most exceptional things about the camp was it gave many volunteers a chance to showcase their classroom skills, which became a form of teaching itself. The teachers, who spent the first few days observing, were wowed not only by the phenomenal teaching aids the volunteers prepared for each lesson, but also their very presence in front of a class. Catherine and Julie, who ably handled the teacher curriculum, based it around observations early, and, as the week progressed, expanded it to discussions not only about the content of the sessions (which the teachers could not get enough of) but also how the sessions were taught and how the teachers could apply these skills in their classrooms.

The camp ended with a talent show designed to get the girls thinking about how they were going to take home the lessons they learned that week. A talent show was a foreign concept, so Koko, Alex, Kelsey, Steph, and myself performed an impromptu one while they waited for lunch one day. Later, many of the volunteers performed a drama written by the tireless Erica (our life skills coordinator who never failed to ask the right questions and schedule the right sessions) that was so good I don’t want to spoil it…you’ll just have to see it at the 50th celebration! The girls, encouraged by meetings with the volunteer who accompanied them, put together acts in groups of two are more. The show itself was quite the affair…curtains, a banner, lights, cold drinks, even a DJ, and of course, honorable guest judges Saikou and Haddy. Modou from FAWEGAM (our community partner), Julia (my partner in crime) and myself rounded out the panel. Erin, our emcee and talent show organizer, kept everything running smoothly. The girls did dramas, songs, and poems about the environment and how to preserve it. Even the teachers favored us with a dance. The content of the acts was truly impressive, and the girls’ creativity was unprecedented as well. After the show, the music played and the girls danced the night away, at least until lights out at 10 pm. They had a long week, and plenty to take home with them, including a concrete plan made by each pair of girls and their volunteer for a way to apply the ideas learned at camp in their villages. I look forward to hearing the outcome of their plans to increase environmental awareness at home.

P is for Paul.

sadly, the post about funerals proved to be a little too prophetic. one unthinkable tragedy later and i'm here, mourning the loss of a good friend, and wishing against all wishes i could be there with his family and friends, as if my presence could make a difference in the cold truth. as if anything could change what happened.

but nothing can. last night, wrestling with the news, i found myself frantically racking my brain, asking myself...when was the last time i saw Paul? what were we doing? how come i fell out of touch with him, slowly, over the years?

and then i realized, all at once, that it didn't matter. that i don't clearly remember the last time i saw Paul because he was one of those friends, the ones that you'll have forever. that we had so many memories, so much of our formative years spent together, that each parting was just a pause until life brought us together again. that when i said goodbye to him that last time, i was in no way aware i was saying anything other then "till next time." because, with a friendship like we shared, the "next time" was implied.

so let me tell you about the Paul i knew.

he was a gawky middle-schooler, a handsome high schooler. in and out of college, he always managed to surround himself with friends. he had a band he toured with, and you could tell he thought that was the coolest thing ever. he was years away from realizing the incredible potential he really had. he was a phone call on Bob Marley's birthday. he was a righty who played the bass lefty. he was friday afternoon frisbee in the park. he was my best friend's boyfriend. he was an on-going game of Connect 4. he was the kid who never took english class seriously, who made you wonder why you took classes seriously at all. he wore shoes so big i could store my phone AND my keys in them. he skateboarded in those shoes (before they were a purse). he had this plaid suit my mother loved. he brought cereal to the fancy christmas dinner every year, without fail. he built fires in the rain and said the smoke didn't sting his eyes. he drove around town without using his brakes, coasting into turns and driving other motorists crazy. physics made him think about the world, about how it all worked. he made me think about teleportation. he climbed trees. he climbed rocks. jumped off cliffs. went off the rope swing. no one could ever say he didn't take chances. he was up for adventures. camping by the river. camping out on golf courses. eating the "s'mores" wyatt made. for late night treks around the jungle that is green hills. hiking to the electric light place, all of us, looking out over the city's nighttime scene. he had a flash-flight, and always wanted to throw it no matter how dewy the grass was. he wasn't afraid to attempt the gallon challenge. whole milk, never skim. he was a good hugger, just as good at goodbyes as he was at hellos. he was an amazing artist, whether the medium was markers, spray paint, or tie-dye. he was a vibrant patch in the colorful quilt our friends made, and nothing will ever change that. nothing can ever change that.

last night, alone in my house, overwhelmed by a deluge of memories, i was slowly overcome by something else, as well. the feeling that he was there, in my room, with me. it hasn't left. he walked the sandy paths of the village with me, enjoyed the wind in his hair as the gelly carried me towards the city, towards a link to the people i need to reach. he beat me to the abandoned computer lab, so i wouldn't feel alone. Paul is with me, even as i write these words. he's with all of us. the feeling that he is here doesn't keep the tears from coming, but it does provide some comfort to know that even though his body is gone, we can each carry a little piece of him with us.

paul cobb, you were, you are, loved.

F is for Funeral

i'd like to start this post by reassuring everyone that i have not recently suffered a loss.

funerals in the Gambia are different than American funerals, of course. different cultures cope with loss in different ways, and i don't think we ever fully understand how to cope with the loss of a loved one, no matter where we are.

the first major difference is the timing. due to reasons never fully explained to me but i assume they have something to do with the extreme heat/humidity in the rainy season, the funeral is almost always the day someone dies. there are a few cases where it will be the day after the death (if the body is being moved, or people are travelling), but customarily funerals occur the same day. there is another wake 40 days after the death, and a final mourning 70 days following the persons' death. this is the grieving period. after 70 days, a person is no longer viewed as "in mourning" over the loss of a husband, child, parent, etc. the suddenness of the funerals (because death is always unexpected to some degree, even if one's health is declining it's difficult to pinpoint the exact day he/she will expire) is very incongruent with western culture. to another Gambian, there is no question, if you have a funeral, you must go. and this is understandable. loved ones need to be mourned. funerals are a very important part of the grieving process, and it is, of course, a measure of respect for the dead. i would want the same thing for myself, when my time comes. however, it is the tiniest bit irritating when you have travelled for a meeting and it has been cancelled because someone on the committee was called away at the last minute for a funeral. the funeral is both the wild card and the get out of jail free card. you can't plan for it, you never know when it's going to happen, and you can't argue with it. entire workshops have been moved, ceremonies cancelled, lives rearranged at the last possible second.

another difference is the crying. people do cry at funerals in America, but not in the same fashion. the word "keening" describes it perfectly. high-pitched wailing, flailing of limbs, people (mostly women) give themselves over to their grief in a way that almost seems over dramatized. but it does seem to exorcise their pain and give them the strength to carry on, so who am I to judge?

the final difference i will address here is the attire. in america, and many other cultures, black is the norm. but not here. the women make sure to cover their head and shoulders with an elaborate draping of shawls, but otherwise they dress up fancy or not at all. everyone looks clean and respectable, but not at all like they are in mourning. they could be going to a naming ceremony. or a wedding. it's impossible to identify.

i personally try and avoid funerals because no one i have been very close to here has died. i tend to draw a lot of attention just based on my skin color, so out of respect to the families, i avoid them so people can concentrate on mourning and not the white girl. except. one time i did accidentally ride my bike into the middle of one. an elderly neighbor had died, and i knew the funeral was being held that afternoon so i decided to bike my worries away while the general wailing was going on. but. they failed to tell me they were having the funeral in the middle of the dirt path that runs through the village. so i rode right behind the coffin before i realized what i was doing. luckily, i happened to roll up right as they were saying a prayer for the dead so every living soul was pressing their forehead into the dirt, praising Allah. somebody probably saw me make my panicked exit. but, i'm not going to say anything, and, since they were supposed to be praying, neither can they.

E is for Environmental Resource Management

E is indeed for Environmental Resource Management, which is my sector here in Peace Corps the Gambia. I think the name is pretty self-explanatory, so we won't get into that now.

but the question remains...how?

and that's a toughie. i like to think that Peace Corps is relying on each volunteer, in their infinite wisdom and unique cultural understanding gained from living in their particular environment, to interpret their policies and act upon them as they see fit. it sounds fantastic, right?

unfortunately, i think the truth is, no one really quite knows. but, for heck of it, we'll go with what I said.

what ARE the environmental resource issues facing the Gambia today? at times, the question seems to be, what aren't? but i will gladly take this opportunity to harp on two of them and leave the rest of it to your imaginations.

Deforestation
you can refer to my earlier post (i believe the title is...i'm not fasting. and i made a quiz!) where i touch on a lot of rather alarming facts about deforestation. it's a huge problem in the Gambia, compounded by a population growing at an unchecked rate, and so far the response to this crisis has been, sadly, inadequate. the problem isn't just getting people to plant trees (though trust me, that can be a problem), it's getting people to fence them so they're not grazed by livestock (tying your animals doesn't happen outside of the rainy season), soil degradation caused by invasive species and over-farming, bushfires happening in the dry season due to people burning their fields, illegal felling of trees for various nefarious purposes, and cutting of trees as a byproduct of other measures (clearing fields, harvesting oysters, etc). there are a lot of things volunteers do to try and combat deforestation; the forestry training another volunteer and i led for the dept of forestry for example (an exercise rather like herding cats...these aspiring foresters were very interested in their cellphones), tree-plantings (largely ceremonial affairs but nonetheless rewarding), education and outreach (Gambia All-School Tree Nursery Competition), and the introduction of alternative income generation/conservation practices (mudstoves that reduce firewood use, biochar, etc). but it's a tricky issue in the Gambia, because people know, deep down, the bush is disappearing, but they also need these trees to live their day-to-day lives. and it's difficult to resist the chance to sell firewood for money (good money, at that) when you don't have any money. so there's a lot of blaming and not a lot of progress, sadly. any volunteer who's worked on this can tell you that, no matter who you saw felling trees, they will tell you those trees were cut by the next village over. or by the Senegalese coming across the border. or...even worse... Nigerians. and that is the worst thing a person could do, how could they cut down these trees the village needs for their lives? and they didn't even replant!
and their indignation seems so genuine. it's quite the performance.

Waste Disposal
and we're talking about all kinds of waste here. solid waste. medical waste. toxic waste (if you count batteries and old cellphones as toxic. which i do). sewage. this problem, also, is compounded by the population boom and the rapid cultural changes the country is facing. up until the introduction of plastic bags (for arguments sake let's say that was 50 years ago) all the trash in the Gambia could be dropped on the ground and, within a matter of months or even days, it would biodegrade. and be gone. so there's entire generations of people out there who have been conditioned to think that dropping your trash on the ground is the proper way to dispose of it. but it's not going anywhere. and this is a huge problem. plastic bags can be found almost anywhere in the Gambia. they are unavoidable. and they're not going anywhere. the same with batteries. the kids use discarded batteries as toys...and these are batteries of an inferior quality. which means they expire more quickly, causing people to use even more. they are also more likely to break open, exposing their acidic insides, a health and environmental issue. and, of course, as the populations grow the pit latrines fill. as the bush disappears, people have less places to dispose of their own bodily wastes. there are entire villages in extremely close proximity with urban areas where not a single soul has a pit latrine, everyone is doing their business in the river. or the woods. it's a truly cringe-worthy thought. what are volunteers doing about these issues? pit latrine projects...check out watercharity.org to donate to various sanitation projects in various pc countries. they are doing village clean ups. they reuse plastic bags as poly-pots to nurse young trees. they sensitize. the girls' camp we're about to undertake (less then a week now!) is going to be a huge sensitization effort. but this is one of the hardest problems to attack because, even after you've collected all this trash...there's really no place for it to go.

there was a point in my service, embittered by a lack of work and general feeling of uselessness, that i thought perhaps ENRM volunteers couldn't do anything in the Gambia, that the problems were too big and the people too apathetic and Peace Corps should consider pulling the program. but since then i have really come around. now i really feel that they should expand it, because these issues, along with others (poaching of endangered species, lack of understanding of wildlife resource management, the abuse of the term eco-friendly to name a few) that now i firmly believe the program should be expanded. but budget cuts hit everyone and they are receiving less volunteers next term. it's sad, but the best i can do is hope these next volunteers have the same revelation that i did, and that instead of being overwhelmed by these seemingly insurmountable problems, be overwhelmed of how they can attack these problems from any angle they choose and still be working for a positive change. because when you look at it that way, it's quite exciting

D is for Drama

Behold, the Gambian drama. Imagine, if you will, the drama of a soap opera in a situation plucked from a Worst-Case Scenario handbook with a public service announcement to boot. And there you have it. My very favorite aspect of this many-faceted culture...DRAMA.

Drama is used primarily as a teaching tool, to talk about issues too sensitive to discuss openly. It can be used to start a dialogue as well, to coax people into talking about issues they aren't initially comfortable discussing. For various reasons, it's easier for people to talk about why "Fatou" is putting herself at risk rather than analyze their own lives and behaviors aloud. They're also a great education tool in general...they tend to make messages more memorable. The majority of dramas I've seen are health-related; the dangers of smoking, how AIDS is transmitted, what to do to prevent malaria, even how to recognize the symptoms of tuberculosis. But of course they dabble in other issues, the picture above is from a drama about climate change, there are more then a few about why girl's education is important, and why teenagers should avoid premarital sex.

The real Gambian spin is that they always have the most dramatic consequences imaginable. Now, I have heard people say that Gambians are not much for imagination. This is far from the truth. They might not be ready to embrace the fantasy style we imagine, for example Harry Potter and spells, but sit through any Gambian drama and you will see their brains can jump all over the place and bring out the most far-fetched conclusion you wouldn't even have dreamt of. The majority of Gambian dramas I have seen are performed by children, so even more imagination is required because 45% of the cast will be mumbling and looking at their feet. It takes quite a bit just to catch what's going on. There are rarely costumes, and though a narrator often opens and closes the production, he/she rarely pops in to help the story along. So the actors have the sole responsibility for making you believe.

Let me walk you through the basic plot on a drama about the dangers of HIV-AIDS...

There are 2 girls, perhaps their names are Binta and Kaddy. The dramas often start in a familiar setting, like the schoolyard. Binta, the star, will be talking to Kaddy, her friend, about her dreams. Maybe she wants to be a teacher, or a banker. Kaddy will use this opportunity to plug the correct behaviors, such as studying hard, or abstinence.

Enter Lamin. Lamin is clearly a "bad boy." He will sweet talk Binta, talking about buying her a cellphone and calling her beautiful. Kaddy will look disappointed in Binta. Eventually, against Kaddy's advice, Binta will agree to see Lamin alone.

Some point, offstage, Binta will submit to Lamin's persuasions.

.....Binta is pregnant! But where is Lamin? He has run off and is not answering his mobile. Binta is all alone.

And she has HIV! Kaddy asks her, why didn't you have Lamin get tested? The nearest testing center is ________, and it's free!

And Binta's baby is born with HIV, too! And her family won't let her stay because she had a child out of wedlock!

And now she has to leave her village! And she is all alone, because her friend Kaddy (who finished school and works in the village with her husband) has been forbidden to help her. Now what can Binta and her baby do? They will surely die...

End.

That is just a sample. There are some where the star recovers, especially when it's a more treatable, less scandalously transmitted disease, like TB or malaria. The girl's education dramas often end in pregnancy, or sometimes are variations on a wicked stepmother theme. But what they all have in common is that they never fail to make you feel better about your decisions.