Saturday, December 8, 2007

Three-Month Challenge

Tomorrow begins the first three months of actual Peace Corps Volunteer service. I swore-in yesterday at the Ambassador's house and we even got to be on local tv! Great food and crashing waves on the shore just yards away from where we took the oath to serve our country.

I am looking forward to being in my village now. I think it will be a rewarding pursuit and I can't wait to get to know my new host family and fellow community members. Also, I am itching to get to work building some compost, working some bees, and starting a garden plot.

I hope that you all have a wonderful Christmas/Hanukah and a very good New Year. I will be celebrating Tobaski in two weeks with my village.

I bought a mobile phone so if anyone is interested in calling to Africa... Dial 220.746.1122. We can compare December weather.

Hope that all is well.

Haa yesso. Jarama.
Matt

Tuesday, December 4, 2007

Training is Ending... Getting ready to Swear-In

Where do I begin? The Gambia, first of all, is an incredibly diverse and beautiful place- one that I am happy to call home. It is a place of contrasts, a place that is the eighth poorest in the world yet perhaps one of the happiest. The people are satisfied with what they have and they work hard to make a living. They are proud to give you some of their portion just for being here among them and for trying to learn some of their language and part of their culture. There are vibrant colors everywhere whether on peoples clothing or growing from the ground. Palm trees and baobabs- some thousands of years old- are scattered throughout the landscape. The climate attracts hundreds of species of birds including parrots, toucans, and gargantuan vultures (but I don’t think here we have hummingbirds). The children are joyful and resourceful: Its amazing the toys they can make from a broken sandal and a stalk of sugarcane. I have so much to learn about this culture and feel very happy that I have (at least) two years to study and participate. I have been made to feel highly welcome.

Peace Corps training is finally coming to a close. I will be sworn-in as a Volunteer later this week inshallah- god willing. My training group of 23 other individuals has spent the past three months learning one of several local languages, whether Wolof, Mandinka, or Pulaar. I fall into the third language group, that of the Fula ethnic group who are traditionally (and many remain) herdsmen and farmers. In addition to language we have also been versed in various aspects of Gambian culture including religion, history, and politics. We have been taught by Gambian “Language and Culture Helpers” who have been working with Peace Corps and the American Embassy for years. They are a knowledgeable and patient group of individuals who leave their families and come into the training villages up-country in the Kiang region where they live with us for several weeks to prepare us for the many challenges we will face.
We were split-up by language groups and each stayed with host families in small villages without electricity and running water where we attended daily language classes and interacted with the community. I have become good friends with many of the Gambians in the village where I lived with the Jallow family. My father was a hard working old man (few people really know their own ages here) named Sanna. I had many brothers and sisters who lived both within the community and throughout the country. I might someday meet someone that I have never seen before who will ask my name and then exclaim that I am his brother. Baa Sanna and Daa Sutay Jallow named me Laamin after their first born son who is a tailor in Serekunda. The Gambians remain a closely bonded group, though this is reportedly changing as the ideals of the western world intrude into their lives. Many of my neighbors are also family members. Now that I have visited my new family in my permanent village which is a considerable distance away, I have met many people who are “uncles” or “brothers” or even “fathers.”

In The Gambia, the family terms are quite different from those used in the US. This is partially because of the different roles that people play in the lives of their neighbors and families. For example, the children of one’s biological father’s brother are considered to be brothers and sisters while the children of one’s biological mother’s sister are also brothers and sisters. One’s father’s sister’s children or mother’s brother’s children are cousins. Because a majority of the Gambian population remains rural and “traditional,” a child will be cared for by many people throughout his or her upbringing. Because of the communal nature of these villages, many women nurse and care for babies and so it is logical that as that child grows up he or she might consider many women to be “mother.” Girls work alongside their grown-up female role models and learn how to behave through their observations and chores. Boys work with the men and so they refer to many different men as “father” because of the guidance role that these men take. Last week the headmaster of the local lower basic school introduced me to his eight different classes of children and he told them that he expected them to look to me as a parental figure. It is not to say that people do not know who their biological parents are as they certainly do. But because these communities are so tightly-knit, the family structure is considerably different than it is in the States.

My host family in training village and my host family in the permanent site are paid a small sum for their hospitality. I have agreed to pay my new host family- Baa Cheik Manne and his wife Daa Haddi- 600 dalasis per month for my living quarters, three meals a day, and laundry. I offered them more but because they want me to feel like a family-member, they would not accept it. At the current exchange rate of 20 dalasis to one American dollar, I am paying $30 per month for all of my basic needs which is enough to buy about one 50 kilo bag of rice. At a restaurant in the Kombo area which is the metropolitan center of this nation, a twelve inch pizza costs 175 dalasis and a beer 35 dalasis. It is easy to observe the differences between the rural villages where many Peace Corps Volunteers work and the city.

My new home is located in the Kiang West region of The Gambia about 150 kilometers from the coast. I am a fifteen minute walk from the border with Senegal and located in the corner of the country where the southern border makes a right angle to become the east. I will be about 170km east of Banjul and the rest of Kombo. All of my local travel will be by foot, bicycle, and donkey. Long-distance travel like into Kombo once every four to six weeks is by gelegele which is the way that almost everyone travels here. Gelegeles are large vans that seat up to 35 people- very tightly- and are artfully decorated with glitzy stickers and hand painted signs. You can wait all day standing alongside a dusty road for one to stop and pick you up as they each bump and bumble past so full that goats are tied to the roofs and people stand on the rear bumper. There is no guarantee that anyone will have room to take you and you might have to come back tomorrow if you really have to go anywhere. Once inside you will be squeezed between sacks of rice, squawking chickens, and children on the laps of their mothers traveling to wherever where. People are so happy to hear a toubob (foreigner) speak their language so giving a few greetings in Pulaar will help break the ice and passing around some kola nuts or a hunk of bread will make fast friends. And of course you are likely to find someone with the same first or last name which makes you instantly related. Friends are great to have because the roads here are obnoxiously broken down piles of degraded asphalt and rippled dirt so you might travel at only 35 kilometers an hour with dust pouring in through the windows and the gelegele bouncing along through enormous ruts and pitfalls. Along the way are police, immigration, and military checkpoints where you have to show identification to intimidating men dressed in fatigues with grenades hanging from their belts. But everywhere you stop women and children offer to sell you steamed cassava, slices of watermelon, or bags of peanuts.

My home is made of mud bricks and plaster with a corrugated metal roof. It is a long rectangular building with my quarters being on the south end and the rest of the family- Baa Chiek and Daa Haddi and my five year old brother Mussa- living throughout the rest of the building. Our house has a large open compound that faces out to the mosque and the pump. My section consists of two rooms each measuring about 12 feet square plus a fenced backyard where the previous Volunteer left three ducks, five tomato plants, and a small tree nursery with moringa, papaya, and acacia. I have my own private bathing and toilet area outside too which is surrounded by a tall fence of woven grass. Washing up is by bucket bath: Twice a day I fetch water from the pump well into a bucket, strip down, and dump water over myself. I also have a pit latrine there. From the previous Volunteer I bought a propane stove, a bamboo bed and shelf unit, and a solar system powerful enough to charge my mobile phone, i-pod, and an energy efficient light bulb. I might also be able to power my laptop there for a couple of hours a week if it is particularly sunny.

In addition to language and culture, training has also involved a diverse amount of technical work in agro-forestry, gardening, and appropriate technology. For instance, we have been taught how to make mud stoves which increase the efficiency of cooking by 60% or more over the typical method of three rocks positioned around a fire pit and a charred cauldron placed on top. Mud stoves are made by mixing three parts termite dirt with one part cow dung and one part dry grass. In The Gambia termites build huge structures taller than me of dense silt and clay that dries to rock hardness. My fellow trainees and I decided to make a stove for each of our host families and so we amassed a wheel-barrow (pushpush in Pulaar) of cow dung and three of clay then soaked it with water and literally danced in it until it was thoroughly mixed. Then we let it ferment for a week and set about building the stoves. Basically you enclose the rocks with the clay and shape it into a semicircle so that the cook can feed wood into the fire and you poke some vent holes into the windy side. All of our families were happy to get one because it saves time and labor for them and we were happy because it reduces the number of trees that will be cut for firewood.

Agroforestry is the practice of incorporating trees into agriculture and it is the primary philosophy from which we work. Like elsewhere in the world, deforestation in The Gambia is a major issue. Trees such as mahogany and rosewood are in high demand for their lumber and craft use. Other trees are cut for firewood and as the population continues to increase more land is cleared for agriculture. In addition to logging, climate change is contributing to desertification as the sahel intrudes from the north. As the trees disappear the soil is left unstable and erosion occurs as a result of the pounding water in the rainy season and the harmattan winds in the dry season. In addition, groundnuts (peanuts) are an alluring crop because of the high-dollar value they have for export trade. Once they harvest the nuts, the farmers sell the silage for livestock feed. This results not only in very loose soil from the harvesting but also a complete absence of the return of organic matter to the earth. One way that agroforestry practices can help is by planting trees either on the perimeter of fields or through intercropping. Trees are important because they make organic matter available to shallow-rooted annual crops through leaf-drop. They also help to stabilize the soil and some trees are nitrogen-fixing. We are encouraging the planting of cashew and citrus orchards, live-fencing trees such as acacias and mesquites, and the establishment of community woodlots and forest preserves. Also we are promoting composting which is an important way to build soil, replenish nutrients, and improve moisture retention.

Beekeeping has long been a passion of mine and here it is very exciting and different from what I have been doing in New Mexico. Many Gambians are interested in beekeeping because it is a big income generator for them and because there is a lot of publicity about beekeeping from local organizations. Of course the Langstroth hive and all of its accoutrements are beyond the financial capabilities of most Gambians and so Kenyan top-bar hives are built from local materials such as wood and straw, grass, concrete, or hives are made from baskets and gourds. Many local groups and NGO’s are trying to make suits and veils available to beekeepers and smokers are made from tin cans. I am lucky because some money was recently donated to build a processing center in Kalagi near my village and so I will help with that project in the coming months. The previous Volunteer left me four hives though only one is currently colonized. Many people have hives here that are empty and so they bait them by spraying perfume into them or smearing honey inside and place them near feral colonies in hopes that a swarm will find the place attractive enough to call home. One of my projects will be working with the National Beekeepers Association of The Gambia in rearing queens to possibly help with this demand and make quality hive nukes available.

Food here definitely takes some getting used too; not because of its flavor- which I enjoy quite a lot- but because of the poverty there is very little diversity in the diet. During certain times of the year it wouldn’t be uncommon to have a simple bowl of lechere, which is pounded millet, for three meals a day- in the morning with milk and sugar and in the evening with fish sauce and salt. Sometimes we might eat rice with sauces made of either pounded onions and palm oil, pounded groundnuts, or pounded sorrel. Almost everything we eat (with the exception of food from restaurants in the urban areas) is grown very locally. I arrived at the end of the wet season when many crops were being harvested. Millet, groundnuts, rice, and corn are all grown within a kilometer of the Fula villages and fish are available from the river which, in The Gambia, is never more than fifteen kilometers away. Bush meat (monkey, mongoose, grouse, antelope, boar) might be available if you give a couple of bullets to a hunter. The women of my new village have a beautiful garden that they feed their families from and sell surplus to the neighboring villages. Some of the vegetables they grow include tomatoes, onions, hot peppers, cassava, eggplant, okra, beans, bitter tomatoes, and watermelon. The villagers make huge mortar and pestles from local trees and use them daily for food processing. Most days women start pounding rice or millet long before the sun comes up to beat the heat and my house literally vibrates from the activity. It is a beautiful sight to observe two or three women pounding in the same bowl each in synch with the others and clapping their hands as they throw the mortar into the air.

Another thing to watch is the process of brewing attaya which is imported “gunpowder” green tea from China. Usually a young man brews for several people. The equipment is a small enameled teapot, two shot-glasses, and a charcoal burner. Four shots of water and one shot of tea leaves go into the pot which is brought to a boil on the burner and then a shot of sugar is added. Then the tea is poured from a height of about 20 inches into the shot-glasses. Then back into the pot. Then back into the glasses. Then back into the pot. Then back into the glasses. Over and over with spectacular dexterity and nonchalance the tea goes back and forth. Some say it is to properly mix the tea and sugar while others say it is to create a head of foam and make the tea light and delicate. Finally a glass is handed to the eldest in attendance or the most distinguished guest who sips with slurping approval. Three or four gulps and it is gone and the glass goes back to the brewmeister who pours another for someone else and it gets passed around until the tea is gone. Then more water and sugar is added to the pot and the process starts all over. The tealeaves are good for three pots and the brewing all-told might take forty minutes or more. This is very popular throughout The Gambia. On special occasions fresh mint and condensed milk is added for an even more wonderful treat.

Coffee is not readily available here. I have found one grocery store in Kombo that sells it but it is very expensive. (If you're looking for a good gift...) Nescafe’ is popular but I can’t seem to be able to make the switch. Recently I discovered a small Lebanese-run cafĂ© near the American Embassy that offers pastries, espresso, and ice cream. I bought a shot for 35 dalasis (worth every penny, shamelessly and absolutely) which I gulped quickly and then spent the next hour sniffing the empty cup. They also have wireless internet making it one of only a few places in the whole country where web-surfing is possible.

Clothing is always made locally and to order so tailors are everywhere. The women wear beautifully crafted dresses and head-wraps from such cloths as poplin, mbasan, wax (dyed cotton), and borode. Men have their clothes made too and they wear knit hats or tight little head caps. A style that many children enjoy is to wear second-hand clothing shipped in from the US, Germany, and Italy. I once read an interesting article written by someone who followed several tons of clothing from a second-hand store in New York City to India and the author remarked about how unexpected it is to find people across the globe wearing t-shirts with Madonna’s picture or slogans such as “I taught your boyfriend that thing you like.”

Another thing that is different from America is shopping. In village there are small bitiks where you can buy staples such as a bar of lye for laundry, a sack of sugar for attaya, or some candles. Luumos are weekly open-air markets not unlike the grower’s markets that I am used to except that in addition to produce and fish, one will also find machetes, clothing, and sandals. The peanut butter you can buy there is from freshly picked and roasted peanuts. In the larger towns are street vendors for everything from mobile phones to freshly made bean sandwiches. Dry-goods shops sell typical hardware, groceries, and solar panels. The thing that is different from the States though is that nothing is priced and you should bargain for everything. The typical exchange is that you ask the shopkeeper how much something costs and then scoff at the inflated price he gives and offer to pay half. Then the two of you go back and forth until you finally agree. If the seller accepts your offer quickly then you know that you are probably still paying too much. The best practice is to start to walk away until you are called back and then make a deal.

The Gambia is almost 90% Muslim. People go to great lengths to practice the Five Pillars of Islam and they are very devoted to their religion. People here pray five times a day though no-one has ever preached to me. There are no pressures to change one’s beliefs and everyone is quite tolerant. I enjoy hearing the call-to-prayer (even at five in the morning) being sung from the mosques. I am not an expert on religion and so I feel unqualified to remark on Islam to any great extent. That said, living here is not like I had expected based upon the US media’s portrayal of Islam and I am pleasantly surprised by the differences.

While village-life can be harsh and quiet, there are contrasts to being a Peace Corps Volunteer (well officially I am still a PC Trainee). One example of this was Thanksgiving: In the morning I was awakened by donkeys braying in a tiny village where I fetch water from a pump well and go to the bathroom in a hole in the ground. That same evening I was eating cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes, and pumpkin pie in the Ambassador’s mansion with a swimming pool and beautiful ocean view. Last night I ate chocolate cake and played rugby on the beach with a shrimp farmer, someone from the United Nations, and a couple of volunteers from Canada’s VSO. In a week I will make my home in a tiny village where roads and houses are made of dirt and subsistence farmers work from sun-up to sun-down to feed their families less than two kilometers from the tumultuous Cassamance region of Senegal. I have taken a boat ride from the Tendaba camp into the mangroves, petted a crocodile at the sacred Katchikali Pond, and viewed the city of Banjul from atop President Jammeh’s Arch 22.

Many of my fellow Trainees have commented that I am well-qualified for the kind of work that we are doing because of my background as a beekeeper, organic gardener, and anthropologist. While this might be true in some ways, there is so much here to observe- so much that is different from anything that I have ever known- that I feel so much like an explorer. This year celebrates forty continuous years of Peace Corps in the Gambia and I am proud and honored to be a part of this service. I swear-in on December 7 and leave for my village on December 9. That begins the “three month challenge” where trainees are supposed to sleep each night in their host village. This is to try to establish a good bond with our families and communities and to gain a good knowledge about the day-today life. It might be difficult for me to get to Kombo and so I won’t be able to communicate through the internet for a while. Once this period has ended though I hope to be able to update my blog monthly to keep you posted on my activities and whereabouts.

I hope that you all are healthy and happy.

A jarama. Haa Yesso.