On the Road Again

I’m back! Back from the road...again. This time, from a full week’s worth of entertaining and informing young and old alike in communities of the Upper River Region (URR). I was stationed in Basse—the hub of URR action and, as it turns out (despite its mere 300kms distance from Fajara), a long drive...try almost 8 hours. But, the drive itself is lovely, the “highway” is well-manicured, the scenery at times is breath-taking, and I got to take two ferry rides each way, as we criss-crossed the River Gambia heading up-country.

Sunrise at Georgetown Ferry on the River Gambia

Now, like my previous roadie, the purpose of the expedition was to educate and inform youth about the dangers of HIV/AIDS and empower them with the necessary Life Skills to live happily and healthily. This time, however, we were dealing with out-of-school youth (aged 20-45). Everything proceeded famously, although much of the training was done in the Mandinka language...of which I am still a basic novice in comprehension, oral and certainly written...but I’m learning!

The highlights of the trip for me, however, were the evening soccer training sessions (here forth known as “football”) at the local pitch...err sandlot, followed by the nightly presentation of NSGA’s community cinema shows put on by my partner in crime, Pa-Madou Sarr (NSGA Media expert and trainer). Each night, myself and Pa, with Uncle Sanna at the wheel would head into a different small village on the outskirts of Basse and set up shop with our two speakers, stereo system, projector and screen, to show one of the many dramas recorded by the NSGA drama troupers (these skits deal with a wide range of health issues including teenage preganancy and early marriage).

See video below. (Err...don't. I tried to upload a video, but the connection here is too slow. Just one of the challenges at hand)

To top the whole trip off, upon the completion of our workshops, the local Basse Youth Association hosted a friendly football match in which yours truly suited up (luckily, as I mentioned, I had been training throughout the week) and stole the show...well not really, at times I felt I was wading through quicksand out on the dust and dirt. I would be running to receive a ball on terre firma when all of a sudden the earth would give way and I would be ankle deep in sand. I kid you not, it’s a whole different kettle of fish from what I’m used to dealing with back home. But, I did manage to set up a beauty goal (long ball chased down by one of the many Speedy Gonzalez’s out playing...man these guys can motor) and at the end of the second 25-minute half we were knotted at two goals apiece.

Basse Red Devils...and white guy

There is lots more to tell about my time in Basse, but I’ll save those stories and offer a steady dose of blog action as this week passes...my treat to all you faithful followers out there.

Glad to be back at the homestead...M.C. and I indulged in a few JulBrew’s as we debriefed Friday down at the beach (M.C. had been in the Central River Region village of Somma) and then hit the “town” with a cluster of U.S. Peace Corps members celebrating the Thanksgiving weekend. 

So yeah, glad to be back in Old Jeshwang and connected here in Fajara...but to be honest...I can’t wait to get on the road again.

Till next time, Don’t Stop Believin.

Matty

***

Follow @Matty_TheGambia on Twitter for all your Gambian updates and thoughts.

Holy Tobaski!!

Back home, the holidays are a time of celebration and gathering among family and friends. We dress up; good food and drink are shared; games are played; and laughter is at a paramount. This practice, it would seem, is universal...and our observance of the Tobaski feast has shown us so.

Tobaski...with an I (the Coles Notes version), as it was explained to me, is the annual Islamic festival of sacrifice; which  celebrates the ancient prophet, Ibrahim’s, promise to God that he would sacrifice his son, Ismail. God, in return and out of appreciation for Ibrahim’s gesture, replaced the son with a ram to be sacrificed instead.

***(You may want to read up on Tobaski on your own to get the story straight...obtaining accurate information all the time is a struggle with the resources available here)***

And, so it was that M.C. and I witnessed the slaughter...er, sacrifice of two rams on Tuesday.

***

Here on The Smiling Coast, two naive Canadians set out early on a sunny—everyday is sunny—Tuesday morning, alongside their Gambian colleague and friend, Nuru Sey, to join him and his family in the celebration.

Nuru stopped by our homestead in Old Jeshwang promptly at 9:30am, and we strolled to the main thoroughfare where we (Nuru) whistled down a worn 12 passenger van (public transport)—the old Doakmobile has nothing on this thing—with more than 12 locals aboard, to take us to the Sey family house in Busumballa (about a half hour trip). We were happily greeted by the Sey family (mother, brothers, sisters, in-laws, nephews and niece) with open arms.

Sacrifice of the Ram

By 11am, the men of the house—yours truly excluded—were dragging the first of two Rams to a hole dug in the soil, where the animal’s blood and innards would be drained and covered in hopes of fertilizing the arid land in the year ahead. I have to be honest; I was initially unsure of whether or not I would be able to watch the ram being slain, but it really was not as much of a struggle as I had anticipated.

Throat slit; blood drained; quick, easy and efficient... and on to the next Ram. Once both animals lay completely lifeless and devoid of excess blood, it was on to the skinning and dismembering of the bodies, and beginning of the barbeque. MMMMMMMM dericious!

Nuru (in yellow) with brothers and niece skinning sacrificed ram

By 12 noon, M.C. and I were enjoying a lovely dish of liver and onions (gamey), accompanied by chips (homemade fries) and salad. Rest assured that I took it upon myself to make certain that no trace of meat was left for the flies.

Game time!!

Soon after finishing up “Breakfast”, our colleague Muhammed and his wife Kelly (a native of Moncton, NB) arrived with their Scrabble board and Muhammed and I took to action.

I got pumped.

Turning point in the game... I decided not to challenge the use of the word “vetos”, which he had placed in a spot that would garner him over 40 points. I teetered back and forth for several minutes over whether or not the pluralized use of the word should read “vetoes” before I decided to let it stand. Bad move...game over.

I did redeem myself—somewhat—with much more closely contested win over M.C., before the real entertainment took place, in the form of Nuru and his older brother, Bashir, head-to-head at the scrabble board. Never in all my life have I seen such an “oilly” (yes, it was that type of game) and underhanded match at the board game table. But, for all those who observed, the sheer amount of pleasure and laughter that came from watching the two brothers try to outsmart and out- manoeuvre each other was priceless. Best part...the game was interrupted by an irreconcilable argument, and a winner could never truly be declared (although Nuru was ahead by a wide margin at that point).

More Food and more games

By 4:30-5pm, having snacked throughout the afternoon, “Lunch” was served. A large helping of Benechin (meal made from one pot)—rice with meat, pumpkin and eggplant—was served, and again...I ate plenty.

Before being able to fully digest the soccer ball was out and a 2v2 game was established just out the walls to the yard. To touch a ball for the first time since arriving here in The Gambia was FANTASTIC. Despite the size and condition of our playing surface—dust and rocks—the boys and I enjoyed a good 45 minutes of exercise and competition, and again...laughter. I proved, once again, to myself and to those around me, that I am NOT a goal scorer (no comments needed from anyone).

Sergio |Ramos digs in...

By 7:30pm, we were on our way back to the apartment to recover from and recast the day in our heads.

The Dress

Something I must mention is the traditional garb sported by most throughout the Tobaski celebration.  Now, in the run of a week (most prominently on Fridays) we will come across handfuls of locals decked out in the most colourful and vivacious of outfits. However, Tobaski represents a special opportunity for Gambians to truly and visibly show their pride in themselves, their faith and their land. The array of colors on the young kids, especially, is something to see.

Nuru's two nephews and niece

***

The dress, the family and friends, the food and drink (although non-alcoholic), the games and the laughter...it was just like being at home, and we were certainly made to feel as so.

Until next time...Don’t Stop Believin.

***

FYI: Just today we were able to hit market with Uncle Sanna at the wheel to bargain for ourselves two beauty sets of our own wheels...second-hand bikes (I got a red, three-speed). We are ready to roll from here on in.

Also, we are back on the road for a full week come tomorrow morning. We look forward to sharing our experience “up-country” upon our return...next weekend.

Matty 

We're gonna walk down to Kairaba Avenue...and then go on computer (you know the tune)

UPDATE: Had a big victory with the temperamental shower last night. Got home from the office at 6:15, grabbed a small snack, threw on my runners and headed out for a 5k jog. Got back went to the shower...no pressure. EEENNNNN, I said. Took a five minute break to stretch and have a drink of water, went back to the shower, and...YEEEES temperamental shower! Pressure. Oh the small victories in life.

UPDATE Con’t: Today...not so lucky. Whoomp whooooomp. (View bucket shower procedure--previous post). 

***

On Today’s edition of “The World According to Matty” >>> Kairaba Avenue

Kairaba Avenue is the main artery that dissects Fajara from West to East. And, as it has come to be, our one-stop shop for, well...everything.

Starting at the water’s edge, Kairaba Avenue is the primary route for visitors to the area, and locals alike, to take to the gorgeous, and seemingly endless, Fajara Beach (it keeps going, and going, and going, and...). From the beach heading east, the avenue is bursting with restaurants; small, medium and large, one “barber’s shop” (but many beauty salons), a soon-to-reopen night club, several travel agencies, fruit-stands and vendors, lunch counters (for what appears to be a local delicacy...the chicken and cheese sub), as well as the infamous bookshop Tim”book”too (insert laugh track here), which lies just off the street. As you pass the former NSGA office (recently vacated by my colleagues) you approach what I have come to revere as a national landmark of sorts in the The Gambia, “The Street Light” (More to come on “The Street Light” in a later post).

Crossing “The Street Light”, where Kairaba intersects with the coastal “highway”, we come upon more fruit & vegetable stands, a GALP gas station (air conditioned...yeeeeeeeees air conditioning), the Standard Chartered Bank ( air conditioned...insert Matty happy quote here), tailor shops, garment shops, appliance and electronics shops, Supermarkets—we’ve now frequented both Safeway and Harry’s and are still trying to decide where our allegiance will lie, cellular providers, restaurants with wireless internet (our early favourite being La Parisienne—Gelato, air conditioning, and seemingly always a European soccer match on the television, although the internet is hit and miss with our laptops) and so on, and so forth. Kairaba continues for a good clip, until you arrive at Westfield junction, where the avenue intersects and ends at the road into Banjul.

Essentially, Kairaba is the hub of action in our still to be explored neighborhood. The early issue, however, that has risen for M.C. and I, is that Kairaba is a half-hour walk from our apartment in Old Jeshwang. Now, I know that isn’t far and I’m not looking for sympathy. I can handle the walk. But, a half-hour walk in the presence of the “Heat Monster” scares Matty into a sweaty mess. If absolutely necessary, there are cabs aplenty constantly roaming the highway to Kairaba that we stroll—which intersects where???...that’s right, at “tThe Street Light”—and they are supposed to charge us no more than 5 Dalasi (20 cents) for the trip. What more often than not happens, however, is that M.C. and I are caught bargaining down from 50 Dalasi with the cabbie, to take us for 25 Dalasi total (approx. $1). Again, I’m not looking for sympathy.

Our normal routine has involved finishing work for the day, heading home for a quick bite and some exercise, and then taking the trek into Kairaba for some personal time on the internet (only every second or third day though). We’re doing our best to stay in touch with those at home to keep you all updated on our adventure here on The Smiling Coast.

Until next time, Don’t Stop Believin,

Matty

***

FYI: M.C. and I head out on our first roadie here in The Gambia on Thursday. We are off respectively to the CRR (Central River Region) and URR (Upper River Region)—deep into the country, to help deliver HIV/AIDS & Life Skills workshops to community youth groups as part of the NSGA mandate (More to come on the work of the NSGA upon our return from “the field”).