It's Only Just Begun...

       I have been in country now for a whopping 63 days or a little over two months (not that I’m counting or anything)! The Gambia is such a beautiful country in a very unique way and I am excited to share some of my experience with my readers here.

         Training was the slowest, toughest, and maybe longest two months of my life ever. The emotional and mental roller coaster I went through was unlike anything I have experienced before. Each day was unlike the prior and nothing like what was to come. I feel so happy to be done with that part of the journey and thrilled to move on to the next leg of the path. Before I talk about life a little bit after training days let me share some of my favorite and least favorite memories.

         When I arrived in The Gambia on October 17, 2014 the country immediately sang to me with the hustle and bustle of Kombo life. We went to GPI, which is where we were to stay for the first week in country. My first night here was an adventure to say the least. Around 3am I awoke to swollen lips, swollen fingers, and a tight throat. I couldn’t breath or talk I could barely move. Luckily I happened to be roommates with the only nurse in our group of 26, Miss Cameron (also known as Kumba). She woke up to me stumbling around the room and quickly realized I was having an allergic reaction to the insecticide treated bed net. She dashed to her suitcase and whipped out two Benedryl. My throat was so closed I could hardly even swallow one of the two. Once the Benedryl started taking effect I tried to calm down and breath. The doctor on call came and picked me up and I spent the rest of my night in the PCMU (Peace Corps Medical Unit) throwing up and not sleeping. I was too scared to sleep under the net the whole rest of the time I stayed at GPI. I was not feeling very warmly welcomed to The Gambia that night. However, once I got to my training village things changed for the better.

         I arrived in Kaiaf, the training village I would stay in for the next eight weeks. When the bus pulled up to the village at least 50 children ran from all around the village chasing the bus and screaming, “toubab, toubab, toubab.” Needless to say I was a little overwhelmed at the first sight of my village. We loaded my things into the house and I awkwardly sat outside not understanding a word of anything anyone was saying. Culture shock was an understatement for what I was feeling. I received my dinner bowl from my host mom, which was the spiciest red sauce I had ever tasted, mixed with fish, and rice. I took one bite and cried with overwhelming feelings that I would never get used to the culture, food, or people (maybe I was being a little overly dramatic but you try getting dropped off in a place you don’t understand a thing). Anyway it got tons better day by day. I slowly started to understand some of the language, Mandinka. This was due to my nutcase of a teacher and language culture facilitator Bakary Camara. Without him I never would have survived eight weeks let alone two years. A normal day in my life consisted of me waking up at 7am and greeting my family members Babunding (Grandfather), Nyomi (Grandmother), Bakarimo (Grandchild), Bunja (Dad), Anna (Mom), Mariama (Mom), Howa (Mom), Ansuman or Ozzy (Brother), Isatou (Sister), and Bubacar (Brother). I would eat breakfast and head to school with Bakary, Garret, Sarah, and Rollin. We would have class until 1pm then eat lunch. We would break after 2:30pm for gardening, fetching water, and playing games. Then around 6pm we would go home, bathe, and hang out with our families, eat dinner, and sleep. Wash, rinse, and repeat.

         In this village I had my naming ceremony that was really crazy and super fun. My mom Anna dressed me in traditional African dress most people call a completo. I felt beautiful and the day was about me and my new name. My whole family walked me over to the ceremony and one by one every toubab got a new name. I took my turn to sit in the chair and the Imam symbolized shaving my head. They do this for newborn babies and then throw a huge party. My family chose the name Isatou (Ice-uh-two) Sanneh (Sawn-ay) for me as my new name after my brother Bunja’s mother and his daughter. When you have the same name as someone it is called your namesake or your toma. After we all received our names a dance party commenced around a drum (bidong). It was definitely a day to remember.

         I have many happy memories with my host family in my training village so I will only share a few. Looking at the stars with the children and teaching them about shooting stars. I told them when they see those stars they get to make a wish and they loved that! Walking with Bunja and Ozzy to the farm where they have cattle and seeing how beautiful the bush (bush is like another name for the country) actually is. I also got to milk a cow here, which has been on my bucket list forever, and pick my own watermelon. I learned how to pound coos from my mother Anna in a large mortar as women near and far laughed at my weak attempt to do so. I helped Anna was dishes with dirt and soap (I know my mind was blown too) washing with dirt actually gets the dishes really clean it’s like using a natural earth made brillow pad. Freaking out at an infestation of ants on steroids around my door as I opened it one morning. Once again Anna came to the rescue with a broom as I screamed and sprayed Bop (bug spray) everywhere. I got to pick and grill corn over charcoal with small boys. Starting my first garden, which was only successful because my family took it over after day one. Did I mention all the bugs, bugs, bugs, buggy, bugs. They are everywhere and I never realized how much of a sissy I am when it comes to them until I moved here. To be fair, when a spider is bigger than the shoe you are trying to use to kill it, that’s some scary s#!*. Not just spiders galore, but ants that can probably eat you, beetles that pee acid, and earwigs/pincher bugs that aren’t the least bit afraid of you, your shoe, or the bug spray you’re trying to use. One morning I woke up to 19 mosquito bites on my left thigh (mind you I went to sleep at 8pm before they came out, slept in pants, and under a mosquito net, riddle me that one). I built my family a tippy-tap, which is a device so they can have running water to wash their hands. I harvested and roasted ground nuts (peanuts), which may be some of the hardest work I have ever done in my life. I sat with many children on many a night and told them fairytale stories and listened to their stories. I went to a Jellybah concert (he’s a famous singer and Kora player here in The Gambia). As I was leaving in my American clothes my mother Anna rushed me into her house, stripped me down, and put me in the most beautiful completo I have worn so far (she sometimes felt like my fairy godmother). I played many a game under the cool neme tree with my classmates. I was able to read eight books in eight weeks which may be a new record for me. I bargained a jele jele (a super shady mode of transportation that everyone uses and is totally fine with in this country) from 50 Dalasi down to 15. I’ve told about 100 or more children my name is not Toubab and when they ask me for candy or money I ask them for their head (it’s appropriate in this culture…just don’t ask haha). I watched a colleague get a goat kick to the head and after making sure he was okay laughed hysterically for about 15 minutes. I watched another comrade trip a child with a stick (trust me if you knew this particular child you would have encouraged it as well) again we laughed for far too long. I never thought I would be one to encourage that sort of behavior and although I did not encourage it I did participate in the laughter to come. To be fair the child thought it was really funny too. The last memory I will share because this post is far too long is when I went to visit my site I made a new friend. I was walking around my compound enjoying the sight of my new home when a lizard above me lost his grip on the roof and found his new grip on my face. I screamed and flung him about two compounds over, he had the ride of his life, and I had two scratches on my face to prove my near death experience. I think it was a win win situation.

         Not everything I have written about was funny at the time or sunshine and roses all the time, but I am learning to go back and look at all the good and positives that came from it all. Let me tell you the good times definitely outweigh the bad so far, but it’s only just begun…

The views, thoughts, opinions, and reflections posted in this blog do not represent the beliefs of the United States Government and are solely my own.