Halfway Here Halfway Home

     I cannot believe one half of my service is already finished and I only have one half left to go. Time really does fly when you are having fun. I thought in this post I would share a bit about what I have learned my first year in this beautiful country and how this last year has changed me for the better.

1. New Customs: I eat differently (you all know my new found love for rice and fish on the daily), speak another language (Mandinka & Jola), dress traditionally, practice local ceremonies (naming, wedding, and funerals), all in just one year!

2. Professional Bargainer: Within reason, I will be stubborn and respectful in getting items for a fair price. No, I will not pay 100,000 Dalasis for a cab ride but I will pay 8, no I will not pay 8,000 Dalasis for 3 meters of fabric sheesh!

3. "Roughin' It": No, we don't have running water, electricity, a toilet, an oven, or air conditioning. Some would say we "Rough It." Now, even thought with the above, I still think I have it pretty darn good. I have a lovely family, wonderful friends, a roof over my head, and almost always a full rice belly.

4. Creativity: Living here has taught me to be creative with any materials I find. I have found creativity in ways I did not even know I had. Don't have a band-aid, that's okay tie a clean piece of cloth around your wound, MacGyver Medicine never looked so good.

5. Master of Moderation: We practice the art of moderation daily. Maybe it's in the water we use or with our flashlight batteries (the moon works for light most of the time), we just use less and moderate more. (Ok maybe not in Kombo when I eat though).

6. Fierce Independence: I know it's never bad to ask for help, but knowing I can work through almost any and every problem on my own is simply invaluable.

7. Humbling: I know this one seems cliche, but I really feel this way. I feel so blessed each and every day. I live in a palace back home and I did nothing to deserve that. 

8. We Sweat...But it Doesn't Have to be the Small Stuff: I try not to freak out about getting lost, waiting on the side of the road after my jele jele breaks down, or the green bus, and when plans I make never work. I have realized there is just no point, I will get there when I get there, and events may not be perfect but they will be something. 

9. Embrace Failure: My failures have sometimes turned into good and lovely events. If nothing else I have at least learned from them with good people.

10. Cherish the Small Moments: Some examples of these for me include cooking lunch with my mom, Attayah time after lunch under our cashew tree, watching baby Sargio my niece, impromptu dance sessions, laughter with my family during the wee hours of the night, Kora time in the coaster with Sam, cashew picking with my sister, teaching my sister how to read, dancing in the warm rain, shoving a watermelon in my face and getting messy, seeing my family after coming back from America for the first time with tears and laughter in our eyes, the list will continue to grow, the list is never ending, and my heart will remain too full if there is such a thing.

     Here is to another year happy, healthy, and living in The Gambia!

Konkoran Kookiness

“Aiiiiiiyyyeeeeeeeeeeeeee aiyeeeeeeeee aiyeeeeeeee!!!” *Cue clashing of cutlasses and screaming children running down the dirt path, enter stage left konkoran in full regalia.* Some of you may have experienced the fear and terror that comes with a konkoran, others of you may have only heard of such horror, but I am here to tell you not all konkorans are as they appear. In this edition of Myth busters and Misconceptions I will shed some light on what these bad boys do and the reason they do what they do.

            So you may be wondering “who can be a konkoran?” Can anyone put on the regalia and run around the village? The answer is no, all konkoran’s are male. These men are usually above the age of 25 and must have knowledge of spiritual-defense and the power for spirits to fear them. The purpose of the konkoran is mainly to protect people who are circumcised from evil spirits but they can also protect anyone in the village from malicious spirits as well. In my village, Besse, we had a konkoran come around after a mother gave birth. He did so because she had given birth to stillborn’s only and it was the konkoran’s job to protect this child from the evil spirits because the baby lived.

Konkoran’s can be found in many different events such as cultural events, drumming circles, fundraising, and after a circumcision ceremony is held. Male circumcision goes along with the Islam faith but the konkoran is more of a cultural tradition. A konkoran is present during all male circumcision ceremonies to be the young boys’ body guard. The konkoran also accompanies boys back to the village after the ceremony to keep them safe. Not all konkorans are meant to induce fear. A Zimba is the name of the konkoran who wears leaves and must be a phenomenal dancer; these konkorans can show their faces. The spiritual konkoran wears red bark, carries a cutlass, and is required to hide their face. A spiritual konkoran demands respect and must be feared by everyone, especially spirits, which is why they carry the cutlasses.

            Women are not allowed to know all the secrets of the konkoran and as a white woman, I was lucky to be let in on as much as my people would share. Ishmaila Ceesay, a friend in village said in this area there is really no gender equality and there really cannot be. Women must respect the konkoran and fear them more because there is superiority from men to women. Another reason people fear the konkoran is because they cannot be prosecuted by law.

            When we as guests in this country encounter a konkoran we should explain we are on our way somewhere and ask to be forgiven. If we have a token of some kind such as 5 dalasis or anything we should give a small token as a form of begging for being in the way of the konkoran. The konkoran is such a fun way to view this culture. Even when people are afraid and they run they enjoy the fear and fun that goes along with it. So next time you hear the konkoran’s cry, tighten your running shoes, and book it to the nearest compound with the rest of your screaming comrades. 

Marriage Mayhem

          One day after my IST was over my best friend Mata from next door came to visit me. She plopped herself down on my guest bed clearly frazzled about something going on. I asked her how she was and how she was doing the whole bit. She explained to me what had been happening in her life while I was away. She said one day a man showed up from Kombo and he was staying at the Besse lodge doing some cashew business. Unbeknownst to her he saw her one day and supposedly fell madly in love head over heels for her. He went to her compound and asked to see her and to speak with her. That very day he asked her mother for her hand in marriage. Her mother agreed much to Mata’s dismay. Mata’s father lives in Kombo and therefore the decision in this case goes to her mother. Mata was astonished. She has never met this man, does not know him, and here is the real kicker, she yells exasperatedly at me, “I DON’T LOVE HIM!”

            I begin wracking my brain trying to figure out what to do, what to say. I have never NEVER in my life had a friend come to me with this sort of problem before I was almost just as flabbergasted as she was. Finally, I console with her. I ask her if she has told her boyfriend. She explains to me she has and they are both very sad at the prospect. I ask her if she has talked to her mother about her interest in completing school (Mata is 20 years old in grade 8) and she says of course. Her mother is set on receiving the dowry for Mata’s marriage and they really could use the money. After Mata leaves my house I go to the only person I think can help, my fake father in village, who is actually my uncle, and language coach, but mainly friend and advisor. I explain everything to him and he is aghast.

            He takes my hand and marches me to Mata’s compound. He yells for Mata’s mother and commands I sit and watch the argument commence (mind you it is all in Mandinka so I am only catching bits and pieces). I catch things like, “she must finish school,” and “how can you be so stupid to sell your own daughter.” Long story short he pretty much berates her for being so foolish and tries to explain to her times are changing and school is so important for young women. The conversation ends with her mother trying to tell me Mata lied about everything and she is laughing hysterically. I ask Karrafa, my father why she is laughing. He explains to me it is because she is so ashamed about the situation. This situation just adds to my confidence, I am pretty dang integrated if I can understand a heated argument between adults and thwart a marriage for a young girl. Maybe the Gambians are learning to trust and respect me after all. So next time you’re wondering when your Prince or Princess Charming will spot you, be a little wary, you never quite know what to expect. 

Quarter of My Service Quarter of My Sanity…Gone

Where in the world does time go? This seems to be an everlasting life question for me haha. I have lived in The Gambia for six months and I cannot believe it! My three (actually four for health volunteers) month challenge is over and I am currently attending my IST (In-Service Training). Peace Corps really likes acronyms. We have a ton on the schedule for our three weeks of training but this time is so valuable. I am with ten of my co-health volunteers and we are seeking inspiration and knowledge from one another to take back to our own villages. We are all so ready to get back to site and start the work we came here to do. We will have sessions on malaria, how to apply for grants, family planning, female genital mutilation, pit latrine construction, soap making, HIV, complementary foods, care groups, environmental sanitation, gardening, and mural painting. Hopefully by the time we are finished we will all have a pretty good idea of what our primary projects will be and how to make them happen.

As for life in my village Besse, I feel like I am integrating well. Most if not all of my village knows me now and I am still trying to speak Mandinka and Jola to the best of my ability. I have held a health talk about malaria in my village as well as a Bed Net Bathe and Bedazzle program which the women loved. Many of the mother's in the village never had an opportunity to go to school when they were young so most cannot read or write. I have been politely asking many ladies if they would like to learn and there is a resounding YES all around. This may be my secondary project because the ladies are just so passionate about having the opportunity. Besse was recently involved in a region wide soccer tournament and we won. The village partied for about 3 days straight and made history. This is the first trophy Besse has ever received and they were thrilled with the honor.

As for integrating and melding into my family I am officially melded. Unfortunately, it took a bad incident to prove this to me but part of me felt proud to be involved in the situation and welcomed. When I left for my three week training my mother kept saying how much she would miss her sunkutu baa (big girl) and her sunkutu ding dingo (little girl) would miss me so much. When I left my mother shook my left hand which is a huge sign of respect. People here use their right hands for everything and their left for one thing only (wiping). I know this sounds gross but to have someone shake your left hand is actually a sign of honor, trust and respect. My kittens are getting too big too fast. Lankershim and Silafandoo (road gift) basically run the compound now. My hut is no longer mine but theirs and they have me well trained as to when they would like to eat, go out, and play.

Hot season is upon us and I am sweating my patootie off during the day, I am lucky the nights are still cool. After lunch my family, neighbors, and I usually sit under a cashew tree and brew attayah (green tea) because it is just too dang hot to do anything else. We sip water from a jiibida (big clay pot) which keeps the water cool. The other day I was sitting with only my mom and sister and my sister kept telling me toubab (white people) skin is softer and better than black people skin. I laughed and said no way they are the same. She said okay then prove it. I asked her to close her eyes (no peeking) and use her hand to feel her mom's arm then my arm. We did this several times in different order and she could never guess which arm belonged to which one of us. We were all laughing as she guessed and failed many times. Finally, she gave up and said okay there is no difference I suppose both are adyatta (sweet). I cherish moments like these under the cashew tree because time is spent with family, laughing is always contagious, and valuable lessons are often learned.

Something huge I have learned here so far is something I do not think I could have learned in the US. Truly nothing is in my hands, I have no control no matter how much I think I have. This country runs on community effort and basically zero planning and somehow things come together. I used to be so frustrated with transportation and how inefficient it was and now I think to myself if I get where I need to it does not matter how long it takes. I am adapting into someone who goes with the flow and lets silly worries go (which is weird for a type A planner). I have a roof over my head, food in my bowl, friends and family, I am healthy, there is clean water, and my village is safe. What more does a girl need? 

From Pump to Pit Latrine

          And so ends one month at site as I live my life here in Besse on the “Smiling Coast of Africa.” I cannot believe that just three months ago I was aboard the plane that took me from New York, to Brussels, to my new home in The Gambia. So I have learned very much and very little in the time that I have lived here in Besse. I am happy to share my moments of laughter and ignorance with all of you as I continue my journey.

            I fondly remember my first day in village getting dropped off at site hearing John the Driver say, “okay Miss Bremner see you in three months.” I don’t think at that moment his words truly hit me. I was just happy to unload all my things into one place and live there for two years what he said did not matter in the slightest. Until the next morning when I woke up and realized, “holy Moses I am here for two years.” Slowly but surely days passed. I learned that weeks truly do go by faster than days here. The days seem to drag but then Sunday comes around and I think, “Wow! I have already made it through another week.” The nights began getting colder and I was surprised when I woke up one night shivering and under my sheet. I never EVER thought I would be cold in Africa but surprise surprise I was for sure. I tried many times to rearrange my hut to my liking but when you have no furniture there really is no way to arrange your hut. So I went to the carpenter and asked him to make me a desk, a chair, and a bookcase. Sufficient to say I am happy with my furniture and the way my hut is arranged now. I have painted a quote wall and put up all my pictures and cards I have received from home. I think it feels pretty dang homey now and it truly feels like my own home.

            I have gotten pretty good at the following tasks: fetching water (it is super heavy and I struggle daily to carry it, the women laugh at my weakness, but hey I’m doing it), watering my garden morning and nightly, aiming in a hole (you get the idea), catching lizards, killing bugs, knocking down termite homes and mud wasp nests, cooking lunch with my mom, shooing nosy children away from my door, not caring about stopping to talk to every single person on the road (this used to frustrate me beyond all reason but it’s necessary in this culture), dancing at naming ceremonies, and teaching silly children’s songs to kids haha.

            I am still struggling with the following tasks: picking the bones out of my fish (I end up eating a lot of bones), eating with my right hand (sounds fun, is actually very difficult), doing laundry, taking baths with cold water, finding cow pies to use for fertilizer in our gardens (they are huge so why can’t I find them?), transplanting my garden, learning language continuously, holidays away from the family (it’s not a task but it’s a struggle), pumping the well, pounding rice or coos, burning my trash in a pit or throwing it on the ground, not shouting toubab when I see another white person, my baseline.

            I am trying not to dwell on the things I miss from the US but then I realize it is okay to miss those things just try not to be obsessive about it. If you ate rice and fish every day you may go a little food crazy as well. So I have created a list of all the food I want to eat when I go back and let me tell you it is an extensive list which, when I look at it, makes me hungry and homesick haha. I am still happy I made it and judge me how you must. I also made a list of books I want to read and their authors while I am here so if you have any suggestions feel free to comment. I have cooked for myself a total of one time and I made myself eggs with garlic salt and Heinz ketchup and I thought I died and went to heaven. I also got a terrible sinus infection because of this cold season, which I refuse to curse because I know in the hot season I will be yearning for it. I took some amoxicillin and it cleared me right up so nobody panic.  

            Besse competed in the semi-final for football and we won! It was huge talk in the village and we are waiting to play the championship game in the weeks to come. I just realized I am saying “we” like I am playing and that is far from the case. I’m just part of the fan club of screaming girls on the sideline, but hey that’s almost like playing right? Besse has never taken the trophy so I am hoping I bring good luck to the village and we take the championship trophy.  

            I am half way through the baseline I need to conduct to get to know my village better and its health needs. So far I have found I need to educate about malaria and nutrition. I am going to a malaria expo in Kombo that will hopefully prepare me for this sort of teaching. I also worked at my RCH clinic yesterday. This clinic is a once a month visit for the mothers of the village and surrounding villages. They bring their babies up to five years old and we weigh them, record their weight progression, see if they need vaccines and check their overall health. This clinic is the most hectic and rewarding experience I have had here so far. I look forward to it every second Wednesday of the month. I held a two-day-old baby and went to his naming ceremony and it was absolutely amazing. Knowing I will watch him grow for the next two years into a toddler is a wonderful gift.

            I am thankful for my family here in Besse and our time by the fire during this cold season. I am happy to teach them some jokes from the US and cook some food for them as well. They love hearing about my friends and family from home and I love sharing. The Gambian people are THE MOST GENEROUS people I have ever come to know and I am amazed by their generosity daily. My posts always seem so long and I know it’s because I ramble but I enjoy my ramble and I hope you enjoy reading it. And so I end where I began to go fetch water from the pump so it can eventually go through a vicious cycle and end up back in my pit latrine…