An Interesting Day

Had an interesting day at work yesterday. It takes two taxis, D9, and 30-45 minutes to get to Banjul (if your lucky). After I arrived in Banjul I realized that the place I thought the Census was, wasn’t. I was supposed to be there at ten. After walking around until a quarter before I just hired a taxi. He didn’t know either and was asking people himself. It’s basically like being in DC and asking someone where the Department of Labor, for example, is. They all know that it’s here somewhere, but very few people know exactly. The taxi driver gave up. I eventually found it, a half hour late, but they didn’t care. They found it odd that most people actually weren’t showing up for work today. That should have been a hint, if it wasn’t in reality quite common of people not showing up.

The first thing I did was ask my coworker to draw me a map of Banjul so I get there on time from now on. He laughed, starting drawing and even included landmarks. Basically the landmarks were the equivalent of a McDonalds, a Gas Station, and a park.

About an hour later the power went out, along with the AC. So we opened a window and starting talking by the window. He was telling me what projects they had coming up, what I could do, what programs they use, etc. At around 12:30 he noticed a lot of people were running outside. We just both watch people run for a few seconds before my cell phone rang.

“Mike? Bear. Are you in Banjul?”
“Yes, I’m at work”
“You might want to get back to the Office. I just received a call from Marc.
Something’s happening. You might not be able to get out of Banjul later. ”
“O. K. Thanks. ”

Hung up and told my supervisor that I had to go and that I don’t know when I’ll be back. He smiled understandably, we exchanged cell phone numbers, and he walked me down stairs and around the corner to the car park for me to get a ride out. He went back to work, but told me if I couldn’t get a ride out by 4:30 then they will take me.

I didn’t know what the ‘something’ was; but I could tell that yes, “something”, was going on. For three city blocks straight were the 15-passenger vans packed full of people. When a new one arrived people scrambled to get in. Every taxi was full. I tried getting into any taxi, big or small, but all were filled to capacity and more. What was more was that every money exchange shop were closed, the black market dealers were nowhere to be seen, most shops were closed, children were out of school, and people were running.

Usually I carry in my wallet enough money for the day, usually D50 (it’s D18 round trip to work, and the rest for breakfast/lunch). Today I had D100, and my “emergency” five-dollar bill I had folded up, for that “just-in-case” scenario. This was a just-in-case case.

I took out D25 and the $5 bill and told a “bumpster” that if he got me a cab to go to the American Embassy he can have the D25. The Embassy is a block away from the Peace Corps Office. The bumpster ran away and two minutes later, out nowhere, mixed with cabs full of people came an empty cab just for me, along with the bumpster inside. Later I was told that the taxi driver most likely kicked everyone out of his own cab just to give me a ride.

I held out the $5 bill and the taxi driver agreed, but as we were about to pull away he changed his mind and wanted Dalasi instead. D200 of it. The $5 is worth anywhere from D150 to D190 depending on who you go to. He didn’t want mixed money either (US and Dalasi). I still hadn’t given the bumpster the D25 so he hopped inside and told the taxi driver where to go to get money exchanged, even though every place was closed.

We arrived next to a bank where a money exchange shop was located, both closed. The bumpster and I got out, he knocked on the side door and the owner opened the door. They exchanged words and the owner took my $5 and told me “30” meaning D30/$1. A bit low, but you couldn’t really argue in that situation. I agreed. He took the five, gave me D150 and as we were about to leave he shouted, “Wait!” and looked at me angrily. He marched over to the other desk, took out a counterfeit pen and made a mark on the bill. His expression changed 180, looked up and said “O. k. Thanks. Goodbye” and shut the door.

Got back to the taxi, paid the taxi driver the D150 and D50 more, the bumpster D25, and the taxi driver gave the bumpster a little too. And we took off. The road was packed full of people all wanting to get a ride but he rode past all of them. When we got to the bridge the usual Police Stop was in affect (which honestly only saw a few cars before getting stopped). Now most cars were stopped. We were allowed through.

Drove the 20 minutes to the Embassy; can’t park in front of it, so he drops me off at the Peace Corps office. Where I wanted to go anyway. Walked in and went to the volunteer lounge. There were about a dozen volunteers wondering what’s happening. The Senegalese radio was saying it was an attempted coup d'état. The Peace Corps security person was on the phone with the Embassy, the Embassy on the phone with both Washington and also Senegal to get and compare more information.

The “something” was in fact, a relative nothing. The government wanted to stop the high rate of inflation that was happening and so they were going to do it by two ways: 1. Order all shops to reduce prices; below the prices they bought the products for; and 2. Arrest all black market money exchangers. They decided to do both simultaneously on the same day, on a Monday, without telling anyone ahead of time. Most shops protested by closing up for the day and sending people home. The black market dealers started running away from the police, which got other people wondering why they’re running and why people are closing up shop, so they start running. Pretty soon a whole panic happened, enhanced my Senegalese radio saying it was a coup. An hour or so later every cab in Banjul was full of people trying to get out.

A few volunteers were actually stuck on the bridge at the time going into Banjul when everything happened. For a half-hour they were trying to get a ride back and were about to call Diana (The country director) to have them be picked up by Peace Corps when they found a ride. Another volunteer’s principal was stuck in Banjul until late evening.

Everyone made it back, and when the public realized it wasn’t anything even close to a coup everything started settling down. Today is basically back to normal. It was just a big scare for everyone.

-MIke

The Past Week

Hello!

Moved into my house less then a week ago. I was the second-to-last person to move in throughout our group. This was due to a misunderstanding. I thought I couldn’t move in because they lost the key, so I didn’t request to move in. They were wondering why I wasn’t requesting to move in, so didn’t tell me to move in. After a few more days living at the Hostel it became clear that I could move in at anytime and that there was in fact a key. They were just making a second one for the landlord.





Had a talk with the landlords today, an elderly couple about 60-70 years old, about laundry, rent, cleaning, safety, etc. Apparently the people that live in Fajara (Bear, Greta, and I) are in the relatively safest part of the country since a good minority of our neighbors are either former or current military personal. That, and we’re also walking distance from the Vice President’s house, makes it quite safe. Bear and Greta also have an advantage by being on the northern side of Pipeline (“Kariaba Avenue”, the main road. Pipeline is the local name) and are somehow connect to the power grid of some VIP in Government who needs electricity. As such, they have electricity almost every hour of the day. I live on the south side (by 100 ft) and am lucky if I have half the day, if that. It’s quite odd how a 100 feet makes a difference.

From where I live I walk north the 100 ft to the main road, turn towards the Ocean for a block, turn right and go up three blocks and I’m at the Fishbowl. It’s the nickname given to the apartment that Bear, Greta and current volunteers are sharing. It’s the oldest Peace Corps residence in country; their first PC resident was in 1975 and have been ever since. They also get a little lucky by that in the corner of their compound the owner’s are building a mini-store (Imagine a VERY small 7-11). If they want some coke, candles, bread, or the sort they just go downstairs.

The past week has been somewhat full of going out to eat, checking out what’s expensive, what’s affordable, and where never to go to again. As such, I’ll begin with the food. It might sound like we go out daily, but that’s far from the case. During the weekdays we usually eat from the bidicks, which are a hole-in-the-wall street shops, that you can get a sandwich for around D5. It’s usually only the weekends in which we splurge a little.



Near the three of us there is Weezo’s and Safari Garden. It has become somewhat of a tradition in our group that whenever anyone decides to go home, ET (“Early Termination”), we go Weezo’s. The owner is English and the food tries to be Mexican. It’s very expensive by our standards, but a very good deal for Americans and Tourists. Excluding any drink you might think you can afford, the meals are roughly in the D200-D300 range. The last time I was there I ordered chicken wrapped in banana leaves for D250. No Gambian can afford to go there and so all we see are Europeans (very few Americans come to The Gambia). Been there three times and each time had the same table, so it has become to be known as the ET table.

The Safari Garden we been to this morning for breakfast and might become our Sunday tradition, I think. You can have an analogous to a “Grand Slam” for only D80. Marc, who use to be a PC Volunteer here five years ago and is now here on a Fulbright Scholarship, told them how to make Banana Splits, that for only D65.

Near Kate’s house is the popular place called “Come Inn”. You’d almost miss it if you didn’t know if it was there. They serve a half-chicken with salad and chips (French fries) for only D80. It’s a nice way to end the week.

During the hot days you can find most of the Kombo volunteers by the ocean at a place called Laybato’s. Today for example, from Weather. com it lists Banjul as 93, but “feels like” 110. It’s been unusually hot this past week, and expecting to get hotter still. We are near the end of the rainy season and so the rain will stop but the heat is still there. So usually October is the hottest month of the year and then it starts getting cool, but no rain. The cold dry season will arrive. By cold, I mean by their standards, it will be quite comfortable for us. I have yet to sleep under the covers and my bed still looks the same as the first day I arrive. The only days I’ve actually slept under covers was the week during swearing in when we were at the hotel and we had the AC on full blast.




That lists the fun stuff that we’ve done, now the work part. Greta has been getting busy quite fast and already has a full week ahead of us. Kate and Bear are usually at the University everyday for a few hours trying to get the computer lab working properly. I was suppose to meet the faculty members but they told me to come back on Monday, same as the Census people. So one day I went along with Kate and Bear to help out. While they were trying to configure each computer I had the task of testing a big box full of keyboards and mice. When I finished I felt I couldn’t help anymore since by that time they were way ahead of me trying to configure each computer for student versus administrator use with passwords and different setups for each log-in, etc. They have about two more weeks left before classes start. On Monday I start the Census Bureau (finally) and can keep busy. So far I’ve just been reading either Ayn Rand’s “Fountainhead” or the new book you sent me on “Fundamentals of Astrodynamics” (interesting stuff!)

A bit about something I witnessed a few weeks ago, which I believe should enhance the feeling of safety. I was in a grocery store talking to the manager when I heard this scream that vibrated throughout the entire store. At first I thought it was just a mother or father beating their child for doing something, which unfortunately happens daily, but the scream was more grown-up. The manager didn’t flitch, he just casually kept on talking to me as the screams continued getting more and more agonizing. Finally the door to the office flew open, a teenager with tears draining his eyes and blood streaks across his white shirt on his back ran as fast as he could away. Another man exited the office, came up the manager and I, handed back the manager a whip and four knives. I looked at the man, the knives, the whip, and finally the manager. The manager gave a shrug, as if this happened daily (but really doesn’t), and explained that the teenager stole the knives and was trying to sell them on the street for half as much. The price for one knife, out of the four, was D120. [They were quite good knives!] That’s enough, just for one knife, to buy thirty loaves of bread. Enough to feed a family for days. If he was successful in selling all four knives at half price he could have, theoretically, buy 60 loaves of bread!

This enhances a feeling of security, as my landlord told me, is that no one steals as they know the consequences they might get if they get caught. Granted there’s isolated causes and a few petty thefts but for the most part they don’t steal. And if that’s the punishment for stealing a few knives, I wonder what’s the punishment will be for stealing something of ours with current and former military personals as our neighbors! I still lock my door, of course.

Another story, not mine, but I did not see it told on the website yet, was concerning one of us during training. In the training village, he woke up to find a mattress drying on top of his thatch roof. He asked his host family why it was drying and how did it get wet. Apparently his younger host brother, age around five, wet the mattress. The volunteer didn’t see him all day. It wasn’t until late at night that the five year old showed up. He knew he would get beaten for wetting the bed and so he hired a gelly-gelly (“bush taxi”) to Soma (somewhat big city) for a few hours to hide. He didn’t think of coming back to the village until late at night. (And this is a five year old!). He came out and his mother, of course, started beating him with a stick. His older brother ran away to the hut and came back with a bigger stick!

This past week we also had visitors. Six Peace Corps volunteers from Mauritania were on vacation to The Gambia, which we thought was odd. Most Gambian volunteers think Mauritania is the place to go for vacation and they think Gambia is! They were telling us that for some of their sites they had to be air-lifted there since there was no way to get there otherwise. Out of some 40+ people originally in their group only in the low twenties remained the first year.

Wrote a few letters this weekend, which I’ll mail out Monday or Tuesday and bought Austin and Trever’s birthday gifts, which I think they’ll like.

All for now,

-Mike

Swearing-In Ceremony

Afternoon!

This past week as been full of relaxing, eating food that does not resemble sand, checking out sites, and the sort.

The Kombo volunteers were put up at the Stage for the week (pronounced “Stodge”). Whenever volunteers from up-country come into town they stay at the Stage, if they want to. It costs D30/night for volunteers, but us six were put up at Peace Corps expense since our houses weren’t ready. The Stage is two stories tall with room for over 40 people to sleep. Each room has two bunk-beds and a few have three; so up to six people in a room. Downstairs is a kitchen, some rooms, living room with stereo, and med. room in case your sick. Upstairs is the rest of the bedrooms and also a TV with VCR. Movies have been donated to volunteers throughout the years and so there is over 200 movies to chose from. That got boring after a while.

Us six (Bear, Melanie, Greta, Kate, John, and I) all cooked together and split the cost for each dinner. Ended up being only D30/dinner for Mac&Cheese one night, Cheeseburger’s another, and other American foods we missed and were able to make.

The second day we were there we had to go around and “shop” for houses. The first house we saw Kate picked. It was shaped like an ‘L’ with the living room at the intersection. The bedroom and bathroom are one part of the L while the kitchen and dinning room were the other parts. You have to walk outside to get to the kitchen. She is located two blocks away from the Peace Corps office and close to the University.

The second house we saw was the first floor of a two story building. It’s located two blocks away from the Ocean. Had it’s own porch, living room, two bedrooms, kitchen, bathroom, and storage room. I was shocked that by default it became mine, as the other three people wanted the next place. About two blocks up the road was what the volunteers call the “Fishbowl”. It’s an apartment with four rooms, living room, bathroom, and kitchen. Bear, Greta, and Melanie are staying there. John is still up in the air of where to live.

By Tuesday everybody had been at their Site for a week or more and the drivers were picking everybody up again for the swearing-in ceremonies. All of us were put up in a three-star hotel (technically a resort) for the week. The hotel is called “The SeneGambia” and is right on the beach. To get an idea of how big it is it took five and a half minutes to walk from the entrance of the hotel all the way back to the ocean and chairs they had out. By American standards it’s quite cheap, only $23/night, but it is astronomically expensive for Gambians. We saw other tourists, even though it’s not tourist season, and even Olympic hopefuls were staying there. The Moroccan Football (soccer) players were in town to play the Gambian Scorpions for the spot in the Olympic. Some of us took a taxi and watched the game, 3-1 Gambian wins.

The rooms in the hotel had not only a fan, which is a prized possession, but air conditioning! My roommate and I had the air conditioning on so cold that the water was overflowing and coming inside our room. We just put our laundry underneath it and went to bed. The next day hung up the wet clothes and they’re dry by lunchtime. The room was a cool 17C, 62F.

The day after was full of seminars, processing site visit, talk about finance and expectations, and also swearing in ceremony. The following day we had our final language test. You have to pass in order to swear in on time. If you don’t pass you are given two weeks of one-on-one intensive language and if you pass then you swear in. Anybody who knows me knows I have a terrible time with language and was actually quite worried about the test. The test is not only testing whether you can speak the language, but equally important if you can just get the point across. One sentence I was asked to translate was “In America there are many cars. ” I knew the words for “America” and “Cars [moto]” but had no idea how to say “In” let alone “there are many. ” I thought for a while and said “bidiw bidiw bidiw bidiw bidiw. America, moto moto moto moto moto. ” The tester just laughed and said “You got the point across!” What I said, in English, was “star star star star star. America car car car car car” implying there’s as many cars in America as there are stars in the sky. I passed by one percentage point.

The next day was September 11. In the morning we had a all trainee meeting with the security person fro Peace Corps along with the security person from the American Embassy. Being the second anniversary, and also being in a 90% Muslim country, called for some security advice; most were common sense.

Three of us got a taxi to go to the Peace Corps office to check mail and e-mail. As we were walking down the street we passed the American Embassy. The flag was half-mast. We were told that last year there was a book volunteers could sign in the Embassy. We agreed to try and get inside to see if there was the same this year. Showing our Peace Corps ID we walked in a metal detector, had a bag searched, and dropped off all of our cameras. The guard then walked with us to the front door and had to enter the code in the door to let us in. Inside there were a few Americans getting documents done and a huge TV with CNN on. There was no book to sign so we watched CNN for a few minutes.

The following day was swearing-in day. Current volunteers around the country were coming up for it, along with national dignitaries. Traditionally the ceremony is held at the Ambassador’s house; but he was away on official business in France. As such, we had it had Diana’s house (The Country Director). Caterers were busy getting everything in place when we arrived. After a few speeches the trainees were called one-by-one to go up, shake hands and get your picture taken. After everybody was called we all stood and took the oath to the applause of the audience. Even though a few of us had left, we still held the record of the most time spent in-country before someone decided to go home. Most groups have someone decide to go home within the very first week and sometimes on the first day. Our group lasted nine weeks out of the ten of training. One of the people from the Embassy who gave a speech told that when he was in the Peace Corps in the early 70’s they had only 30% of their original class stay.

The ceremony was concluded by Kate J. and Jessamy giving a speech in Mandinka with English translations and finally all of us standing up and singing a song in Wollof. All this was videotaped to appear on National TV. I personally found it quite interesting that I had to come to West Africa to house shop, buy a cell phone, and appear on national TV; all for the first time.



After celebrating last night we were suppose to (according to the
“official” schedule) go shopping today for our site. We suppose to buy furniture, beds, and the sort. This is good for the people that for the week in site visit were sleeping on the floor since they had no bed. The only bad thing after today was we had no money, they hadn’t paid us. They were suppose to have paid our “settling in allowance” before site visit but the money hadn’t come from Washington DC yet. They told us last week they emergency wired transferred the money.

Today we just received word that the money still has not come and so they are going to keep us at the Hotel until at latest Wednesday and going back to sites then. They are not sending us back to site until we get paid. We were suppose to buy everything today, tomorrow head back to site and Monday start teaching (for the education). We’re now given three more days of precious air conditioning.

All for now,

-MIke

Map

We are not in the actual Banjul city itself, as that is against Peace Corps policy (reason: it's an island and only one road out, not safe for an emergency). We are located a 20 minute drive away inbetween the towns of Fajara and Kanifing.

This is the best (and so far the only) map I could find on the internet:

http://www.1uptravel.com/worldmaps/gambia4.html

http://www.lib.utexas.edu/maps/world_cities/banjul.jpg

You can see the road to Banjul in the upper right hand corner.

The main road that the U.S. Embassy is on is Kairaba Avenue. The exact address is 97 Kairaba Avenue. The Peace Corps Main Office is located a block down at 78 Kairaba Avenue. Looking at the map and the box that represents the U.S. Embassy go the lower right hand corner of it and cross that nearest street (going perpendicular to Kairaba Avenue). That is roughly where the main Peace Corps office is. We're on the same side of the road despite the even/odd difference of addresses.

The medical unit for Peace Corps is located halfway down the squiggly road on the opposite side of Kairaba Avenue from the office.

The Hostel is located roughly where the letter 'B' is in "Bakau Kunku". The University is located roughly where the letter 'K' is in the first word.

If you think of the bold streets that encompass the words "Bakau Kunku" as a square, our first five days were spent at GPI located on the lower left hand side roughly where the other street meets it.

The beach "resort" (aka, a bar with hammocks) is located along Kairaba Avenue going towards the beach but keep going straight where it turns near the end. Roughly where the third letter "A" is in "Fajara". From the Peace Corps Office this is about a 20 minute walk.

"Sere Kunda" is where the major market is everyday and can get easily lost. The main road that bisects the "R" and "N" is one boundary of the market while the other main road to the left is the other boundary. The market barely starts where they meet (near the "K" in "Kanifing") and gets busier and busier (and more crowded) as you go down deeper into it. By the time your where the "S" is in "Sere Kunda" your lost in the mayhem.

That's about the most description I can give with only one map and one street name available.

---

-MIke

The last month

Afternoon! [1:56pm]

The week after we were in Kombo last we went back to Tendaba for “The Death March”, which is a 15-mile hike through mangrove filled swamps and wild savannahs. It begun with an hour canoe ride downstream and then another half-hour down a tributary. After coming to dock on mud we were told to start running after we get out, else we’d lose a shoe; or get stuck ourselves. One unlucky volunteer had both happen to them.

The health group already done the Death March weeks before, and so this is only the education group that this e-mail refers too. Of those who went on the march we split up into two groups: fast and slow. The slow group would take time to check out the wildlife more and birdwatch while the fast group hurried through the march. Looking back on it, I shouldn’t have taken the fast group.

The march started at 9:30 in the morning. The first hour or so was mostly pure mud, you could hear the suction that your sandals were making with the mud on your upstroke as you were walking. After about two hours we stopped for lunch. They were packed sandwiches from Tendaba, along with the water bottles we brought. I thought the two one-an-half liter bottles I brought would be enough. Near the end of the march I was sharing water with other people who brought more then enough for themselves. Lesson learned.

The second half of the march was through savannahs. This went a lot quicker and were able to see wild baboons in the distance climbing the trees and barking at us (they sound like barking dogs). Along the route we also passed a warthog skeleton, all picked cleaned. (Heard the “slow” group took time to position the skeleton somewhat back into place and take pictures, we just walked passed it)

With about an hour to go we had to make a choice: cross a river that goes up to our waist, or walk more then an hour around. We were so tired at that point we just wanted to get back to camp so we chose the river. I hadn’t taken more then a half-dozen steps before I was stuck in the river mud. The more I pulled my feet up the more the suction was to push it back down. The guide and another trainee had to help me get unstuck. As one foot escaped the mud I realized my sandal wasn’t with it. And so as they’re trying to pull me in one direction I’m reaching back arm-length into mud trying to find the other half of the only pair of good sandals I had. What I pulled out resembled more of ‘The Blob’ than something you put your foot in.

After that incident I was so worn out that our guide had to tell the rest of our group how to get back while he walked with me behind them. (We had less than a mile to go). It wasn’t the 15-miles that exhausted me, it was the 15-miles in the mud and savannahs in the African heat that exhausted me. That, and getting stuck in the river.

When I finally reached camp the rest of my group gave me an applause for finishing. Filled a liter-an-half bottle of water and drunk it in one gulp. Soon after everyone was in the pool relaxing. Close to an hour and half later the ‘slow’ group arrived. Most of them didn’t bother changing, they jumped in clothes and all. (Well, after washing most of the dirt off with the outdoor shower by the pool)

What we all hated was that the very next day we had to start Model School. About two miles away from Tendaba Camp is Kwinella village where the Upper Basic School for that area is located. Peace Corps paid 140 kids to come to three-hours of school four days a week for two weeks so we can learn how to teach them. There were 20 kids in a class (usually close to 40 for a normal class) and they ranged from sixth to ninth graders. The math/science people and the ICT people had to teach while the PTT watched us and critiqued us.

The school is not one building, but multiple. There is one main building that houses the offices, assembly hall and library. The classes are in open-air buildings a half-minute walk away. Each small building contained only two class rooms. The rooms themselves were arranged according to grade level: sixth, seven circle, seven square, eight circle, eight square, etc.

The week before we had the opportunity to look at the textbooks they used and plan a few lessons. I can’t relate anything other then math, since that was the only type of book I looked at. However, for math is seemed they were on par with what we do in the states. Thinking “Great! No Problem” I was in a shock with the stark contrast of what they should know and what they actually do know. It wasn’t one or two students that were behind, but the whole class. (My homeroom was one of the seventh grade) This would have adverse consequences for them as in two more years they would have to pass the ninth grade test in order to go on to more school. At best the students were a year behind and at worst maybe two or three.

Throughout the two weeks I had two major breakthroughs: Taught eight graders how to find the LCM of two numbers using prime decomposition (they didn’t understand why we were doing it, but they could do it), and had seventh graders list all eight ways to flip three coins (my attempt to try and teach probability). While we weren’t teaching we sat in someone else’s classroom and watched. In a few cases the headmaster or an LCH would teach, that was another culture shock when they had to basically yell to get a response. Granted, we barely got responses either.

After the two weeks were over with it was graduation time. The students were told to invite their parents, but only about 10-20 parents showed up. (It was a Friday, and very busy for the parents to make it). Each homeroom did a song or dance that the PTT’s taught them. Other classrooms did murals, while one did a computer project. (The computer lab had five computers for a class of twenty at a time).

There were food and soft drinks for everyone and we waited to be picked up again. Three hours later we still didn’t have a ride and the kids were still there. They were waiting to be paid. Finally the bus came for us, with the driver having the money for the kids. There was an attempt by us for us to wait while the kids got paid, but the driver informed us that he had to get a lot of change from bidiks (local stores) in order to pay all those kids and would take hours to do. So we all went back to our villages for the night.

I must tell you about something which might have made the back papers in the states but was widespread excitement here. The planet Mars. A few nights ago, August 27 actually, marks the closest Earth and Mars as been in 60,000 years. All the trainees were dazzled by the brightness of Mars, as in the village there’s no city lights to dim the spectacle of it . The next times Mars will be that bright again is in the year 2287. A quick astronomy lesson: Astronomers measure brightness in magnitudes. When they are observing they use apparent magnitude (how it looks from earth) and when doing theoretical calculations they use absolute magnitude (how it would look if it was a specific distance away). The smaller the magnitude the brighter the object, and negative numbers are allowed. It’s a! logarithmic scale, like the Richter scale for earthquakes, except a difference of five in magnitude corresponds to a factor of 100 in brightness. A magnitude 1 star is 100 times brighter then a magnitude 6 star. A difference in only one magnitude means that object is roughly two-and-half times brighter (fifth root of hundred to be exact). Mars, on average, has an apparent magnitude of –2. On August 27 it had a magnitude of –2.9, close to two-and-half times brighter then usual!

The villagers were even amazed by it and asked questions on why the star was so bright. Some of us had a tough time explaining to them that it was not a star, but a planet. In one village they had to call it “another earth” since Fulla had no word for planet. I asked our LCH whether Wollof had a word for planet, nope. So I asked if they had a word for a star that moved in a predictable way (the word “planet” means “space wanderer”). He didn’t understand what I was asking.

One trainee did an excellent job of explaining. He was also in the Fulla village. With him holding a mirror and a member of his host family holding a flashlight he shone the light into the rest of the family. It got through a few of them that the planet had no light of it’s own, but got ‘bounced’ back from the Sun. That’s a difficult idea to grasp even in the states for some kids.

The last full day in the village the men in our village fixed the pump. This made the women volunteers quite frustrated since for the last two months they had to walk all the way across the village to get water from the other pump. After the pump was fixed the ‘medicine man’ or ‘holy man’ blessed it and people starting using it. What’s ironic is that as they were fixing that pump the other pump broke. And so now our side of the village has to walk over to the north side to get water; but the male volunteers already had enough water in the buckets for one more day. It was a good laugh.

After the pump was fixed the men went a little ways out of the village for a soccer game. It resembled “Field of Dreams” in which out of a corn field there exists, in this case, a soccer field. They had to stop the game once when the ball went into the field and they couldn’t find it for a few minutes.

The next day we all said our goodbyes, packed our things on top of the car (along with our bikes), and started the long day of being dropped off at our new sites. The Kombo people were riding for six hours dropping other people off while we were the last ones. Since we are the only ones to actually pick where we’re going to live they put us up for the next week at the Peace Corps Hostel. It’s located a half-mile away from the main Peace Corps office. Everyone just calls it “The Stage” [pronounced: stodge].

The Stage is enclosed by brick walls with huge metal doors on both ends. There is a 24/7 guard stationed at both entrances. In order for us to get in we must yell out either “konk konk” (analogous to “knock knock”) or more properly “Salamaaleekum!”.

That is primarily the end of the e-mail but I have a few miscellaneous items which don’t belong anywhere

1

The coordinate to Sare Samba (estimating from the map we got) is 13d 21’ 28” N, 15d 38’ 11’’ W.

Other coordinates of villages and towns can be found here, however there may be more then one village with the same name:

http://www.calle.com/world/gambiathe/index.html

(For example, even though multiple Sare Samba’s are listed, none were my village. The nearest village that is listed is Kiaif)

2

We were issued “Department of State for Foreign Affairs Technical Assistant Identity Card”. On it lists our name, rank, and Diplomatic Mission. Rank: Peace Corps Volunteer. Diplomatic Mission: Embassy of the United States of America.

3

The all-purpose medical self-help book we were given was “Where There is No Doctor: A Village Health Care Handbook” (David Werner)

4

Another book which I found at the Stage was “Insight Guide Gambia & Senegal” (ISBN: 0887296718). This book had a lot of pictures, including one of the log-book for Juffure with one line being:

16/4/77 Alex Haley (Kinte) (Juffure) Los Angeles, Calif Ancestral Homecoming

-Mike

[3:50pm]