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
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
posted by Mike | 6:42 AM
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