12 Days of Christmas Gone Gambian

This was posted anonymously on the door to the Volunteer's Lounge, I thought you would like it:
12 Days of Christmas Gone Gambian
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12 Drummers Drumming
11 Gelli Gellis
10 Monkeys Swinging
9 Ladies Dancing
8 Babies Crying
7 Roosters Crowing
6 Women Pounding
5 Silver Rings
4 Bumsters
3 French Tourists
2 Toubabs
And a Small-Boy in a Palm Tree.

Thanksgiving / Birthdays

The Friday of the 21st I finished my last Statistics class of the evening. Other then having to grade 50 homework assignments I was quite relieved, as I would have absolutely nothing to do for 11 whole days. The homework assignment that I received back was the one in which I asked them to determine, for themselves, how their grades will be computed. Quickly glancing at their responses I knew already the outcome would be very close to 25%, 25%, 50%; exactly as planned.

By Saturday Ariane and Bethany were staying with us. Although the first night brought me to the couch; it was quickly realized the next morning that the bar that kept me up all night was no problem for Ariane, as she could fit quite easily into only half the couch. My bed was redeemed. People started slowly coming into Kombo and a new thing crept in, the "Kombo Cough". Everyone started getting sick. Not the usual sickness of village or African living of dysentery, or the like; but just an annoying running-nose-can't-stop-coughing sickness. For the first couple of days we all just sat around, and in between the coughs and sniffles maybe we'd say a few words or play a game or two.

I shall sum up the scenario of the next three days by one conversation that happened on Wednesday. In the living room were Annamarie, Ariane, Bethany, and I; all reading or doing something else individualistic. Annamarie looked up and without speaking to anyone in particular, although it may seem like it, just told a small story:

"You know, Mike, earlier today someone asked me: 'How's Mike doing living with three girls?' I told them 'He says he doing fine. But one morning he just woke up before everyone and without telling anyone just took a taxi to Banjul and spent the next three hours walking back by himself.'"

I looked up from my book, smiled agreeably and just said 'Yeap' and went back to reading.

That night we were going to celebrate Vidisha's birthday by having a potluck at the Fishbowl. At least 16 people were there, and probably more. In the group picture there is 13 people, the photographer, and two people were outside at the bitik at the time. [Unless my memory fails me, the 16 people were: Greta, Kate, Jenni, Marc, Krissy, Sarah, Alicia, Vidisha, Nicky T., Annamarie, Bear, James, Jordan, Erik, Ariane, and I] Remarkably, of those 16 roughly ten stayed there at the Fishbowl for Thanksgiving week. Before dinner a few games were played. A game of Chinese Checkers between Ariane, Bear, and I quickly finished when time-to-eat was announced by proclaiming Bear the winner automatically without contest. The food was varied, from lasagna to mashed potatoes to Easy-Cheese on crackers. Also included was Salad, Curry Potatoes, and (for the vegans) couscous with tomato paste. After everyone was full to stomach's delight desert was served of no-bake cookies and brownies.



As Bear, James, Ariane, and I stayed behind the rest went out for a night of Karaoke to celebrate.

Come Friday we had our all-volunteer meeting. The meeting was held across from the football stadium and started at ten. Throughout the two hours were discussions about the Hostel, our stipends, Vacation Days, out-of-work days, and other fun-filled categories to make you squirm in your seat from enjoyment. Two and half-hours later the main meeting broke up to start the next generation of meetings: The Group Meetings. Our group, Education, stayed in the same room and everyone else went somewhere else. We spent the next half-hour talking on issues of classes, programs in the future, and other stuff. A little after one-o'clock we adjourned for the day. Having two required meetings a year, some of the volunteers who been here a while and leave in July said at the end of the second meeting: "One more to go."

Being Friday, I went to the office to see if I could get a driver to go pick up packages. "They already went to Banjul today and do not want to go back. Come back tomorrow morning."

Saturday was a full day. In the morning there was the art auction that Greta and Annamarie helped set up mostly, and in the evening Thanksgiving Dinner at "Safari Garden". While the art auction was going on I was with Sam going to Banjul. As I opened up the post-office box and took all the letters out a voice from inside asked: "What box are you?"; "Box 582, Peace Corps"; "OK. Hold on, more letters." What followed next resembled a scene from Mary Poppins in which she pulls out a ridiculous number of items from her luggage. First comes a group of ten letters, then ten more, then a small package, then two small packages. "Still more!" the voice inside said. By the time we had pulled 'everything' out of the box we had a pile knee-high filled with letters and small packages. Sam and I turned around and saw we had a small crowd enjoying our little spectacle. I heard the voice say "Here!" and turned around again and was shocked to find the arm, fully extended, hanging outside the box holding a mail-bag to put everything in. With Addams-Family resemblance the hand retracted into the box, closing it at it went. I turned the key to lock it, pulled out the key and started laughing.

After getting the mail sorted I went back home and relaxed until Thanksgiving Dinner. That evening was the first time since coming into country that I wore a pair of shoes and not sandals. Dressed up and went to the restaurant. The entire restaurant was reserved for our dinner and they had a sign outside proclaiming it so for "American Thanksgiving". The meal cost D300 but it was all-you-can-eat. There's another problem with all-you-can-eat: when either there's not much food or more people then you anticipate the all-you-can-eat principal turns into all-we-can-serve. I'm not sure what caused it, whether the first or the second, but when the owner makes his way through the line to the food proclaiming 'Be conservative' you know the all-you-can-eat principal is out the window.

The food was good quality, though. They had all the usual Thanksgiving items, except mashed potatoes. That alone made people disappointed to some degree of the meal. I had two main courses and a plate of desserts. Around our table sat Marc, Hilary, Annamarie, Mariah, Jenni, Louis, and I. After a few hours we headed back to the house to change clothes, head to the beach, and flop down on the hammocks to relax.

Sunday was the day we agreed to celebrate Annamarie's birthday. It was, in actuality, the next day, but that's when the new ago-fo's swear in and we receive free food anyways. Around seven o'clock people started coming in. At first we thought it was going to be a small party of maybe five other people or so. This is what Annamarie thought. It was a little more than five: Marc, Alicia, Vidisha, Doug, Vicki, Greta, Jenni, Mariah, Jordan, Bear, Kate, Sarah, Ariane, Bethany, Annamariah, Jessamy, Janah, and I. All of them bringing something to eat. For the next few hours we sat around, ate more heartily than Thanksgiving, and listened to music. The one thing we did have there was plenty of mashed potatoes.

The next day was swearing-in ceremony. If the ambassador wasn't out of the country when we swore in we would have had it at his house. Instead we had it at Diana's. In order of main reasoning to going to this swearing-in party that day was 1. free (good) food; 2. check out the ambassador's house; 3. Meet the new volunteers. We all got dressed up again and walked the two blocks to his house. I never realized, until that morning, that the restaurant we always went to on the beach (Leybato's) was the next-door neighbour of the Ambassador. His front gate had security guards who checked ID's. Annamarie and Ariane forgot their ID's in the house and had to go back. Inside the gates the first thing you saw was an actual green grass yard. That's quite rare here. Next to the path leading up the house was his private tennis court. Walking up the path we were told to go to the back yard, around the house. As we turned the corner we saw his house overlooked the ocean (as expected) but between his house and the guarded wall to the ocean was his own private swimming pool. The American Flag was flying high above the wall.



Shortly afterwards the ceremony began. Although it started at ten in the morning the sun shined directly on us and we were sweating by the time the ceremony ended. The new volunteers were individually called up, shook hands and received a certificate. Next they sang a song; the same song we sang. You could here some of the older volunteers in the crowd sing it just loud enough to reach one or two people in distance.

When all the speeches were made, the ceremony completed and dignitaries allowed to go first; the food was served. All you can eat, Ambassador-style! Of the tables full of food the one thing that surprised me the most, and caught me by surprise was boneless chicken. There's one thing that having that meal reminds me of. When Forrest Gump exclaims: "The best thing about visiting the President, is the food! Now, since it was all free, and I wasn't hungry but thirsty, I must've drank me fifteen Dr. Peppers." Just replace President with Ambassador and you get the jiff of it.
The next day was back to work.

My first Trek

A few weeks ago Peace Corps announced that there would be a gardening workshop at Tendaba for a few days and all newly sworn in volunteers were welcome. The ag-fo's that were in training would be training us on gardening, plants, and the sort. To be honest most volunteers showed up just to meet everyone else and secondary to learn about plants. Like others I decided to go mainly just to meet everyone again.

The plan was for people to arrive at Tendaba on Tuesday, have all day Wednesday for the workshop, and Thursday start going back to site. Looking at my schedule I had Wednesday and Thursday free anytime I wished (told my supervisor in Banjul: "I won't be here next week"; "Ok"). It was only Tuesday that was a problem, as I had a class. The Friday before I was planning on canceling class for the day and for that reason to assign a good homework set.

Usually in college whenever a professor cancels class there's mock disappointment and just pure excitement. That was what I expected, but did not receive:

"I know you will be disappointed, but there will be no class next week Tuesday"
"WHY NOT?"
"I will be out of town."
"Who will teach?"
"There will be no teacher, you have the day off. No class"

They were honestly disappointed! In America you smother the excitement of no class out by giving a large homework assignment. This was quite the opposite, I built the excitement back up by giving them the homework! Granted, the second question was phrased as: "You have your own say in how grades will be determined in this class. Please fill in the percentages of what midterm, homework, and final exam will count for and I will average those with the rest of the class." I never received an ovation before!

(The justification in doing the grades that way was it would come out very close to what I was going to do anyway. The final had to count for at least 50% of the grade, so I told them to put that down on the sheet. The other two grades had to add up to 50%, so only one independent variable. With 50+ students it's quite likely it'll be 25% and 25% on the average, or very close; exactly the percentages I was going to use regardless - it just seems now they had an impact and were quite pleased at the illusion).

During the weekend leading up to the ICT while talking to Marc I decided to go on Trek with him instead of the gardening ICT for a few reasons. 1) don't really care for gardening. 2) trek would be fun to do, and it's exactly the same time (Tues-Thurs). 3) everybody will be coming up to Kombo in a week anyways for Thanksgiving. I decided to go on Trek then.

Tuesday morning we all met at the Fishbowl. Marc was also giving Kate and Bear a free ride to Tendaba under the condition they help with one survey on the way. No problem. In the front sat Banji, the driver, and Marc. In the back were Bear, Kate, and I. We set out at 7:30 in the morning. The first thing Marc had to do was to film Serrekunda market. Banji drove around in circles in the market while Marc filmed from the front seat. If you thought Serrekunda Market was crazy while walking, try not only driving but driving while filming!

As we were heading down the dirt road we began to realize how dusty we actually were. Our faces had a tint of red in them, Marc's pure white shirt was brown, Kate rubbed her arm to show how red can turn to white in an instant, and I had to wipe the dust away from my watch in order to tell Marc what time it was. All of our bags in the back were monotone in color, and it wasn't black. This was two hours into the trip.

We continued along our way, stopping at Bwiam, where Justin is living. At the time he was teaching a computer class and so we just walked around a bit, looked at the generator and seeing what other computer parts they had. After the class was done Justin left to teach another class but helped get six students to participate in our survey. Bear helped set-up the server, Marc talked to the head-master, and Kate and I questioned the six students. It was the same survey and questions from before. After completing the surveys we still had to wait for Marc to finish interviewing the students. 'Paint' and 'Solitaire' can only go so far for enjoyment. One thing that was on the CD he brought was the entire CIA World Factbook, and so part of the time was looking up exports of Mauritania, or International Treaties of Zimbabwe, for example, to pass time away.

Finally completing the interviews we said goodbye to Justin and headed back into the car. Bajie turned the key, nothing. Tried again, nothing. He got out, went towards an old rusted tin can on the ground, tore a piece off, opened up the hood and did some mechanical thing. He tried again and it almost worked. Finally giving up Bajie yelled at the students to push the car. Within seconds we had twenty small boys pushing the car. We didn't get very far. Knowing that the small boys had to push the car again we all got out to enjoy the site and to take a few pictures. Looking back in hindsight it never occurred to us to actually help, just to take pictures. And so there was Bear, Marc, Kate, Justin and I amidst the commotion of schoolboys trying to push the car as Bajie tried to start it. As it started, the four of us jumped in and off we went.



By 3:30 we arrived at Tendaba Camp. After greeting everyone who was there and catching up with life in the villages we sat down for our late lunch. It would take about an hour for Bajie to fix the starter problem in the car and so Marc and I just relaxed before heading out. Before we did, Kate and Bear got their bags out of the back and just whacked them to death to get most of the dust off. They were still red afterwards. We said our goodbyes and continued on our way.

Beforehand I was sitting behind the passenger seat. Since Bear and Kate had stayed at Tendaba, and no longer were sitting next to me, I decided to shift to behind the driver's seat so that I could speak to Marc in the front. During the month of Ramadan it is customary for Muslims to fast from sunrise to sunset. On some days you can see bus loads of people spitting outside the window since swallowing saliva can be interpreted as breaking fast and so they spit it out. I forgot about that fact until it literally hit me. I accepted the first hit as a reminder and said nothing. Not wanting to move over to the other side and cut most communications off I simply sat where I was and just ducked every time I saw Bajie's head turn. (Found out later he wasn't spitting because of Ramadan, but because he was sick).

About three hours later we arrived at Choya, the junction to Vidisha's site. This is located halfway upcountry where the river starts to head north. In order to get to her site we had to travel on a secondary road heading back west, towards the river. She told me earlier that she lived off the road for a ways, but I didn't think it was that far! We stopped three times to make sure we were still heading in the right direction and, yes, there was a village up ahead even though the road was getting smaller and smaller. Finally, we came to the end of the road, where Vidisha's site is - a village by the name of Sambang. It was after dark, roughly only 7:30 but dark enough. She introduced us to her host family and showed us her compound. It consisted of two rooms. The first room acted as a study room / living room / and guest bedroom all into one. The second room was her bedroom which also acted as a kitchen. Each room was roughly twelve feet to a side.

In the first room I noticed the telescope. A bit more about that detail:

About a month ago Nicky T. asked if I wanted her telescope that she wasn't using anymore.
"I'll sell it to you for $20, it's missing a screw"
"What type is it?"
"I don't know"
"What's the magnification?"
"I don't know"
"Do you look through the sides or the end?"
"I don't know"
"Ok, I'll take it"

I put $10 in the next mail run to her for a deposit and would send the rest the next month in December. The last time Vidisha was up in Kombo I was telling her about it and she commented that it was in her room. Knowing that I was in the process of buying it, she jokingly said:
"If that's the case, I'll just keep it for the whole two years then"
"That's Ok."
"Really?"
"Sure. You keep my telescope and I'll keep your packages. At the end of the two years we'll swap."
She hit me!

Back in Sambang she promised her host brothers and sisters that we would set up the telescope that night so that they could look through it. In her back yard Marc and I set it up and pointed to some bright star. The kids looked, enjoyed it and wanted more. So we aimed it at Mars. Still wanting more we finally aimed it at the Pleiades. Marc was trying to make them wonder why they could only see seven stars in the sky but 13 through the telescope. Of the half-dozen kids in the backyard no one ventured a guess or even knew what we were talking about. We left it at that.

Taking apart the telescope for the night we knew we had a long day ahead, so while in pitch darkness we headed to the library to set up two computers. With a headlamp and two candles, a laptop and a computer was set up in no time. That was all we were going to do that night and leave the teaching of the care of the computers to the next morning.

Marc slept in a tent in the backyard, and I had the guest bed. The next morning I woke up to the sound of the reason why I hate village life. From the other room Vidisha yelled out the exact thing I was thinking at the time: "I want to kill those roosters!" Marc responded sarcastically from the backyard "What roosters?"

We headed to the school, along with Vidisha's headmaster and counterpart. Her counterpart, Mr. Njie, was going with her to the Gardening ICT in which we would be dropping them off in Soma on our way. At the school Marc gave a lecture to a half-dozen teachers on how to work the computer properly. There's no electricity and so these two computers would be running off of two car batteries. They have to charge one battery every single day and each battery would only give them four hours of computer use a day. They could run the laptop with the computer at once, or the computer and a printer at once; but not all three.

While Marc was explaining all this to them, which voltage and amperage settings to consider and in which order to connect stuff to the battery; Vidisha was writing all the information down in a chart; and I was video-recording all of it. As he was getting to the part of low battery power, the battery to the digital video-camera died out. We were going to change the battery to the adapter and plug the adapter into the UPS, but the adapter didn't fit. Vidisha then brought out her digital camera. Two pictures later those batteries died out. Those accidental examples strengthened the lecture of battery life and how no power translates into no computer use.

Vidisha wanted to get more batteries for her camera and so she ran back to the village. After completing the demonstration we packed up the car; Mr. Njie, Marc, Bajie, and I got into the car to pick her up at her house and then head to Soma. She got into the car and we left at 9:30. At 9:32 we were outside the car admiring the gaping hole in the tire that decided to explode as we ran over a tree stump we didn't see. In affect we made negative distance as the school was in front of us. Changing the tire with the spare we also came upon another revelation: the spare tire was the wrong size. It didn't fit. Bajie was kicking it, and Mr. Njie, Marc, and I were pushing it trying to get it to fit. Completely incompatible.

By 10:00 we were walking to the next village while Baji rolled the flat tire along so we could get a new one that was exactly the same. Arriving in the village we had transportation ready for us: a donkey cart. With two guides for the cart the seven of us, along with the flat tire, loaded up on the donkey cart. During the two-hour ride Baji got off and decided to walk the rest. The distance between us and him not only didn't stay the same, it actually increased!





Arriving at the main road, in Choya, Baji told the two donkey-cart handlers to wait for him while we went to get a spare. A ghelli-ghelli showed up and we got inside with the flat tire thrown on the roof. The 15-person van rode along and eventually died on the side of the road. The driver got out and started working on the motor. Eventually a second ghelli-ghelli arrived and our driver paid the other driver our fare to take us. Baji got the tire off the roof of and threw it on the roof the second. Riding for about fifteen minutes the driver pulled off to the side of the road and got out. Thinking it was some mundane thing he was trying to fix we kept on talking to ourselves. Marc was the first to look out the window:

"Why is our driver chopping wood?"

We all looked out and there was our driver, machete in hand, chopping a piece of wood on the road; along with another driver. Waking Baji up to help us understand why they're chopping wood instead of driving he told they are going to tow the ghelli-ghelli behind us. Of course! With wood! It was obvious! We watched as we learned how one can tow a vehicle with a piece of wood. The machetes were used to chop notches into both sides. The two drivers wrapped and tied the rope along the notches and then to their cars. Apparently we were the only ones who knew off the bat that this wasn't going to work, but we stayed for the fun of it.



A few moments later we slowly started heading down the bumpiest-road-in-the-Gambia. A commotion erupted when the wood broke, our driver applied the brakes, and the second ghelli-ghelli just kept on coming at us by pure momentum alone. It came close to hitting us, but thanks to one (of the many) potholes in the road it stopped a foot before.

We watched as they tried again, this time taking the two pieces of wood and wrapping rope around the broken end. We now had rope wrapped along both ends and the middle. Marc and Bajie got out of the car at this moment realizing that if we stayed we'd never get anywhere. Marc and Bajie finally flagged down a ghelli-ghelli that had room for five people. It was the first ghelli-ghelli we had been on to begin with!

Transferring the flat tire from one roof to another, the driver of the towing ghelli ghelli were trying to make us stay, saying it wouldn't be too long. As we were laughing, we began climbing back into the first ghelli-ghelli. However, before we were even completely seated, the second ghelli-ghelli started its engine and left us in the dust. It got 20 feet before the wood broke a second time and they had to stop again. All this happened in front of us, and also about 20 feet away from a police stop. Our ghelli-ghelli started to go forward, we passed the lets-tow-a-van-with-a-piece-of-wood ghelli-ghelli, and as we were about to pass the police stop our driver asked for our money. Vidisha's counterpart, Mr. Njie, told the driver that the other driver should reimburse him. The van stopped in the middle of the road. The policeman approached the driver and as they were exchanging words he noticed three toubobs in the back seat. He then came over to our side and just asked one question:

"Are you Peace Corps?...or, tourists?"

"Peace Corps"

Within a few minutes an all-out argument erupted between our current driver, our old driver, the policeman, and just for the fun of helping out Mr. Njie. The old driver wouldn't give back the money to the new driver (who had given it to him originally) since we left to take another ghelli-ghelli instead of his. The old driver thought that was unfair since they would get us to our destination eventually; as soon as they found another piece of wood. Finally it was settled in our favor, Mr. Njie got back into the car and we were allowed to pass the police-stop.

Arriving in Soma we said bye to Vidisha and Mr. Njie as they were heading to Tendaba. Rolling the flat tire across the road we found a hole-in-the-wall tire place that would replace the tire, while keeping the original rim, all for only D800. We were standing a little ways away from Bajie, who was doing the negotiations himself with the D500 Marc had given to him earlier. Usually when toubobs try to negotiate we get the phrases like "Good Price" or "Gambian Price" when in reality it stands for "Let me charge you twice or three times as much, and you won't know the difference," so we let Bajie do it himself.

No deal to try and get it for D500. Bajie came up to us and asked Marc for D300 more. Marc gave him the D300 along with a couple more for other incidentals that might arrive as he headed back to the village to replace the tire. We were going ahead by foot (or other means of transportation) while Bajie replaced the tire and we would meet up later. Saying bye to Bajie we left to get something to eat before getting another ghelli-ghelli.

After getting something to eat, the river was our next obstacle. The ghelli-ghelli from Soma drove us to Yelitenda, on the bank of the River. A short hour wait and boat ride later we crossed into Bambatenda. At Bambatenda there was a mad rush to get taxis and other transport to reach Farafenni. We were one of the first ones in a taxi and were one of the last to leave. The taxi wouldn't start. Four men pushed the taxi along until it started and it putted along reaching Farafenni in a dying cough.

Up the road was Eddy's, a nice (by volunteer's standards) hotel. Marc put D200 down for the room and we went inside. The room had a fan, which didn't work, and was hotter inside then outside. After walking around Farafenni for a while I told Marc I'd chip in D200 so we could upgrade to air-conditioning. Deal. An hour, and a new room later, we were back at the hotel having dinner. Marc made the following comment

"Be wary of that bumster."
He heard and asked: "Why do you call me a bumster?"
"Because you are one."
"I am not a bumster, I am a professional tourist guide"
"You're a bumster. You should be proud of your profession. You call us toubobs and we don't get mad. Why do you get mad when we call you a bumster?"
"I am a professional tourist guide!"
"That takes tourists around and then ask for money later?"
"Yes"
"You're a bumster!"

The argument was not heated at all; it was quite hilarious as he just sat down with us and we had a discussion on the name and reasoning of his 'profession'.

The following morning we went to the car park and sat in a taxi for awhile until it got full and we headed off to Kau-ur. On the way we got stopped once by police. His first question to us, after asking for ID's and before the ID's were received, was "Peace Corps?". No problem that time. The second time being stopped was a little more involved. About a mile away from Kau-ur the driver accidentally drove through a police stop. The sign announcing the police stop was plainly visible behind a mound of dirt. Men with guns started yelling at him as he realized what he might have done. The second person that was squeezed in the passenger seat got out and stood by another mound of dirt as the driver put the taxi in reverse to meet up with the policemen. He got out of the taxi and another argument ensured. A policeman came up to us and asked for ID's, again with the same question: "Peace Corps?". [Apparently, volunteers just have a certain not-so-clean-look to them]

The driver got away with only paying a fine. He pulled forward to pick up the standing passenger who squeezed back into the passenger seat. Another fine would surely have been made if he had five customers as opposed to four. Why the policemen never saw the guy standing, who wasn't there before the taxi stopped, and why they never inferred his destination as a fifth passenger alluded me. Maybe they did and put that back in the fine, I don't know.

Getting off at Kau-ur we walked to the school. Meeting the principal Marc asked if Robert was around. Robert is the volunteer working at the school. The principal said: "Yes, he is right outside". I was expecting Robert to be walking around, or teaching; but soon learned that the principal was literally exactly right. Right outside was Robert; sleeping. He slept the night away in an outdoor hallway, using a prayer-mat as barrier between him and the floor. (Many Muslims take naps that way here also, one of the only conditions of the mat is no shoes may touch it; only soled feet)

Robert, after being awakened by the principal, explained why he was sleeping outside, in the hallway. The explanation was mostly for us and not the principal as I guess he has done this before and the principal just accepted it as one of the many crazy things toubobs do. He put the mat back in the office and showed us the computer lab. This lab had about fifteen computers, but no electricity. The person in charge of the lab said he knew 'someone' who had a generator. Marc soon realized this 'someone' was the man himself and started asking "How much would this person be willing to have for two hours worth of use for the generator?" The guy, not missing a beat, quoted a price. A little bargaining happened with the guy representing the wealth of the 'someone' and able to bargain for 'him'. A deal was struck and the guy left to get his generator.

The generator arrived about an hour later. As we were trying to get just two computers to work, Robert went out to get some students. I sat down with one and told the next one in line to sit by the computer next to us. Only one question into the test I noticed smoke coming out of the other computer. Then a lot of smoke. Making some exclamation I turned the computer off while Marc ran to turn the generator off. While this happened all the students ran out of the room in fear of an exploding computer. We sort of figured out what the problem was and turned the generator back on with the same computers that were on before.

During the testing, Bajie showed up with the car and newly fixed tire. It was exactly 24 hours later that we had the car back from when the tire exploded. After completing the tests, we got into the car and headed back home.

We followed the north bank rode down to Farafenni again and then westward towards the Ocean. Making one stop on the way we reached Essau around six that night. There was one thing Marc had to do in Essau and that was to teach some people how to set up multiple e-mail accounts in their home. As he taught them, I video recorded.

We paid the charge of bringing the car on the ferry and after an hour wait drove on. It was quite strange being in a car, on a ferry. After crossing the river and driving around Banjul, we headed up the main road to get out of the island. In the middle of the road stood a military policeman carrying a big weapon telling us we had to turn around. With that said, we turned around and had to get off the island using back roads.

I got home around nine o'clock that night, telescope in hand. After whacking my backpack to get most dust off, and taking a shower, I still had to figure out what to teach for the eight o'clock class the next morning.

My first trek was completed.