12/22/04
WEDNESDAY
DECEMBER 22, 2004
My last mail-pick up before leaving for vacation was when the Christmas packages started pouring in. There was only one more pickup before Christmas and so we were asking the postal employees to check their back room and we would pay for any and all packages they had back there. A few managed to arrive, but most hadn’t been logged in the back room yet and so they wanted us to come back on Friday.
Later that day the mailrun crew for December came back into town consisting of Kelly and Allison. For the past week they had been traveling around the country delivering the mail to every volunteer. They named themselves the “Dengue Club” since they were the only two volunteers in our group to get Dengue Fever while being in country. Dengue fever also is called “breakbone fever” because of the severity of the pain in the joints. The two suffered all of the features of Dengue fever when they had it: high fever, rash, severe headaches, pain behind the eyes, joint pains, nausea, vomiting, and loss of appetite. Both had lost weight and the Medical Unit was actually buying high-caloric ice cream for them to eat. Kelly couldn’t even move his eyes and had to move his head to look in a different direction.
For mailrun it was debated whether it should be the usual five days or add another day for six. Kelly and Allison chose to do it in six days, but realized that extra day was unnecessary and so recommended Administration to continue with the five-day schedule.
The past few days Administration wanted me to go through old Hostel records and find out which volunteers hadn’t paid in the past year. However, both the old book and money lockbox was missing. It wasn’t until that night did they find them, the night before I was headed out for vacation. They would have to wait until after I come back.
Sam, the resident chef volunteer, was going out with Fred, a Kharafi employee to pick up food for Christmas dinner at Georgetown. I asked Sam if he needed any help, but none was needed. I learned later that Sam, being a chef, refuses all help of buying or preparing meals unless he specifically points to you and says “you chop, you buy this” etc. All comply with his wishes. They were heading out to Georgetown but I promised Heidi I would be here for her birthday, so I passed up on a free ride to stay up all night in celebration and take public transportation the following morning.
That night we celebrated Heidi’s birthday. About twenty of us went out to Churchill’s for a night of Karaoke. Usually we are the only ones there but since it’s tourist season we had to wait for seats to come available. The highlight of the singing was when all the girls did Madonna’s “Like a Virgin” while the last song that we sang before our group left was for the guys. All the guys, myself included, went up and sang Beach Boys “California Girls.”
The party at karaoke ended when the birthday girl decided to go to Aquarius for dancing. About half of us went while the other half went home. Seeing my hours of sleep diminish quickly I figured I had nothing to loose and I stayed up and went dancing with them. By the time we got back to the Hostel it was 3:30 in the morning. I was to leave in three hours. No sleep for me, and even worse, my bag was missing!
Inside my backpack had my passport, Resident ID, and money for the trip. The only thing I had to pack was my clothes. This being missing was quite strange. A brick and metal gates enclose the Hostel, with 24/7 security. All the volunteers know my bag, by the PC luggage tag which no one else has in country, and I trust them all implicitly. There’s been cases were a single one dalasi coin would be sitting on the table for weeks because no one knows who it belongs to. And now my bag is missing and I leave in three hours!
I knocked on the Hostel Manager’s door, a local Gambian that got hired by Peace Corps after intense interviews and screening. Modou is his name, roughly our age, and he is now responsible for making sure everyone is checked into the hostel like a hotel and supplies bed sheets and makes bills out. No one answered. I asked all those with me if anyone saw my backpack. They remembered seeing it before we left earlier in the night but it wasn’t there since.
Having no choice but to check every room I started turning on all the lights and in the process woke everyone up. If it were just an ordinary night I would have just come back in the morning. The first room had eght people sleeping in there, and no bag. Second room, six people, no bag. Third room, empty; except for Modou who was sleeping there even though he had his own room.
“Modou, have you seen my bag”
“Bag? No”
Turned the light off and continued searching. Upstairs (waking everyone up), empty rooms, kitchen, nothing. There was only one room left in the house, which was locked, and that was Modou’s own personal room. I went back to the empty room where Modou was sleeping
“Modou, are you sure you haven’t seen my bag?”
“Bag, no”
“I checked every room, except yours. Did you happen to find anything today?”
“Just a back-pack”
“That’s mine! My bag is my back-pack. It’s the same thing. Bag, back-pack. Back-pack, bag. Same item!”
He got up, went to his own room, unlocked it and I got my backpack back. I took my backpack, said goodbye to whomever was still awake, and left to go to the office to do one last emailing before setting off.
DECEMBER 22, 2004
My last mail-pick up before leaving for vacation was when the Christmas packages started pouring in. There was only one more pickup before Christmas and so we were asking the postal employees to check their back room and we would pay for any and all packages they had back there. A few managed to arrive, but most hadn’t been logged in the back room yet and so they wanted us to come back on Friday.
Later that day the mailrun crew for December came back into town consisting of Kelly and Allison. For the past week they had been traveling around the country delivering the mail to every volunteer. They named themselves the “Dengue Club” since they were the only two volunteers in our group to get Dengue Fever while being in country. Dengue fever also is called “breakbone fever” because of the severity of the pain in the joints. The two suffered all of the features of Dengue fever when they had it: high fever, rash, severe headaches, pain behind the eyes, joint pains, nausea, vomiting, and loss of appetite. Both had lost weight and the Medical Unit was actually buying high-caloric ice cream for them to eat. Kelly couldn’t even move his eyes and had to move his head to look in a different direction.
For mailrun it was debated whether it should be the usual five days or add another day for six. Kelly and Allison chose to do it in six days, but realized that extra day was unnecessary and so recommended Administration to continue with the five-day schedule.
The past few days Administration wanted me to go through old Hostel records and find out which volunteers hadn’t paid in the past year. However, both the old book and money lockbox was missing. It wasn’t until that night did they find them, the night before I was headed out for vacation. They would have to wait until after I come back.
Sam, the resident chef volunteer, was going out with Fred, a Kharafi employee to pick up food for Christmas dinner at Georgetown. I asked Sam if he needed any help, but none was needed. I learned later that Sam, being a chef, refuses all help of buying or preparing meals unless he specifically points to you and says “you chop, you buy this” etc. All comply with his wishes. They were heading out to Georgetown but I promised Heidi I would be here for her birthday, so I passed up on a free ride to stay up all night in celebration and take public transportation the following morning.
That night we celebrated Heidi’s birthday. About twenty of us went out to Churchill’s for a night of Karaoke. Usually we are the only ones there but since it’s tourist season we had to wait for seats to come available. The highlight of the singing was when all the girls did Madonna’s “Like a Virgin” while the last song that we sang before our group left was for the guys. All the guys, myself included, went up and sang Beach Boys “California Girls.”
The party at karaoke ended when the birthday girl decided to go to Aquarius for dancing. About half of us went while the other half went home. Seeing my hours of sleep diminish quickly I figured I had nothing to loose and I stayed up and went dancing with them. By the time we got back to the Hostel it was 3:30 in the morning. I was to leave in three hours. No sleep for me, and even worse, my bag was missing!
Inside my backpack had my passport, Resident ID, and money for the trip. The only thing I had to pack was my clothes. This being missing was quite strange. A brick and metal gates enclose the Hostel, with 24/7 security. All the volunteers know my bag, by the PC luggage tag which no one else has in country, and I trust them all implicitly. There’s been cases were a single one dalasi coin would be sitting on the table for weeks because no one knows who it belongs to. And now my bag is missing and I leave in three hours!
I knocked on the Hostel Manager’s door, a local Gambian that got hired by Peace Corps after intense interviews and screening. Modou is his name, roughly our age, and he is now responsible for making sure everyone is checked into the hostel like a hotel and supplies bed sheets and makes bills out. No one answered. I asked all those with me if anyone saw my backpack. They remembered seeing it before we left earlier in the night but it wasn’t there since.
Having no choice but to check every room I started turning on all the lights and in the process woke everyone up. If it were just an ordinary night I would have just come back in the morning. The first room had eght people sleeping in there, and no bag. Second room, six people, no bag. Third room, empty; except for Modou who was sleeping there even though he had his own room.
“Modou, have you seen my bag”
“Bag? No”
Turned the light off and continued searching. Upstairs (waking everyone up), empty rooms, kitchen, nothing. There was only one room left in the house, which was locked, and that was Modou’s own personal room. I went back to the empty room where Modou was sleeping
“Modou, are you sure you haven’t seen my bag?”
“Bag, no”
“I checked every room, except yours. Did you happen to find anything today?”
“Just a back-pack”
“That’s mine! My bag is my back-pack. It’s the same thing. Bag, back-pack. Back-pack, bag. Same item!”
He got up, went to his own room, unlocked it and I got my backpack back. I took my backpack, said goodbye to whomever was still awake, and left to go to the office to do one last emailing before setting off.
posted by Mike | 5:23 PM
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