12/23/04
THURSDAY
DECEMBER 23, 2004
The e-mailed completed I looked at the clock at the bottom of the computer. 4:30 in the morning. Time to head home. I packed the only clothes I would carry that would last me three weeks: two pants, three shirts, and five pairs of underwear. At anytime I could wash any of them in the bucket, like in training. The rest of the contents of my bag consisted of IDs, money, calculator, small bathroom supplies, and a bar of local laundry soap. That, and the book I was going to read, ALIVE.
By 5:30 the local security guard, hired by the landlord, walked with me to the highway to Banjul. After finding a local ghelli-ghelli I reached the ferry terminal on time for the first ferry, seven o’clock in the morning. The ferry was full to capacity of Gambians either going to work or traveling to their home village for Christmas (10% of the country is Christian). At the time I’m so tired that I just climbed in the back of a pick-up, without asking the owner, and went to sleep on top of the spare tire in the bed. Between the last three nights, two were of zero hours of sleep and only separated by one good night of rest. Needles to say I was exhausted. I knew it was time to leave the ferry when Gambians were shaking my shoulder telling me I had to get up since the car wanted to move.
While I walked down the ramp I heard somehow yell out my name. I turned and look and it was Chris and Meghan, two recently sworn-in volunteers, who were sitting in private car waiting to cross the ferry going to the other way. Chris had biked for two days from Georgetown, where I was heading, to get to Kerewan where Meghan lived. From there they had connections to not only get a private vehicle but to have that vehicle be one of the first on the ferry. We chatted for only a few seconds since the entire ferry was passing me and potentially getting my spot in the cars going upcountry.
I somehow managed to get front seat to a vehicle going to Kuntair. I tried to get a few hours of sleep while in transit but I have the driver to my left and someone else to my right and I kept on nodding off either to the right or left to their annoyance. Once I nodded off to the left, bumped the driver, woke up suddenly, moved my leg and accidentally shifted the vehicle out of gear. The car stalled while I apologized to the driver. That only kept me alert enough for ten minutes before I succumbed to the exhaustion again and went back to sleep.
At Kuntair we had a few hours to wait for a vehicle to come for Georgetown. I had just enough sleep to be able to read with comprehension and so I brought out the one book I brought for the trip: ALIVE, about the Rugby team that crashed in the Andes mountain and had to survive for ten weeks. While reading I saw a few shadows flying past me on the ground. I looked up and saw a small swarm of locusts! That was the first time I had seen a swarm of locusts, and it wouldn’t be my last.
Finally, a car showed up that was going, not to Georgetown, but to Panchang which was on the way. Basically there is only one road you just try to keep on moving in one direction, eventually you’ll get to where you’re going. I had been waiting in the vehicle for an hour and was rewarded with the front seat, along with another person. At Panchang the driver told me to get in another vehicle which was headed to Georgetown. I didn’t argue and didn’t know why I was switching cars, as I was the only one told to do so, but using the motto of ‘it’s going in the same direction’ I got in. The car pulled up at Georgetown and arrived at the Kharafi place at 3:30 in the afternoon.
Kharafi is a company owned by Nasser Al-Kharafi and Family from Saudi Arabia. They’re on the Forbe’s top 10 list of wealthiest families, with an accumulated net worth exceeding five billion dollars. The project the company is working on in The Gambia is a major 115 km, $25 million, complete reconstruction of the road between Farafenni and Lamine Koto. Most of the management crew come from South Africa and Peace Corps volunteers have been friends with them since Lisa, one of the girls I went to Guinea with, introduced herself to them and it grew from there.
For the rest of the day I helped Cheeta, Jessica, Mary, Sam and Scott put up Christmas Decorations. We had no real ones, but we made due. Jessica started pulling individual leaves off small tree branches she took from outside, and using one side of the tape stuck them together to make different layers of a Christmas tree. Next we used a knife to punch holes in bottle caps of Coke and Sprite to make hanging flyers, while Cheeta used old Newsweeks to make cutout snowflakes. The Newsweeks we get for free from the Government we’ve discovered have many additional uses. Most volunteers would rather receive The Economist, or some other “real” magazine, but you really can’t complain about receiving free magazines. Some volunteers have used their Newsweeks for paper airplane demonstrations for class, wrapping your sandwich or left over food in, to cut snowflakes out of, or, in desperate times as a substitute for toilet paper.
When most of the decorations were done I played referee to a game of darts between Sam and Mary. The game was just the first to hit every number. However, due to lack of practice and/or skill we also made a category for ‘door’ and ‘floor’ as well. Sam led in the ‘door’ category while Mary led in the ‘floor’, with hers just bouncing off the dart board and landing on the floor. It was at this game that I noticed no observerable pattern for the numbers around the dartboard as they seemed to go around like random.
Since the Kharafi compound had digital TV we took advantage of it and watched a few movies. Other then when I’m in Dakar, at Mary’s place, this is the only chance I have to watch true television. Movies are common throughout Peace Corps, but the option of changing channels or watching American shows we lack. After a while you learn not to miss it, but still crave it when you can watch it.
I was the first to go to bed.
DECEMBER 23, 2004
The e-mailed completed I looked at the clock at the bottom of the computer. 4:30 in the morning. Time to head home. I packed the only clothes I would carry that would last me three weeks: two pants, three shirts, and five pairs of underwear. At anytime I could wash any of them in the bucket, like in training. The rest of the contents of my bag consisted of IDs, money, calculator, small bathroom supplies, and a bar of local laundry soap. That, and the book I was going to read, ALIVE.
By 5:30 the local security guard, hired by the landlord, walked with me to the highway to Banjul. After finding a local ghelli-ghelli I reached the ferry terminal on time for the first ferry, seven o’clock in the morning. The ferry was full to capacity of Gambians either going to work or traveling to their home village for Christmas (10% of the country is Christian). At the time I’m so tired that I just climbed in the back of a pick-up, without asking the owner, and went to sleep on top of the spare tire in the bed. Between the last three nights, two were of zero hours of sleep and only separated by one good night of rest. Needles to say I was exhausted. I knew it was time to leave the ferry when Gambians were shaking my shoulder telling me I had to get up since the car wanted to move.
While I walked down the ramp I heard somehow yell out my name. I turned and look and it was Chris and Meghan, two recently sworn-in volunteers, who were sitting in private car waiting to cross the ferry going to the other way. Chris had biked for two days from Georgetown, where I was heading, to get to Kerewan where Meghan lived. From there they had connections to not only get a private vehicle but to have that vehicle be one of the first on the ferry. We chatted for only a few seconds since the entire ferry was passing me and potentially getting my spot in the cars going upcountry.
I somehow managed to get front seat to a vehicle going to Kuntair. I tried to get a few hours of sleep while in transit but I have the driver to my left and someone else to my right and I kept on nodding off either to the right or left to their annoyance. Once I nodded off to the left, bumped the driver, woke up suddenly, moved my leg and accidentally shifted the vehicle out of gear. The car stalled while I apologized to the driver. That only kept me alert enough for ten minutes before I succumbed to the exhaustion again and went back to sleep.
At Kuntair we had a few hours to wait for a vehicle to come for Georgetown. I had just enough sleep to be able to read with comprehension and so I brought out the one book I brought for the trip: ALIVE, about the Rugby team that crashed in the Andes mountain and had to survive for ten weeks. While reading I saw a few shadows flying past me on the ground. I looked up and saw a small swarm of locusts! That was the first time I had seen a swarm of locusts, and it wouldn’t be my last.
Finally, a car showed up that was going, not to Georgetown, but to Panchang which was on the way. Basically there is only one road you just try to keep on moving in one direction, eventually you’ll get to where you’re going. I had been waiting in the vehicle for an hour and was rewarded with the front seat, along with another person. At Panchang the driver told me to get in another vehicle which was headed to Georgetown. I didn’t argue and didn’t know why I was switching cars, as I was the only one told to do so, but using the motto of ‘it’s going in the same direction’ I got in. The car pulled up at Georgetown and arrived at the Kharafi place at 3:30 in the afternoon.
Kharafi is a company owned by Nasser Al-Kharafi and Family from Saudi Arabia. They’re on the Forbe’s top 10 list of wealthiest families, with an accumulated net worth exceeding five billion dollars. The project the company is working on in The Gambia is a major 115 km, $25 million, complete reconstruction of the road between Farafenni and Lamine Koto. Most of the management crew come from South Africa and Peace Corps volunteers have been friends with them since Lisa, one of the girls I went to Guinea with, introduced herself to them and it grew from there.
For the rest of the day I helped Cheeta, Jessica, Mary, Sam and Scott put up Christmas Decorations. We had no real ones, but we made due. Jessica started pulling individual leaves off small tree branches she took from outside, and using one side of the tape stuck them together to make different layers of a Christmas tree. Next we used a knife to punch holes in bottle caps of Coke and Sprite to make hanging flyers, while Cheeta used old Newsweeks to make cutout snowflakes. The Newsweeks we get for free from the Government we’ve discovered have many additional uses. Most volunteers would rather receive The Economist, or some other “real” magazine, but you really can’t complain about receiving free magazines. Some volunteers have used their Newsweeks for paper airplane demonstrations for class, wrapping your sandwich or left over food in, to cut snowflakes out of, or, in desperate times as a substitute for toilet paper.
When most of the decorations were done I played referee to a game of darts between Sam and Mary. The game was just the first to hit every number. However, due to lack of practice and/or skill we also made a category for ‘door’ and ‘floor’ as well. Sam led in the ‘door’ category while Mary led in the ‘floor’, with hers just bouncing off the dart board and landing on the floor. It was at this game that I noticed no observerable pattern for the numbers around the dartboard as they seemed to go around like random.
Since the Kharafi compound had digital TV we took advantage of it and watched a few movies. Other then when I’m in Dakar, at Mary’s place, this is the only chance I have to watch true television. Movies are common throughout Peace Corps, but the option of changing channels or watching American shows we lack. After a while you learn not to miss it, but still crave it when you can watch it.
I was the first to go to bed.
posted by Mike | 5:23 PM
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