Where the streets have no name

5 weeks into training village (I found an internet cafe in Soma, look on a map if you want to know where it is):

My site mates and I have come to the realization after visiting some of the other training villages: Serra samba (a Woloff village), Fulakunda (a Fula village where they’re learning Pular), and the other Mandinka Villages, Bombako, Bumary, and Worokong, we’ve learned that Kaiaf is literally the Bronx of the Gambia. One of those places no one really wants to live in but the kids that live there, including us in a way, are damn proud of. PETA would have a field day here, and Rumpke for that matter. The children are misbehaved and there are some areas that look like something strait out of a save the children commercial. The school though is very nice and some of the people. Well other than the children who call us Toubab even though they know our name, and the adults who ridicule us on a regular basis just to get to be funny… honestly it’s pathetic.

For the first time in my life I am actually an expert on Ebonics and the irony is killing me. We taught the kids to say phrases such as, “fo shizle my nizzle” and, “Don’t hate the player, hate the game” I seriously need to video tape this, it’s freggin hilarious. It’s doubly hilarious when we’re rocking out to Jay-Z on the boombox and we get yelled at to put back on Bob Marley. My favorite part of the whole iPod introduction though had to be the 12 Muslim kids rocking out to “Adon Olam” and Matishyahu with me, little do they know lol. They about freaked when I started showing the kids some of the videos on my iPod. First off let me say that the Gambia is 95% Muslim and porn is illegal. Thus not thinking I showed them a Rihanna music video “Umbrella” which in America is on basic cable or on MTV but in the Gambia, to these 10-13 year old boys was pretty much the closest thing to hard core porn they’d ever seen and I quickly after realizing this turned it off.

As I type this portion of the post I’m in Tendeba Camp again. It’s nice to come here and see everyone after two weeks in the Bronx. I gained the weight back that I lost in the first two weeks so I’m really happy about that. I’ve added like a million things to my wish list especially now that we all know our sites now… well that’s a story.

So we all grab our gear bright and early Monday morning to catch the peace corps vehicle to Tendeba and my host father hands me a bag of baobab cookies to munch on. As soon as we get to Tendeba I splurge and buy a 25 dalasi Fanta (if you’ve done the conversion don’t laugh they pay us Gambian pay), then walk to our first technical class on Community Needs Assessments. We have our second language tests later in the day and everyone was nervously studying there Mandinka, Pulaar, and Wolof. I decided though to jump in the pool. Going back to my room I realize that my doorknob has turned into a nest for wasps to the point that there is no way I can open the door with out getting stung. Knowing this I still go to open the door, luckly I’m able to get in and get my bathing suit, but as I’m locking the door behind me to go to the pool I get stung right on the pinky. Ow. About 20 minutes after that I come late to my language review due to the incident and go over some Mandinka before the test. I’m doing really well, and was very confident and ready for the test, but with the adrenaline still pumping from the wasp sting I get nervous. I could understand everything my tester was saying to me but was really to clouded in my head to remember how to respond. I’m praying I do well in it. After testing and after dinner we were pulled away one by one to be given our big site assignments which were all surprising but good. Surprising in the fact that we all thought our group would be sent up country to the Upper River Division but in actuality got sent all over the country, and only a third of our group ended up being sent to URR (but I’ll go into that later). So here’s the juicy part, leaving the meeting nervous/excited about my site and eager to tell everyone I walk to the bar where a soccer games playing (you know me and soccer), it’s Lille vs. Paris Saint Germain. Then not paying attention I make a sharp movement to my right where some friends are sitting, only to find a hard wooden pole jumping out at me, yea it jumped out at me. The only thing I really remember after that is stumbling away from the Bar sober as a horse (can you be sober as a horse? Oh never mind.) but delirious all the same with a head ache, and putting my hand to my right eyebrow, full of blood. After I figure out what’s going on I walk away from the salty mangrove coast of the River Gambia and to the bar packed full of PCTs celebrating their sites and St. Patty’s day. I guess it looked worse than it felt because they dragged me to the nurse. I didn’t really sleep that night, thinking about the site and the throbbing pain of my forehead. In the morning I had a huge lump on my eyebrow and a nice black and blue mark.

Alright so my site, I finally have been placed with a site just for me, but sadly due to some security issues with the area I am not permitted to discuss the location of mine or my peers sites. Though if you know the Gambia, had a map, and read carefully I’m sure you could figure it out. If you would really like to know it would be ok for me to tell you in a personal letter or e-mail so ask. I’m excited for it, it’s a great site and I think I’ll be able to keep up with the blogs. Our training class got broke up into what we’ve classified as 3 separate zones of the Gambia, we have 15 people left in our group with Tim and Nikki ETing. Five were sent up country (where we thought we were all going) up to URR, 5 were put in northern region and then 5 in the southern/lower river. It turns out more than a third of our group is getting electricity (I think it’s like 6 of us)… I though am not and will be content with my dark hut and pit latrine. We have thus labeled them all “Pansy Peace Corps” and are lumped in with though lame Caribbean PCVs who live in island resorts with internet, AC, and running water. Things I can tell you about my site, that I’ve learned from my site description (my next post will be after site visit prior to swearing in), are that I will have a hut very similar to that from training village, a tin roof, two bedroom mud brick house. I have a pump supposedly 20 meters from my house where I can get water but I’m not sure if they mean 20 from my hut or my village. My site is pretty out there and at the same time the nearest volunteer is only 10 kilometers (Katie actually who I’ve mentioned as one of the two girls who lived in Kaiaf training village with me). My site has a medical center where I think the PC wants me to do the majority of my work, it’s going to be tough to see on a daily basis but I’m sure I’ll find a niche. Also there is a school which will have plenty of opportunities for me to do some type of health education and maybe even athletic coaching. As a secondary project they’ve even placed me “close” to 3 different ecotourism centers which I really hope to do some work in. There are some other really cool facts about my site but I can’t disclose them on the blog so send me a letter I don’t have any of your addresses.

So I received my results from my language exam. I got a Novice High level in Mandinka… we need Intermediate mid to swear in as peace corps volunteers. Though I’m positive they would never send us home, but we would definitely miss swearing in and have to spend two weeks in Kombo doing language, it would amazingly suck. On another note though at Tendaba we took part in a long lasting Peace Corps The Gambia tradition of the “Marathon/Death March”. It’s a 25k walk through Kiang West National Park, full of mangroves, valleys, monkeys, and bush pigs. Though to me it was more of a leisurely walk than a “Death March” it was extremely beautiful. I can’t help but think what the Gambia was like before desertification and human expansion spoiled the wildlife. The highlight of the death march had to be the part where we had to swim through a rice patty. Literally so deep we could not touch the bottom (at times) holding our packs over our heads. The water was actually scaringly warm and though I know the river this far up is still salty and thus doesn’t carry any diseases, the rice patties on the other hand may be fresh water… in which case Schistosomiasis may be present but I doubt any of us would get it.

Well I guess I’ll end this post here, I just found out there’s internet in Soma so I hope to post these entries on the 25^th of March when I’m there to teach a life skills class to boy scouts. On an interesting note I’ve been asked to sing the national at swearing in… which is being broadcast live on Gambia TV (wow)! As well as say a Hebrew prayer, as there will be an Islamic prayer, and some peace corps people are doing a Christian prayer so they volunteered me to do something Jewish lol. Not that I have a problem with that at all, other than the fact that I think I will have just put a giant target on my back for the two years I stay in the Gambia that I’m a Jew. Please e-mail me if you have any prayer suggestions, I’m thinking about just doing the Sahekianu. Once again please continue to write, as I’ve only received one letter so far (not that I have time to respond) but still it’s fregging depressing… thanks bree, your letter’s in the mail. Oh by the way weird question: does anyone know the legalities of taking a monkey skull out of the country? I found a wicked sweet one.