A Recent Encounter* with the British-kind
(*Not THAT kind of encounter---although, if it were, it’d be more interesting, wouldn’t it? Sorry to disappoint…)
---
This is a recent contribution I wrote for my sector's December newsletter...it is based on a real chance meeting I had with a British tourist in the middle of nowhere. I'm (obviously) the PCV in the story. I disguised my identity for the sheer purpose that I didn't want to have fellow PCVs ridicule my horrible storytelling abilities.
NOTE: This is best read if you imagine the sound of my sarcastic voice during the bracketed sections. If it's been too long for you to remember what my voice, albeit sarcastic tone, sounds like...then I suggest you either call me or better yet, come visit. Thought I'd slip a plea in there. If one wants something, she must ask for it, right?
Anyway...read on...before my nonsensical ramblings distract you again.
…Whilst riding home on my bicycle, an hour before dusk (i.e. the time of day when the sun falls down), in a large, dusty pothole (literally), somewhere in Fulladu West. There is a fellow cyclist in the distance, and my initial thought is that it’s another Peace Corps Volunteer, but I soon realize the rider was not wearing a helmet---a clear indication that it was NOT (Reminder: Wear your helmet!!!) I move out of the sun glare and realize the cyclist was a man, who stopped instantly and seemed even more enthusiastic than I usually am when stumbling upon a fellow ‘toubab’ who’s not throwing minties from a tourist bus. Thus goes our conversation (some of which may have been altered for maintaining interest of the audience…)
British cyclist tourist man: Hello!!!! Where you headed?
PCV : Home. [Secretly thinks: Anywhere you’re going, baby.]British cyclist tourist man: Oh, so you live here. Just thought I’d warn you that the road is really bad that way…
PCV: Yes, I know. What are you doing here?
British cyclist tourist man: I’m a tourist, just biking my way through Senegal and The Gambia, but I’ve gotten lost.”
PCV: Where are you supposed to be going now?
British cyclist tourist man: Well, I missed the turn for Janjanbureh. I’m staying there for the night.
PCV: You missed the turn? [Thinks to self: Dude, there’s only two roads here…both go east and west, one in the north, one in the south. How did you miss the ONLY junction? Oh wait, you’re a tourist.]
British cyclist tourist man: Yeah, can you tell me where I should go?
PCV: Go about 5km, look for the sometimes-there, sometimes-not-there-police checkpoint on your left and you’ll see the junction. Turn left and follow the road until you see the river. You can’t miss it (twice). To cross on the ferry with your bike is two delasis.
British cyclist tourist man: So why are you here? What are you doing?
PCV: I’m a Peace Corps Volunteer, working with Health and Community Development. You’re biking alone? [Want company…?]
British cyclist tourist man: Yeah, I did this trip in 2004, but wanted to do it again. I bought this bike (powder blue and orange, bike with mud fenders in Kombo---THINK: Trek bike meets a beach cruiser). I’m looking to do something and help here. I have an electrical engineering background, but I suppose that may not be too helpful here.
PCV: Well, it could be…you just have to be creative. I think the key is building relationships with people first and then assessing their needs. In fact, I just came from a meeting at the Regional Health Team’s office [fire the ambulance driver who stole the ambulance for two weeks already!] and am now heading to the school I’m working with. There’s a program there this evening because a Spanish NGO came today to “drop-off things” for the children---computers, laptops, solar panels, games, notebooks, pens. All those things are great, but the Spanish folks are leaving before all the solar and computers can be installed.
British cyclist tourist man: Hmm…I see. [Appears to be interested in aforementioned comments, but clearly isn’t, thanks to his abrupt change in focus to my RAD wheels] That’s a nice American bike you’ve got there. You come with that?
PCV: PC provides it…THIS [taps affectionately] is my baby. I love it---great stress reliever. Instead of punching children in the face when they ask me to ‘borrow them my bike’, I just say, ‘NO!’ and ride off as fast as I can [the kids can run really, really fast and sometimes I fear I can’t escape them! Or I ride as if I’m escaping hyenas who want to attack---it could happen.]
British cyclist tourist man: Well, I guess I should get going. Thanks for your help and good luck to you.
PCV: Thanks. You too! And good luck with the rest of your journey.
Both of us ride off into the sunset...wondering if we’ll ever meet again [cue romantic, yet dramatic movie music]…Well, actually I was riding into the sunset and he was going east and clearly riding away from it. But anyway, it was a classic Peace Corps moment---a chance encounter on the road less traveled...
Three days later (I kid you not…the below REALLY did happen)…
Riding in the back seat of a white Mercedes-Benz, with four other people, heading (rather quickly) towards the Barra Ferry Crossing.... Before we go to the vehicle weigh station, I see the outlines of a red cyclist’s shirt in the distance…and much to my amazement…it’s British cyclist tourist man! He’s pedaling his last few kilometers of his journey and I’ll be there [*crosses fingers*] to greet him…
My vehicle enters the loading dock for boarding the ferry, and I’m secretly excited to meet British cyclist tourist man again. I sit for a few minutes and desperately look for the children selling ices; today they are nowhere to be found. I look up after my brief disappointment of not having the opportunity to suck cold, juicy goodness from a plastic bag, and I see that British cyclist tourist man has crossed the imaginary finish line of his journey (no, he didn’t ride off the dock and into the water). I hurriedly get out of the vehicle to go and congratulate him on a job well done.
PCV: Hello…do you remember me? [He nods yes.] Congratulations…you made it!
British cyclist tourist man: Yes! I remember you. I’m finished and it feels great! I’m going to Kartong now to relax and eat. I’ve lost a significant amount of weight.
We continue to chit-chat, until Kanilai (the name of the ferry) docks and I rush back to the vehicle so that my driver doesn’t leave me in Barra. Before we load onto the boat, British cyclist tourist man gives me his email and his blog address and says “If you’re ever in London.” I hurriedly give him mine…The passengers of the vehicle ask “Is he your husband?” I laugh and say a defiant, “No!” [Images of our future together…our proposal, our wedding, our children flash before me and they’re gone, like the sunset…] We cross and as my vehicle leaves the Kanilai and enters Banjul, we wave… a chance encounter, twice lived…
Life here as a Volunteer, as you all know, is full of unexpected, unpredictable happenings and events. My encounter (times two) with British tourist cyclist man (whose real name is Jon) made me realize a few things:
1. Not all tourists like to throw minties out of tour bus windows. In fact, some like to brave it alone and when they get lost, they venture through villages to find their way and meet the people, Gambian and Volunteers.
2. Riding with a helmet still makes PCVs the coolest [and hoTTest] cyclists in all of The Gambia.
3. We should all ride our bikes more---we might meet some interesting people along the way.
4. Cycling is a great stress reliever.
5. Encounters like this reinforce the fact that The Gambia REALLY is THAT small.
---
This is a recent contribution I wrote for my sector's December newsletter...it is based on a real chance meeting I had with a British tourist in the middle of nowhere. I'm (obviously) the PCV in the story. I disguised my identity for the sheer purpose that I didn't want to have fellow PCVs ridicule my horrible storytelling abilities.
NOTE: This is best read if you imagine the sound of my sarcastic voice during the bracketed sections. If it's been too long for you to remember what my voice, albeit sarcastic tone, sounds like...then I suggest you either call me or better yet, come visit. Thought I'd slip a plea in there. If one wants something, she must ask for it, right?
Anyway...read on...before my nonsensical ramblings distract you again.
…Whilst riding home on my bicycle, an hour before dusk (i.e. the time of day when the sun falls down), in a large, dusty pothole (literally), somewhere in Fulladu West. There is a fellow cyclist in the distance, and my initial thought is that it’s another Peace Corps Volunteer, but I soon realize the rider was not wearing a helmet---a clear indication that it was NOT (Reminder: Wear your helmet!!!) I move out of the sun glare and realize the cyclist was a man, who stopped instantly and seemed even more enthusiastic than I usually am when stumbling upon a fellow ‘toubab’ who’s not throwing minties from a tourist bus. Thus goes our conversation (some of which may have been altered for maintaining interest of the audience…)
British cyclist tourist man: Hello!!!! Where you headed?
PCV : Home. [Secretly thinks: Anywhere you’re going, baby.]British cyclist tourist man: Oh, so you live here. Just thought I’d warn you that the road is really bad that way…
PCV: Yes, I know. What are you doing here?
British cyclist tourist man: I’m a
PCV: Where are you supposed to be going now?
British cyclist tourist man: Well, I missed the turn for Janjanbureh. I’m staying there for the night.
PCV: You missed the turn? [Thinks to self: Dude, there’s only two roads here…both go east and west, one in the north, one in the south. How did you miss the ONLY junction? Oh wait, you’re a tourist.]
British cyclist tourist man: Yeah, can you tell me where I should go?
PCV: Go about 5km, look for the sometimes-there, sometimes-not-there-police checkpoint on your left and you’ll see the junction. Turn left and follow the road until you see the river. You can’t miss it (twice). To cross on the ferry with your bike is two delasis.
British cyclist tourist man: So why are you here? What are you doing?
PCV: I’m a Peace Corps Volunteer, working with Health and Community Development. You’re biking alone? [Want company…?]
British cyclist tourist man: Yeah, I did this trip in 2004, but wanted to do it again. I bought this bike (powder blue and orange, bike with mud fenders in Kombo---THINK: Trek bike meets a beach cruiser). I’m looking to do something and help here. I have an electrical engineering background, but I suppose that may not be too helpful here.
PCV: Well, it could be…you just have to be creative. I think the key is building relationships with people first and then assessing their needs. In fact, I just came from a meeting at the Regional Health Team’s office [fire the ambulance driver who stole the ambulance for two weeks already!] and am now heading to the school I’m working with. There’s a program there this evening because a Spanish NGO came today to “drop-off things” for the children---computers, laptops, solar panels, games, notebooks, pens. All those things are great, but the Spanish folks are leaving before all the solar and computers can be installed.
British cyclist tourist man: Hmm…I see. [Appears to be interested in aforementioned comments, but clearly isn’t, thanks to his abrupt change in focus to my RAD wheels] That’s a nice American bike you’ve got there. You come with that?
PCV: PC provides it…THIS [taps affectionately] is my baby. I love it---great stress reliever. Instead of punching children in the face when they ask me to ‘borrow them my bike’, I just say, ‘NO!’ and ride off as fast as I can [the kids can run really, really fast and sometimes I fear I can’t escape them! Or I ride as if I’m escaping hyenas who want to attack---it could happen.]
British cyclist tourist man: Well, I guess I should get going. Thanks for your help and good luck to you.
PCV: Thanks. You too! And good luck with the rest of your journey.
Both of us ride off into the sunset...wondering if we’ll ever meet again [cue romantic, yet dramatic movie music]…Well, actually I was riding into the sunset and he was going east and clearly riding away from it. But anyway, it was a classic Peace Corps moment---a chance encounter on the road less traveled...
Three days later (I kid you not…the below REALLY did happen)…
Riding in the back seat of a white Mercedes-Benz, with four other people, heading (rather quickly) towards the Barra Ferry Crossing.... Before we go to the vehicle weigh station, I see the outlines of a red cyclist’s shirt in the distance…and much to my amazement…it’s British cyclist tourist man! He’s pedaling his last few kilometers of his journey and I’ll be there [*crosses fingers*] to greet him…
My vehicle enters the loading dock for boarding the ferry, and I’m secretly excited to meet British cyclist tourist man again. I sit for a few minutes and desperately look for the children selling ices; today they are nowhere to be found. I look up after my brief disappointment of not having the opportunity to suck cold, juicy goodness from a plastic bag, and I see that British cyclist tourist man has crossed the imaginary finish line of his journey (no, he didn’t ride off the dock and into the water). I hurriedly get out of the vehicle to go and congratulate him on a job well done.
PCV: Hello…do you remember me? [He nods yes.] Congratulations…you made it!
British cyclist tourist man: Yes! I remember you. I’m finished and it feels great! I’m going to Kartong now to relax and eat. I’ve lost a significant amount of weight.
We continue to chit-chat, until Kanilai (the name of the ferry) docks and I rush back to the vehicle so that my driver doesn’t leave me in Barra. Before we load onto the boat, British cyclist tourist man gives me his email and his blog address and says “If you’re ever in London.” I hurriedly give him mine…The passengers of the vehicle ask “Is he your husband?” I laugh and say a defiant, “No!” [Images of our future together…our proposal, our wedding, our children flash before me and they’re gone, like the sunset…] We cross and as my vehicle leaves the Kanilai and enters Banjul, we wave… a chance encounter, twice lived…
Life here as a Volunteer, as you all know, is full of unexpected, unpredictable happenings and events. My encounter (times two) with British tourist cyclist man (whose real name is Jon) made me realize a few things:
1. Not all tourists like to throw minties out of tour bus windows. In fact, some like to brave it alone and when they get lost, they venture through villages to find their way and meet the people, Gambian and Volunteers.
2. Riding with a helmet still makes PCVs the coolest [and hoTTest] cyclists in all of The Gambia.
3. We should all ride our bikes more---we might meet some interesting people along the way.
4. Cycling is a great stress reliever.
5. Encounters like this reinforce the fact that The Gambia REALLY is THAT small.
posted by Stephanie at 1:16 PM
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