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…)

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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.

Happy Tobaski, Merry Christmas, and Happy New Year!

Before I head back to my village, I want to wish you all Happy Holidays! May you enjoy your time with loved ones and friends and know that I am thinking of all of you from afar and will miss you.

As for my holiday plans, I'll be celebrating the Muslim holiday of Tobaski (Tobaski info)on December 21 with host family and village. I will have a traditional African dress made (wrap skirt and matching top)and am excited to be having a nice party, with music and food. My host father has already purchased a ram. I just hope I'm MIA when my family goes to slaughter it. Travel throughout the country will be chaotic for the next week or so, and I've already begun to see rams (several) strapped to the roofs of gele-geles making the trans-Gambian journey.

For Christmas, I will be traveling West towards the Kombo area (but not entering Kombo)and will be staying with another PCV's Christian host family. There will be several PCVs there also celebrating. We will be eating bush pig (Muslims don't eat pork)and hopefully having some good Christmas cheer! As far as New Year's goes, I have no idea what I'll be doing, but it'll be worthwhile, I'm sure.

So for now, I wish you all a wonderful holiday season. I look forward to sharing more adventures with you in the New Year! Take care and all the best.

Love,
Stephanie

P.S. If you're sending me a letter, why not send me pictures too? I love receiving photographs from people.

To America and Back! The story of a long, lost letter...

Almost 4 months ago, I sent a letter to the friends and family of St. Andrew's UMC in care of the church's secretary because I could not remember the zip code of the church. I had in my address the home address of the the church's secretary. However, I did not realize that the letter I posted was to the wrong address as she had moved (2 years ago, mind you). OOPS!

Once I had access to Internet in October, I asked the church secretary if she had received my letter and she said no. So, I wrote an email about my current happenings at that time and sent it to her. That email was then posted online and sent to church family and friends in its newsletter.

The other day, as I checked my mailbox at the Peace Corps Office, I saw my letter that I posted to St. Andrew's in August had made a trans-Atlantic journey...TWICE! I guess the US Postal Service's Return to Sender system is much more efficient than I ever realized. Anyway, for fun, I thought I'd post my original letter here:

August 15, 2007

Dear St. Andrew's Family and Friends,

Greetings! I hope this finds you all well and gearing up for the fall season and all of its many activities! I thought I'd send a little update from The Smiling Coast of Africa. But first, I'd like to thank the Missions Committee for the two AMAZING care packages that were sent to me earlier this summer. Your time and thought of putting them together is greatly appreciated. I also want to thank everyone for your continued support-whether it'd be prayers, cards, letters, or even just asking my parents on Sunday about how I'm doing (They do makre sure to tell me that I am being though of/asked about). THANK YOU! THANK YOU! THANK YOU!

By the time this letter is received, I will be finishing my fourth month of life in my permanent village, called Pacharr. Overall, things have been going well here. Some dayss are still better than others, but I remind myself (daily) that this also occurs in the US too. MY host family is wonderful, but is quite large. My host uncle also resides in the compound with his three wives and their children. My family is loud as there is a lot of yelling, shouting, and crying (by the children), but there's also a lot of laughing (and no they just don't laugh AT me, although usually I am involved somehow.)

Although my language skills are still pretty horrible, I've begun looking into/working on a few projects in my village and surrounding area. (My language skills, or rather lack thereof, is my biggest problem/struggle right now.) For the past three weeks, I have been teaching a summer session at the primary and middle school here. I teach English to grades 7, 8, 9. (All classes aer taught in English, but the problem is that English is not spoken at home, so the children struggle.) At the end of grade 9, all students take an exam that is administered throughout countries in West Africa. IF students do not pass their grade 9 exam, they cannot continue onto Secondary School (unless families pay their way into it).

Teaching is a challenge here as many of he school teachers themselves have NOT completed their own Secondary School education/studies. Students are taught to memorize, not think freely. Working with the school and interacting with children in my village who are of school age, but whose parents do not send them or can't afford to send them has really opened my eyes to how fortunate I am to have a good education. In the coming school year, I will teach a few classes and hold special programs. I will also continue working with the school's agricultural department in starting its garden/orchard. I do not want be a full-time teacher here. (Plus, it's nice to have variety).

In addition to working with the school, I have been working with my assigned counterpart, who is a Community Health Nurse in my village. I help out on clinic days and assist with weighing babies and screening children under the age of five for malnutrition and immunizations. The work at the clinics can be mentally and emotionally draining; plus, the work is not sustainable. (Sustainability is a HUGE objective here and for Peace Corps.) My counterpart and I work well together, and we have decided to embark on some additional projects in the village, such as a montly environmental sanitation/clean-up day, an anti-smoking campaign, malaria preparedness, and HIV/AIDS education.

Other possible projects inlcude: creating an Arts Club for kids, expanding a community garden, revamping two women's group gardens, and restarting adult literacy classes. Many of these projects are still merely ideas, but as my language improves, I will be able to launch them.

To describe mylife or to give you perspective, here is just a brief account of today's morning and early fternoon: I awoke to one of my host mothers chopping firewood outside my bedroom window. The firewood was to be used to cook the family's breakfast of rice porridge. I got out of bed, used my pit latrine (top is cracked and soon may cave in due to the rains, despite it only being 3.5 months old), washed my face, using a cup and bucket full of wwater, dressed myself in a skirt made of local fabric and a t-shirt. I closed my windows and doors in case the August rains came while I was out. (Depending on the direction of rainy season storms, rain can easily soak my bed and wet my trunk full of "American" food as it comes in through an open window.) I greeted several members of my family good morning, which is cutomary here and one is considered dishonorable if he or she does not extend a series of extended greetings. I proceeded to walk two kilometers to school as my bicycle (Peace Corps issued-kind of like a company car-African style) has a flat tire, and I have yet to fix the puncture.

As I walked on and to the side of the pothole-riddled road, I briefly wondered why there were no school children laggin behind me. I stopped in a shop in the village where school is located. One of my students, whose father owns the shop, informed me as I asked for animal-cracker-like cookies that there was no school today as it was declared last night that today would be a Public Holiday---Assumption Day. I thanked him for telling me and walked out with my breakfast cookies, costing roughly 25 cents. I proceeded to the school to see if I could speak to my colleagues. Only a few students showed up for class and the decision was made to send them home. Apparently, those who showed up did not hear the public holiday announcement on the radio either. After confirmaing no school today, I walked back home, meeting some of my students along the way. Once home, I swept my house of the dust/dirt that never seems to stop collecting. Today I am feeling achey and nauseous and hope I am not getting sick, so I decided to rest. As I rested, the thick cloud of humidity overhead began to darken and the wind came. A heavy downpour began to fall as soon as I came inside from unravelling the rope that keeps my windows open. As I write this, I am sitting on my makeshift couch (a bamboo-like bed) and the rain is beating down on the corrugate roof overhead. If the rain stops this afternoon, then I'll head to the garden where I am helping a neighbor plant mango tree seedlings. Today we plan on finishing construction of the orchard's fence. (I nail the barbed wire to the tree posts.) IF I finish early, I will head to a soccer match that is the first for the village's summer tournament. (I've been appointed co-organizer even though I can only make out about 20% of what is discussed at the meetings.)

Well, I hope the little vignette of my day was able to briefly transport you to another world. Again, things are going fairly well here. Lately, I've missed home and its many people and things, but I remind myself that it will all be there when I return in 20 months. It also helps to know that I have so many people supporting me and praying for me, like the St. Andrew's family. Thank you.

With much love and thanks,
Stephanie (aka: Jaliika Fatty)

PS. The rats that live below my corrugate roof and above my rice bag ceiling have just woken up and have decided to play. Let's hope they don't come crashing through my ceiling!

PPS. My Mom has told me that many of you have asked how you can help me with my projects. Once more ground work is laid, I will be sure to let you know of any help/donations that are needed! Thanks so much!