<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1764511553228059150</id><updated>2011-12-02T16:51:18.012-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Adventures in The Gambia</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Alex</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>70</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1764511553228059150.post-7175627883923380702</id><published>2010-02-07T17:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-07T17:33:31.390-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Going Home (Written in Senegal on Jan 28, 2010)</title><content type='html'>I find it hard to believe that tomorrow I fly home. I will spend a&lt;br /&gt;couple of days in Princeton to see my sister and then it is back to&lt;br /&gt;LA. I finished my Peace Corps service earlier this month and I have&lt;br /&gt;spent the past couple of weeks traveling in West Africa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday I arrived back from Sierra Leone where I visited with a friend. Freetown is a fun and exciting city. Built at the base of mountains it overlooks the ocean.  The country is still recovering from the war, but there are signs of hope.  The streets were packed with people selling everything from whiskey to bread to stuffed animals to watermellons, and the amazing part was that people sold most of it from buckets on their heads. The country has beautiful beaches with white sands, palm trees, and mountains rising in the background. We went up country to the provinces to go climbing. The kid who guided us gave us a great insight into their culture. He said that when a leader of a secret society dies, he is buried without his head. His skull is used as a cup for later chiefs. It was a packed week and I wish I had more time to explore the country.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also went to Mali with another friend for 10 days.  Of all the places in West Africa I wanted to visit, dogon country in Mali was number 1.  The dogons built their villages in the cliffs like the cliff dewlings in the American southwest. We spent four days hiking between the villages. The people built impressive mud houses, and I enjoyed the climbing. The Gambia is completely flat and a change of scenery was great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My trip to Mali was a goodbye for me of the Gambia. It reminded me&lt;br /&gt;about the ups and downs. At the beginning of the trip nothing could&lt;br /&gt;upset me. I had just finished my peace corps service and a bribe from&lt;br /&gt;the border police, or our guide being arrested, or two days straight&lt;br /&gt;of traveling to the capital city of Mali did not bother me. Walking&lt;br /&gt;around the market in the capital reminded me of what I am going to&lt;br /&gt;miss. I am going to miss the chaos and confusion and knowing how to&lt;br /&gt;navigate it. I am going to miss the street food like fried plantains,&lt;br /&gt;bean sandwiches, and meat on a stick. I am going to miss the kindness of strangers like when a lady in the market gave me a free sandwich just for sitting with her or the man who invited us to stay in his friend's compound when we got stuck in a town.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a few days of hiking, I bought a Fula wedding blanket. Later I&lt;br /&gt;realized; the man had ripped me off. It pissed me off for a couple of&lt;br /&gt;days because it brought back all the frustration of being targeted&lt;br /&gt;because people see my white skin like people wanting to guide us, or&lt;br /&gt;asking me constantly for stuff. After a couple of these instances, I&lt;br /&gt;thought I was tired of being here. However, on my way back to the Gambia, I realized the good and the bad from my trip, is africa. I cannot have the joys without the frustrations. I guess that is what makes this place unique. I am definitely going to miss Africa a lot especially the people. Part of me wants to stay longer, but I am ready to go home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Alex&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. Thanks to everyone who donated to the Tree Nursery Competition Grant. It was fully funded. We went on trek and they will be awarding prizes soon. Thanks again and this would not have been possible without your help.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1764511553228059150-7175627883923380702?l=alexthegambia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/feeds/7175627883923380702/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1764511553228059150&amp;postID=7175627883923380702' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/7175627883923380702'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/7175627883923380702'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/2010/02/going-home-written-in-senegal-on-jan-28.html' title='Going Home (Written in Senegal on Jan 28, 2010)'/><author><name>Alex</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1764511553228059150.post-6148334904324123380</id><published>2010-01-12T19:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-12T19:04:03.118-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A summary of my experiences as a PCV in Africa these past 2 years</title><content type='html'>1. Plant my own rice field.&lt;br /&gt;2. See hippos, baboons, and a 2.5 meter spitting cobra in the wild&lt;br /&gt;3. Make rope from bark&lt;br /&gt;4. Learn to carry 6, three meter trees, on my bike for 7 kilometers&lt;br /&gt;5. Ride 33 hours (with only 1 hour rest) to Guinea, with 9 other people, in a station wagon without brakes.&lt;br /&gt;6. Realize America really is a great place.&lt;br /&gt;7. Find out carrying things on your head is easier [why didn’t anyone mention it sooner?].&lt;br /&gt;8. Leave milk out for three days to sour and call it a delicacy.&lt;br /&gt;9. Eat bird seed on a regular basis and think it is normal.&lt;br /&gt;10. Help plant over 6,000 trees in one year.&lt;br /&gt;11. Attend more baby showers and funerals in two years than my previous 22 years.&lt;br /&gt;12. Be on Gambian TV.&lt;br /&gt;13. Know which is the smallest country in Africa [I should know, I live there].&lt;br /&gt;14. Live on less than two dollars a day, sometimes even one dollar a day.&lt;br /&gt;15. Have 17 blisters on one hand at the same time.&lt;br /&gt;16. Question the benefit of aid for the poor and development work because it may cause more problems than it solves.&lt;br /&gt;17. Run a nationwide competition.&lt;br /&gt;18. Teach someone to read.&lt;br /&gt;19. Realize the only person to use the school library I worked in was myself.&lt;br /&gt;20. Ride my bike 70 kilometers in one day.&lt;br /&gt;21. Realize how positive Americans are.&lt;br /&gt;22. Butcher a bush pig, fail to cook it correctly [the meat had a cottage cheese consistency], but eat the meat anyway because we ate meat only once a month. &lt;br /&gt;23. Enter a mosque.&lt;br /&gt;24. Realize I am in another world when the women did not know how to hold a pen during my community needs assessment meeting.&lt;br /&gt;25. Poop in my pants&lt;br /&gt;26. Eat more than 10 mangoes in a day.&lt;br /&gt;27. Think a bean sandwich is the best breakfast.&lt;br /&gt;28. Receive compliments for wearing pajamas (African clothing) to a formal occasion&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1764511553228059150-6148334904324123380?l=alexthegambia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/feeds/6148334904324123380/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1764511553228059150&amp;postID=6148334904324123380' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/6148334904324123380'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/6148334904324123380'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/2010/01/summary-of-my-experiences-as-pcv-in.html' title='A summary of my experiences as a PCV in Africa these past 2 years'/><author><name>Alex</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1764511553228059150.post-3337066377604938129</id><published>2009-11-22T09:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-12T18:58:41.603-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tree Nursery Competition Grant – We need funds/donations</title><content type='html'>[THE PROJECT HAS RECEIVED ALL THE FUNDS. THANK YOU FOR DONATING. WE NOW CAN JUDGE THE SCHOOLS ON THEIR PROGRESS AND REWARD THEM FOR THEIR HARD WORK.]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This year I coordinated a nationwide tree planting competition in the Gambian school system. It is a great initiative that was started by a Peace Corps volunteer a few years ago. The competition is an incentive to teach school kids environmental education, and plant trees. The trees serve to beautiful the school, grow orchards, and woodlots. The fruit and timber from the grown trees will be used as food for the kids and income generation for the school.  See below post on the Tree Nursery - Award Ceremony project.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over 80 schools participated in this year’s competition growing over 20,000 seedlings. Unfortunately, the promised funding never came through. We now cannot finish this year’s competition. The kids and teachers have worked so hard on the competition we do not want to drop them halfway through. Therefore we wrote a Peace Corps Partnership grant to finish out the year and reward the winning schools with prizes. In the grant, the community must raise 25% of the funds and we raise the rest. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you can help, please donate at the Peace Corps site below. Any amount would be appreciated. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;https://www.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=resources.donors.contribute.projDetail&amp;projdesc=635-063&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;or       http://www.peacecorps.gov (click donations) – project number: 635-063&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you would like to donate, please do it as soon as you can because the competition is suppose to finish before the end of the year.   Thank you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Final thought  - The competition encourages schools to emphasize environmental education and plant trees to reforest The Gambia. The forestry knowledge and skills gained by the students will remain with them for a lifetime building a more environmentally conscious society.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/SwpxWg7282I/AAAAAAAAHWU/Juwjc9em33s/s1600/DSC07932.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/SwpxWg7282I/AAAAAAAAHWU/Juwjc9em33s/s320/DSC07932.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407258934223762274" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Students in their nursery site.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/SwpxWZYvuQI/AAAAAAAAHWM/CVHNVszZqB8/s1600/DSC07925.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/SwpxWZYvuQI/AAAAAAAAHWM/CVHNVszZqB8/s320/DSC07925.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407258932197439746" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An education official judging the tree nursery on first trek.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1764511553228059150-3337066377604938129?l=alexthegambia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/feeds/3337066377604938129/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1764511553228059150&amp;postID=3337066377604938129' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/3337066377604938129'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/3337066377604938129'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/2009/11/tree-nursery-competition-grant-please.html' title='Tree Nursery Competition Grant – We need funds/donations'/><author><name>Alex</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/SwpxWg7282I/AAAAAAAAHWU/Juwjc9em33s/s72-c/DSC07932.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1764511553228059150.post-8169728718259859007</id><published>2009-11-22T09:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-23T05:18:47.213-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Trees For The Future</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/Swp6rFiuSlI/AAAAAAAAHWs/7LlDOTHk7cA/s1600/IMG_1388.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/Swp6rFiuSlI/AAAAAAAAHWs/7LlDOTHk7cA/s320/IMG_1388.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407269183252482642" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This year I took over a project, Trees for the Future, from a volunteer who left for America. I organized the project this year because the volunteer’s replacement was new and still learning the language and culture. It turned out to be a great experience and what I enjoyed the most this past year. While the project took up a lot of my time because we worked in four villages, three of which were between 7-10km away from my village, it was worth it. I had fun and I learned a lot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The project encouraged farmers to plant trees to help combat deforestation and soil degradation. The main focus was to teach farmers to include trees with current agriculture practices. I held village meetings where we discussed the environmental degradation, and strategies to fix the problems. We discussed different trees for soil improvement, income generation, fence building, and fruit. Gambians in general want a field cleared of all trees. They think a place that is completely bare whether it be their courtyards or fields is better. We introduced the idea that a developed field and compound incorporates trees for fruit, shade, and beauty. We drew pictures as examples and discussed different ideas. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/Swp6qvSOdvI/AAAAAAAAHWk/qYNVHwGFtK0/s1600/IMG_1334.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/Swp6qvSOdvI/AAAAAAAAHWk/qYNVHwGFtK0/s320/IMG_1334.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407269177277708018" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some meetings went really well. People were really interested in the material and were asking a lot of questions. Other meetings left a lot to be desired with no one saying anything. It was a challenge because some of the meetings I had to conduct in local language (Pulaar), but I was surprised how much I could say and understand. Other times, I would speak in English and a counterpart would translate to Wolof, another local spoken language.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other part of the project involved tree nurseries. A person was selected in each village to be in charge of the project in the village. They grew the tree seedlings. When the rains came in August, they gave the trees away to villagers to plant in their fields. We spent a lot of time working with the nursery manager to plant and care for the seedlings. We also discussed the tree uses and correct planting spacing so the nursery manager could explain to other villagers when he gave the trees away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/Swp6qOoyBxI/AAAAAAAAHWc/dVILhQVfohY/s1600/IMG_1343.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/Swp6qOoyBxI/AAAAAAAAHWc/dVILhQVfohY/s320/IMG_1343.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407269168513943314" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the end of the rainy season, we planted over 6,000 trees with over 15 varieties. Another volunteer is taking over the project for next year and making sure the trees are protected from the livestock since during the dry season livestock is left roaming free.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1764511553228059150-8169728718259859007?l=alexthegambia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/feeds/8169728718259859007/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1764511553228059150&amp;postID=8169728718259859007' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/8169728718259859007'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/8169728718259859007'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/2009/11/my-favorite-project.html' title='Trees For The Future'/><author><name>Alex</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/Swp6rFiuSlI/AAAAAAAAHWs/7LlDOTHk7cA/s72-c/IMG_1388.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1764511553228059150.post-3687815328431863152</id><published>2009-11-22T09:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-22T22:01:08.293-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Medicine Men and Love Potions</title><content type='html'>I was sitting with a man one day talking when his daughter handed him some powder. He added some sugar, and started reciting words over the packages as he was tying them off. He told me it was a money potion. He said if I put the powder in water and then bathe with it, money would come my way. At first I did not understand what he was talking about but all of a sudden it all made sense. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At least once every two weeks I saw a car or taxi pull up to his compound, which is highly unusual. Only people with a lot of money can hire cars, and my village did not have money. I always thought it was strange. At that moment, I figured it out. He was a &lt;strong&gt;marabou&lt;/strong&gt;, a &lt;em&gt;medicine man&lt;/em&gt;, as we would call it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have heard of witch doctors and voodoo, but the Gambia has something a little different. They are called marabous. They tell fortunes, cure sick people, and make charms. They are extremely common in the Gambia, and Gambians believe in them, but they are very inconspicuous. The man in my village had the same house as everyone else, very plain with a bed, a mat, and some clothes hanging over a line. He dressed the same and worked just like every other man in village. I guess I let the Hollywood stereotype get the best of me because when I think of medicine men I think of dead animals, face paint, cauldrons, and bones.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Charms, or jujus as Gambians call it, are extremely popular. All Gambians have at least one. They wear them around their waist, bicep, or neck. They can bring good luck, or ward off evil spirits. They can prevent knifes from penetrating the skin or allow for safe travel. People can get them for almost any reason. One boy in village approached me one day to borrow my bike. He wanted to travel 12km to find a marabou that would make girls attracted to him. He wanted to go when it was dark so no one could see him leave. He wanted it to be a secret. He told me not to tell anyone in village. A few weeks later he said it was working.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1764511553228059150-3687815328431863152?l=alexthegambia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/feeds/3687815328431863152/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1764511553228059150&amp;postID=3687815328431863152' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/3687815328431863152'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/3687815328431863152'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/2009/11/medicine-men-and-love-potions.html' title='Medicine Men and Love Potions'/><author><name>Alex</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1764511553228059150.post-6421638309663619507</id><published>2009-11-17T12:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-22T21:57:39.133-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Busy Busy</title><content type='html'>My first year of service seemed really slow. I hung out in village not knowing what to do or why I was placed there. I could not find any work to do. I mostly sat around my compound listening to conversations and trying my broken Pulaar. I spent time doing manual labor such as building fences and houses in order to learn about what people did. I would say I was what we call a cultural volunteer who spends a lot of time with the family and community learning about the culture and sharing mine. All I wanted to do was find real work to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My second year has been completely different. My this time I mastered their language, Pulaar, which made my interaction with the locals a much easier task.  From spring through the rainy season, I was really busy. I had met a lot of people interested in planting trees, and I traveled to their villages almost every day. I spent a lot of time meeting with people to discuss ways to improve their agriculture yields, combat deforestation and increase household income by incorporating agro-forestry techniques with current agricultural practices. I helped them fill and plant polypots, and plant trees. When the rainy season arrived we made development plans for their fields. Looking back at it, while I enjoyed what I was doing, I wish I could have slowed down a little and spent more time in village.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think it is kind of ironic that the first year I wanted more work because I spent too much time in village but the second year I had too much work and felt I was missing out on the village experience. I think this is typical of most Peace Corps volunteers because the first year we are learning about our communities and surroundings. We cannot speak the language and do not with whom to work. After some time, we discover the people who are willing to work and receptive to trying new ideas. At first, people who approach us tend to be hustlers just looking for handouts. This is frustrating because I wanted to hit the ground running when I showed up in village, but instead I had to wait a year to actually find real tasks. It was a good learning experience that to really help people it is important to take time to learn about the community. Otherwise the project might be a waste because it falls apart after we leave (see marnie’s blog).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1764511553228059150-6421638309663619507?l=alexthegambia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/feeds/6421638309663619507/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1764511553228059150&amp;postID=6421638309663619507' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/6421638309663619507'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/6421638309663619507'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/2009/11/busy-busy.html' title='Busy Busy'/><author><name>Alex</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1764511553228059150.post-2847882841607377634</id><published>2009-11-16T03:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-22T21:52:54.897-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The problem with donor money</title><content type='html'>A fellow peace corps volunteer in the Gambia wrote a blog post about the problem of sustainability and how most Non Governmental Organizations (NGOs) work. It explains many of my frustrations with donors giving money to villages. The villagers then think money will be given to them whether they work hard or not. I have learned throwing money at a problem does not help the situation and usually makes it worse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is the first paragraph she wrote:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A lot of volunteers, NGOs, etc. will roll into a village spend a couple days there and declare "You need a ______ (school/library/garden/clinic)!" This sort of situation is the WORST IDEA EVER and not sustainable AT ALL! For example, an NGO walks into a village and says, "You need a garden and we're going to build you one," and all the village people, if you will, are all super excited. The NGO then proceeds to build the garden using all expensive materials instead of local ones, ie. steel poles instead of wooden ones, chain-link instead of live fencing, pumps instead of wells. And the villagers love it and they start gardening. Fast-forward one year to when the pump breaks. Who's going to fix it? Well, no one has the money to fix a pump and since none of the villagers feel any ownership over the garden, it's not anyone's responsibility. So the pump never gets fixed. And the garden ceases to be used and just sits there. Fast forward 5 years, another NGO comes and says, oh, here's this garden just sitting here being unused, let us fix it for you and/or build you a better one. And on and on it goes.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please read the rest of her blog post. &lt;br /&gt;"The problem with sustainability and the way 99% of NGOs function". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It gives a more detailed picture of the situation - &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://marniesaur.blogspot.com/&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1764511553228059150-2847882841607377634?l=alexthegambia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/feeds/2847882841607377634/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1764511553228059150&amp;postID=2847882841607377634' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/2847882841607377634'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/2847882841607377634'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/2009/11/problem-with-donor-money.html' title='The problem with donor money'/><author><name>Alex</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1764511553228059150.post-609079382099760812</id><published>2009-11-16T02:34:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-23T03:16:13.901-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mummified - A Fula Wedding</title><content type='html'>I had been waiting all day for this moment. I watched as the women filed into the compound. I asked the man next to me where the bride was. He pointed to a brightly clothed woman. I was confused. My host sister was getting married, but the woman he pointed to was not my host sister. I asked again and this time he said look behind. Then I saw her, my host sister. She stood huddled behind the women wrapped from head to toe in fula fabric (Fula fabric is traditional fabric made by hand by the Fulas). She reminded me of a mummy because I could not see any skin. I do not know how she breathed. It was a hot day and the fabric covered her face. A man picked her up and laid her down on a prayer mat and the official tying of the knot started.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/SwpqmCdxlnI/AAAAAAAAHV0/d9IeuBPOMQk/s1600/IMG_0978.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/SwpqmCdxlnI/AAAAAAAAHV0/d9IeuBPOMQk/s320/IMG_0978.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407251504341030514" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                  The bride covered from head to toe in white&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The wedding began the day before in the bride’s father’s compound (where I lived). It started with a big lunch for all the guests. My compound killed two goats. I never saw my host sister the whole day. She stayed in the house, while everyone else was dancing, cooking, talking, and having a good time. Right before dark, the gifts were brought out and a crier started to count all the presents. My host sister had over 40 buckets, 250 meters of fabric, and 70 bowls not to mention the other household items she received. Each guest brought a present. To me, it seemed such a waste to have some items of the same kind because these people do not have enough money to replace their own broken bowls and buckets, but one woman gets more buckets, meters of fabric and bowls than she could use in her entire life. Later I learned the presents are actually shared with the family and friends. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Around 1 am, a gele (bush taxi) showed up with the groom contingent. After a couple of hours the groom left taking the bride to his village. Women, the bride’s family and friends, go in the car to the groom’s village. The bride’s parents do not go. The women were all crying (extremely uncommon in Gambian culture) because my host sister was leaving her village for good and may be visiting only rarely. Men usually do not go, but my family encouraged me to go to the groom's village to see what happens next.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/SwpqmkuNcRI/AAAAAAAAHWE/HN4CrEH9Gn8/s1600/IMG_1159.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/SwpqmkuNcRI/AAAAAAAAHWE/HN4CrEH9Gn8/s320/IMG_1159.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407251513536770322" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                              The groom is on the left&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The bride contingent stayed the entire morning in a different compound while people arrived in the groom’s compound. The women cooked. The men chatted. The kids chased each other around. Around two, the bride’s contingent showed up in the compound to look at the cow to be slaughtered for the meal. They approved and the dancing began. I helped a man from my village kill the cow and cut up the meat. In the evening the bride and her contingent showed up in the compound as the sun was going down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sat in the back watching as a family friend picked my host sister up to lay her down on the prayer mat. All the men were sitting around her. The groom was sitting a couple of rows back. Many men spoke and blessed the two. Then everyone got up and I could not see where my host sister went. Luckily a woman explained to me what was going to happen. I quickly followed a bunch of people as they headed to the open well. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My host sister went through the ritual of what she must do before she can enter in her "married" house. She knelt on each side of the well. She washed her husband’s clothes splashing everyone when she finished. She then went to the cattle field where a kid milked a cow. She finally was able to take off the fabric around her head and put it on the cow. Now she was ready to enter her house. As she approached the door, the groom’s friends would not let her in. The women’s friends must pay the fee to enter which is not more than 2 or 3 dollars but there was a lot of negotiating the price down. Then the women ran in trying to smear cream on the groom’s friends as they tried to escape. The women then took over the house. The bride was in her house and the women stayed there all night talking, eating, and congratulating the bride. The party continued the next day. Fula weddings are always three days, with much eating, dancing and celebrating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/SwpqmXABeJI/AAAAAAAAHV8/bP0akH_ndVA/s1600/IMG_1152.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/SwpqmXABeJI/AAAAAAAAHV8/bP0akH_ndVA/s320/IMG_1152.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407251509853386898" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;          The bride after she removed the fabric over her face.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1764511553228059150-609079382099760812?l=alexthegambia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/feeds/609079382099760812/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1764511553228059150&amp;postID=609079382099760812' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/609079382099760812'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/609079382099760812'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/2009/11/mummified-fula-wedding.html' title='Mummified - A Fula Wedding'/><author><name>Alex</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/SwpqmCdxlnI/AAAAAAAAHV0/d9IeuBPOMQk/s72-c/IMG_0978.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1764511553228059150.post-5078560786948089657</id><published>2009-11-16T02:34:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-22T21:37:35.989-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tree Competition - Awards Ceremony</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;This year I coordinated the nationwide Gambia All Schools Tree Nursery Competition in the lower (elementary) and upper (middle) basic schools in the Gambia with representatives from the Department of Education, National Environment Agency and the Department of Forestry. The number of participating schools has fallen over the past three years. We decided to hold an awards ce&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;remony to generate excitement about the competition.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/SwEtLKAUV0I/AAAAAAAAHVc/0mKbN6Nj8hM/s1600/DSC07722.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/SwEtLKAUV0I/AAAAAAAAHVc/0mKbN6Nj8hM/s320/DSC07722.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404650697508804418" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;We held the first ever awards ceremony at the fir&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;st place school to celebrate the successes of the top three schools.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It was a great event with food, music, songs, and dancing. We invited high ranking government officials and the media to attend. The second and third place schools sent representatives. We awarded prizes, garden tools, to all the schools. The event was later broadcasted on the radio throughout the entire country. It also appeared in the newspaper.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/SwEvmZOH6QI/AAAAAAAAHVk/gdlf8Nkneqc/s1600/DSC07698.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/SwEvmZOH6QI/AAAAAAAAHVk/gdlf8Nkneqc/s320/DSC07698.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404653364472965378" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I gave a speech to introduce the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;competition. Re&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;presentativ&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;es from each participating organization also gave short speeches about the importance of the competition to combat deforestation and teach environmental education. We had a person who translated everything from English to Mandinka, the local language. The speeches started to drag a little, but the last speaker stole the show.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;The head boy of the winning school spoke a few words ab&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;out why we should plant trees, and why he likes planting trees. I was surprised how good his English was for the sixth grade. It was great to see him talking about the environment. I looked around and saw how proud the other kids were to win the competition. It made all the work worthwhile. The point of the competition is to teach kids about environmental education. If we can teach them to plant trees hopefully they will remember it for the rest of their lives.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1764511553228059150-5078560786948089657?l=alexthegambia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/feeds/5078560786948089657/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1764511553228059150&amp;postID=5078560786948089657' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/5078560786948089657'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/5078560786948089657'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/2009/11/tree-competition-awards-ceremony.html' title='Tree Competition - Awards Ceremony'/><author><name>Alex</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/SwEtLKAUV0I/AAAAAAAAHVc/0mKbN6Nj8hM/s72-c/DSC07722.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1764511553228059150.post-5014905746611785972</id><published>2009-08-14T02:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-15T15:05:09.438-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Closure of Service Conference - almost home</title><content type='html'>In case any of you are wondering, yes, I am still in Africa with the Peace Corps. I actually just came back from spending three days at the Sheraton hotel for my closure of service conference. I fully enjoyed the pool, hot showers, and all you can eat breakfast buffet that had bacon, sausage, and real cheese. It was a relaxing few days where we received tips on finishing our service (tie up the loose ends), preparing ourselves for going home. Apparently it is difficult for Peace Corps volunteers to adjust back to America. We also received resume tips, career advice, and provided feedback to Peace Corps staff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am coming to the end of my service. The official date is in November, but I may extend my time to help with training the new group of volunteers. Whether I extend it or not, I only have a little over two months at site which is hard to believe. The past year has flown by. I have not been good about writing, but the past year has been a busy year for me. The first year I had a lot of frustrations not finding work and adjusting to the culture. During this past year I still have a lot of frustrations but I now know how to navigate the system better. While some volunteers look back at their service as a negative experience, I feel that I taught people new techniques, and had accomplishments. I found good people with whom to work planting over 6000 trees. Another aspect of the past year has been the cultural aspect of Peace Corps, which tends to be a larger part of our experience such as working in the fields, sitting and talking, and brewing green tea (Gambia's national past time). Now that I know the language, I have had some interesting conversations about why men have multiple wives, and how America and The Gambia are different.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Out of my group of 25 environment volunteers, 9 have left the country early and 2 have extended for a third year to other countries (Jordan and China) that leaves 14 of us in country.  I have debated with myself extending my service for another year, but I am ready to come home. As I said I may extend for training so I will probably be home mid January.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1764511553228059150-5014905746611785972?l=alexthegambia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/feeds/5014905746611785972/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1764511553228059150&amp;postID=5014905746611785972' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/5014905746611785972'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/5014905746611785972'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/2009/08/cos-conference-almost-home.html' title='Closure of Service Conference - almost home'/><author><name>Alex</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1764511553228059150.post-8709282023414680683</id><published>2009-01-17T03:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-19T07:52:36.080-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Benin</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;I just got back from a week in Benin. For those you who never heard of it, it is a west &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;African&lt;/span&gt; country near the equator. I have heard it is also where voodoo originated. Since the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Gambia&lt;/span&gt; is mostly &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Islamic&lt;/span&gt; with few &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;animist&lt;/span&gt; practices, I decided to go to Benin for the international voodoo festival.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293032125661598226" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/SXSgrLLKUhI/AAAAAAAAF1A/dsK7cm5-2VM/s320/ChristophHerby_OuidahScarification+(4).JPG" border="0" /&gt;I really liked Benin. It reminded me of Brazil. When I stepped off the plane I was hit with a wave of heat and humidity (apparently it is the cool season. I cannot imagine how hot it would be during the other times of the year). Walking around town, I saw women carrying &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;pineapples&lt;/span&gt; on their heads and cooking plantains on the sidewalks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I visited Grand &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Popo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;, a beach village. We camped on the beautiful beach, and watched a local &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;NGO&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; release sea turtles with school kids. We took a boat trip in the lagoons visiting fishing villages and watched fisherman throwing their nets for fish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We next went to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;ouidah&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; for the voodoo festival. We almost missed some of the voodoo idols because all around town are these cement mounds. We figured they were left over cement, but we saw men kneel before them and we found out the mounds protected spirits. We later went to the beach for the voodoo festivities. We saw a lot of dancing, drumming, and haystack spinning (local gods). We also saw men cutting their arms and heads with knives and then pouring alcohol on themselves. It was crazy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293032507647551794" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/SXShBaLtaTI/AAAAAAAAF1I/VntZvwF65M0/s320/ChristophHerby_OuidahDancing+(1).JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Spinning haystack&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We travelled a little up country hiking in the hills around &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Dassa&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;, and visiting a restored king's palace, which had a throne resting on skulls of his enemies. Cotonou, the largest city, was a lot more developed than The Gambia with an extensive system of traffic lights, roads, and sidewalks. Unlike the Gambia there were a lot of cars, but in the cities there are no taxis. Instead people ride on the backs of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;motorcycle&lt;/span&gt; taxis. We received helmets from the peace corps office, but i was still a little nervous riding them. They would make left turns into sea of cars, trucks, and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;zems&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; (as they are locally called). Many times I thought we were going to crash, but always as if it was the parting of the red sea, a hole would open up and we would dash through it.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293033053074482786" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/SXShhKDn5mI/AAAAAAAAF1Q/XeimCxMGJlk/s320/DSC07571.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;Kristina and I at the beach with our motorcycle helmets&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1764511553228059150-8709282023414680683?l=alexthegambia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/feeds/8709282023414680683/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1764511553228059150&amp;postID=8709282023414680683' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/8709282023414680683'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/8709282023414680683'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/2009/01/benin.html' title='Benin'/><author><name>Alex</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/SXSgrLLKUhI/AAAAAAAAF1A/dsK7cm5-2VM/s72-c/ChristophHerby_OuidahScarification+(4).JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1764511553228059150.post-3287092620053783492</id><published>2009-01-17T02:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-17T03:03:39.669-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Work for the New Year</title><content type='html'>Last month was the mid way point of my service. Around Thanksgiving of this year I will be coming home. While it is a long way off, I think the time will fly by. Here are some of the projects I will work on until the end of the year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;Elementary School - I want to continue working at the elementary school in the next village in the school garden planting trees and vegetables. I am working with a teacher on the use of the library and hopefully i can continue teaching environmental education to the older grades. We tried to do a play on deforestation to present to the school, but the kids could not remember their lines.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Tree Nursery Competition - I am the co national coordinator for the competition in all the elementary and middle schools of the gambia. I work with representatives from the dept of Education, dept of Forestry, and the National Environment Agency to motivate schools to participate and plant as many trees as possible.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Village sensitizations - I am probably the most excited about this project. I am building on work started by a peace corps volunteer last year. We will work in five surrounding villages planting central tree nurseries, and holding town meetings on the benefits of planting trees. The meetings will emphasize the financial benefits because I have realized while many people understand the enivornmental degradation aspect, the prospect of selling mature trees for cash will be a greater motivator.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p&gt;While I have been frustrated with my work, I have a better idea of what I will be doing this year. Therefore, I think i will be able to accomplish more.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1764511553228059150-3287092620053783492?l=alexthegambia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/feeds/3287092620053783492/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1764511553228059150&amp;postID=3287092620053783492' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/3287092620053783492'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/3287092620053783492'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/2009/01/work-for-new-year.html' title='Work for the New Year'/><author><name>Alex</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1764511553228059150.post-6913368219114917942</id><published>2008-12-25T10:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-26T11:55:29.474-08:00</updated><title type='text'>FIRE - RUN</title><content type='html'>A few days before I came into the capital for Christmas, I helped fight (when I say fight, I mean mostly watch) a bush fire african-style.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5283811245867057346" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/SVPeVVIewMI/AAAAAAAAFWw/vpijITYtwuk/s320/IMG_0380.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;The area between the villages has mostly short dry grasses so fires burn easily. In between the three nearby villages there are nothing but fields; by the way, I can see those villages at the distance from my village . &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;After breakfast, I started to make/fix the fence around my garden with the help of Mamadou, my counterpart in The Gambia. After 15 minutes or so, we saw smoke rising in the distance halfway between my village and the next; the villages are about 2km apart. My father and some of my host brothers took off, machete and rake in hand. Soon afterwards we saw the smoke greatly increased; thus my counterpart and I also took off toward the fire. When I got close I was very surprised. Boys and men were swinging branches with leaves to put out the fire. I could not believe they actually thought they could put out the fire with just leafy branches. Sure enough the wind picked up and the men realized they were no match for the fire.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We all headed back to the village and started to clear a firebreak of 2 meters around the village. I was trying to figure out how they were going to put the fire out. I thought maybe they would just let the fire die out on its own. However, by this point the fire was growing towards another village to the west of my village. I started to tell my counterpart we should widen the firebreak, but my counterpart told me to relax, that the fire would be taken care of. All of a sudden, boys in their late teens and twenties started to show up from everywhere carrying leafy branches. They took off toward the fire and started beating the flames and running along the fire line. Women started carrying water out to the fields, but instead of using the water on the fire, the men drank it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I stood there not knowing what to do because I did not think they could do it; however, with help from all four villages, they succeeded in putting out the flames. Soon afterward everyone went home. Apparently fires happen every year so they are experts at putting them out. Last year was a rare event since there were no fires. I still find it amazing how the villagers put out the fire using only branches, but I guess that is what they have. There is no running water or fire service so they make do with what they have.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1764511553228059150-6913368219114917942?l=alexthegambia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/feeds/6913368219114917942/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1764511553228059150&amp;postID=6913368219114917942' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/6913368219114917942'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/6913368219114917942'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/2008/12/fire-run.html' title='FIRE - RUN'/><author><name>Alex</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/SVPeVVIewMI/AAAAAAAAFWw/vpijITYtwuk/s72-c/IMG_0380.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1764511553228059150.post-5062919139073960620</id><published>2008-12-25T10:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-26T11:55:55.720-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, and Happy New Year</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I wish everyone happy holidays and a happy New Year. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I spent Christmas in the capital (Banjul) with my friends, relaxing at the beach and eating good food.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think this is one of the most difficult times of the year. This year more than last, when everything was still new, I really wanted to be back home for the holidays. I miss my family and friends, and here, there are no christmas lights, decorations, or music. At least I know next year I will be home for Christmas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People in The Gambia have heard of Christmas, but know very little about it. They think of it as Tobaski for Christians. Tobaski is a big muslim holiday that we celebrated two weeks ago. I do not know its roots, but it is tied into the story of Abraham and Isaac in the Bible. On God's order, Abraham was going to kill his son, when God intervened at the last second, and told him to kill a ram instead. Therefore gambian families try to kill a ram for the holiday if they can afford it. My family killed two.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5283807006030939362" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/SVPaeigxxOI/AAAAAAAAFVw/GS4NrH6FY1o/s320/IMG_0382.JPG" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;My lunch&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During Tobaski, everyone is happy around here. People dress up in their nice clothes, and do not work. My compound was really excited with the prospect of eating meat. This is one of the few times they have the opportunity to eat meat. Chicken, beef, goat and lamb are considered luxuries that most families cannot eat on a regular occasion. In my one year of living in village, I have eaten chicken twice, goat once, and lamb last year for tobaski with my host family. However, after three days of eating sheep for every meal trying everthing from intestines to stomach, I was glad to go back to the normal millet, peanut sauce and squash that we eat for two meals on most days.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5283807291346086162" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/SVPavJZNaRI/AAAAAAAAFV4/RSTBxTQSegw/s320/IMG_0441.JPG" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;My host mom (wearing an outfit from the fabric my american mom gave her) and my neighbor&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1764511553228059150-5062919139073960620?l=alexthegambia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/feeds/5062919139073960620/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1764511553228059150&amp;postID=5062919139073960620' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/5062919139073960620'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/5062919139073960620'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/2008/12/merry-christmas-happy-hanukkah-and.html' title='Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, and Happy New Year'/><author><name>Alex</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/SVPaeigxxOI/AAAAAAAAFVw/GS4NrH6FY1o/s72-c/IMG_0382.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1764511553228059150.post-83987064100147216</id><published>2008-12-25T08:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-26T07:42:37.423-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Rainy Season Ending</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/SVPcQjIHGkI/AAAAAAAAFWY/Trn29gBcmcQ/s1600-h/IMG_9806.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5283808964701002306" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/SVPcQjIHGkI/AAAAAAAAFWY/Trn29gBcmcQ/s320/IMG_9806.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; My host brother in the millet field&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;The rainy season ended a long time ago, but as you know I have failed to write in a while. The rainy season is the work season in The Gambia. My family goes out in the morning and afternoon almost every day from June until November. There is about a month break in August and September when the weeding is finished and people wait for the crops to ripen. My family grew peanuts called groundnuts, millet, sesame, and rice. I joined my family in the planting, weeding, and harvesting. After a morning and afternoon of weeding I do not envy their jobs. Farming is hard work and after a day of weeding by hand, all I wanted to do is crawl into the fetal position and not move. My lower back hurt badly after the day of bending over. It is amazing watching villagers especially the elderly women who weed for hours without rest bent over with their backs completely straight. (Gambians also grow watermellon, squash, and sweet potatoes.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5283808361088096434" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/SVPbtaflGLI/AAAAAAAAFWI/4ZPofxAhyk8/s320/IMG_0378.JPG" border="0" /&gt;My host family separating the peanuts from the dried groundnut plant&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;This year I convinced my family to grow rice. Rice normally grows in paddies with lots of water, but my village is not near a water supply. There is a new type of rice, NERICA or dryland rice, that can be grown with little amounts of water. I wanted to introduce it to my area so my father and I decided to try a small field this year. Looking back at it, I wonder if it was worthwhile because I spent most of the time arguing with my family about it. I had difficult'y getting them to help me weed and harvest; I think they considered my project, not a family affair. In certain places, the weeds ended up being taller than the rice because my host family would not weed and I refused to do it all on my own (too big a job). We also had a problem with cows eating the rice. The villagers herd the large cows but they let the calves roam free. I cannot understand why they let the calves roam and destroy part of the crops. My father told me people do not agree to herding them and that they do not destroy a lot. In the end, we put cow dung in water and spread it over the fields which kept them away. But, even with all the problems, the rice did produce, and my father is saving seeds for next year. If he plants it next year, I can call it a success so I am keeping my fingers crossed that he will.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5283808767027975778" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/SVPcFCvMFmI/AAAAAAAAFWQ/zp1ZgDXOr9U/s320/IMG_9925.JPG" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;Me in the rice field&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Next to my house I had a rainy season garden growing cucumbers, squash, sweet potatoes, cassava, and tomatoes. My American pumkin failed miserably. It produced one big pumkin. I kept constant tabs on it and on the day I was going to pick it, it collapsed in on itself completely rotten. My biggest success was cucumber. Unfortunately my village did not like it. They would eat one small piece to be polite, but would not go back for seconds. I ended up eating seven cucumbers in three days and still had some left. I gave one to a lady who is always nice to me. She started to cut it and offer it to the kids, but they had already tried it in my compound the day before and refused. In gambian culture, people must always say food tastes good so she refused to give it back to me when I said I would eat it. She kept forcing it down. By the the squint in her eyes and the puckering of her lips, I knew she found it really sour.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5283809857532293666" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/SVPdEhLrciI/AAAAAAAAFWg/aRhs4n1EnY8/s320/IMG_9813.JPG" border="0" /&gt; &lt;div align="center"&gt;My garden and polypots (orange, lemon, and mango)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now the men are starting to relax because their work is done. They build fences from time to time, but for the most part they can go back to brewing attaya, green tea, in the morning and afternoon. I think attaya can be considered the national pastime in the gambia.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5283808189444845570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/SVPbjbEo8AI/AAAAAAAAFWA/gHox7q0SXaQ/s320/DSC07429.JPG" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt; Me and my host brothers brewing attaya&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1764511553228059150-83987064100147216?l=alexthegambia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/feeds/83987064100147216/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1764511553228059150&amp;postID=83987064100147216' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/83987064100147216'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/83987064100147216'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/2008/12/rainy-season-ending.html' title='Rainy Season Ending'/><author><name>Alex</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/SVPcQjIHGkI/AAAAAAAAFWY/Trn29gBcmcQ/s72-c/IMG_9806.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1764511553228059150.post-4564116870092649650</id><published>2008-08-24T05:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-12T16:50:29.540-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Termites</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;Oh and just for fun and as an experiment, we destroyed a termite mound. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;The first picture shows the mound, after it was cut, resting on a tree (it was about 6 feet high)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;The second picture shows it upside down on the ground.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5238062647594322994" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/SLFWOb0aDDI/AAAAAAAADx4/XNV7G9hH-pA/s320/DSC06717.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5238062948124547266" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/SLFWf7YZWMI/AAAAAAAADyA/lpVrEHzz9_U/s320/DSC06724.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;Of course four days later, they had already built the mound back about a foot and a half.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5238064028860992146" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/SLFXe1cCypI/AAAAAAAADyI/dsH0-yXFAoo/s320/IMG_9306.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1764511553228059150-4564116870092649650?l=alexthegambia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/feeds/4564116870092649650/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1764511553228059150&amp;postID=4564116870092649650' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/4564116870092649650'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/4564116870092649650'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/2008/08/termites.html' title='Termites'/><author><name>Alex</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/SLFWOb0aDDI/AAAAAAAADx4/XNV7G9hH-pA/s72-c/DSC06717.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1764511553228059150.post-6382279403874159494</id><published>2008-08-24T04:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-24T07:44:05.813-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Morocco</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;I arrived back from a vacation to Spain and Morocco, and for the past couple of days I have been a little down. It is difficult to adjust back to life after traveling, but in the next couple of days I should get back into the swing of things. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5238056406891777682" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/SLFQjLY-TpI/AAAAAAAADxo/vDA93QMkzfw/s320/DSC06771.JPG" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;Snake charmers in Marrakech&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;I had a great time walking around the cities in Morocco. There were some small problems such as my bag not showing up for four days and feeling sick for the first week, but I enjoyed taking a break from The Gambia and forgetting about my frustrations and concerns. Morocco was not exactly what I expected. I thought I would see tilework, arches and architecture influenced by the Moors. Instead I only saw it in the Marrakech museum. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5238055860187094546" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/SLFQDWwa3hI/AAAAAAAADxY/0TzmJTf6qbk/s320/IMG_9428.JPG" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;Mosque in Casablanca&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;While I only spent a half a day in Casablanca, the mosque, third largest in the world, was an impressive site. Non muslims cannot go into mosques, but this one had an exception. The room with thirty some fountains was a creative and beautiful way to provide enough water for the people to wash their hands, feet, and face before they pray.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5238056550674752482" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/SLFQrjBgY-I/AAAAAAAADxw/AirCiv3ulNU/s320/IMG_9492.JPG" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;Shops in Chefchauoen&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;Another highlight was Chefchaouen, a town in the mountains, made famous by its blue doors and buildings. I had a great time wandering around the small streets admiring the buildings and views of the valley. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5238055711454948578" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/SLFP6sr6bOI/AAAAAAAADxQ/A5HVfO7zarE/s400/IMG_9388.JPG" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;The walled medina in Essouira&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;Most Moroccan cities have a medina, a walled older section. The areas are packed with buildings and shops. Each city is unique, from the waves breaking on Essaouira's city walls to Marrakech's dates, spices, and freshly squeezed orange juice. Every place was interesting;  if I go back I will spend some time in the mountains. We planned to go to one village in the mountains, but we had to cut it out of our plans due to our bag situation.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1764511553228059150-6382279403874159494?l=alexthegambia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/feeds/6382279403874159494/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1764511553228059150&amp;postID=6382279403874159494' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/6382279403874159494'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/6382279403874159494'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/2008/08/morocco.html' title='Morocco'/><author><name>Alex</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/SLFQjLY-TpI/AAAAAAAADxo/vDA93QMkzfw/s72-c/DSC06771.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1764511553228059150.post-6811550456734137450</id><published>2008-08-24T04:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-24T07:46:39.397-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Work</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;During the raining season, people in village work a lot. It was almost as if the rains flipped a switch and everyone started to work. They have to do it because this four month period is when they produce all the food that will feed them for the rest of the year. What surprised me was the fact that people were also more interested in doing the environment projects I have been encouraging people to do. My counterpart built a fence out of branches and logs which is unheard of. He has been talking about it for four months, but since he never did anything I did not take him seriously. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5238050026544718386" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/SLFKvyvsYjI/AAAAAAAADw4/RMSBPJJ99vY/s320/DSC06690.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Painting the library&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;One teacher and I painted the school library, and my jaw dropped when I walked in the library to see that the school folks had arranged the books without my knowledge. My father and I planted cuttings, branches of trees that when planted will grow into a tree, to make a fence, and he immediately agreed to help me plant my trees in polypots in the fields.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5238050262966414530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/SLFK9jfBLMI/AAAAAAAADxA/IrrnfQqgeKc/s320/DSC06671.JPG" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;School kids planting cuttings&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;My excitment hit a brick wall when it came to planting rice. Before the rainy season my father said he would help me plant rice, but he only planted the rice after my counterpart chewed him out. I also worked overtime weeding the rice and my father only came a couple of times. My family started to help when I complained and asked why they were not helping. I realize now that weeding rice is more tiring than the other crops and my family does not want to do it. Also my host brothers already feel maxed out with their fields. I learned that next year I will not plant a field because my family does not really have the time or motivation to do extra fields.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5238050422021022866" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/SLFLG0Al5JI/AAAAAAAADxI/R2pV8ht2PTg/s320/IMG_9244.JPG" border="0" /&gt;Amadou in my garden&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1764511553228059150-6811550456734137450?l=alexthegambia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/feeds/6811550456734137450/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1764511553228059150&amp;postID=6811550456734137450' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/6811550456734137450'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/6811550456734137450'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/2008/08/work.html' title='Work'/><author><name>Alex</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/SLFKvyvsYjI/AAAAAAAADw4/RMSBPJJ99vY/s72-c/DSC06690.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1764511553228059150.post-198048268889206558</id><published>2008-08-24T04:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-14T17:16:53.360-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Rain, Rain, Rain</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;One night, I woke to the rattling in my roof. I lay in bed listening to the pounding of the rain and the increasing strength of the wind. My metal corrugated roof made so much sound I was convinced my roof was going to blow away. I flashed my light around looking for leaks. I found one spot where the water pooled and dripped through my rice bad ceiling. I placed a bucket to catch the water and tried to fall back asleep attempting to put aside my worries of the roof.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5238044810538440114" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/SLFGALm41bI/AAAAAAAADww/iSBTTiwP-44/s320/IMG_9251.JPG" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;Storm clouds are approaching&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;In the morning I woke to find a skylight. One sheet of corrugate folded over causing light to shine inside my house. I considered myself lucky because when I went outside to survey the damage I saw one man's roof completely blown away and my host brother's grass roof fell off. My roof was an easy fix and I survived my first rain storm in village.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;This storm was one of the many storms I have seen come and go. The rainy season lasts from June to September. During the month of August it rains almost everyday. I like the rainy season more than the hot/dry season. The rains bring a cool breeze and the barren wasteland turns green. Walking to the next village, I felt as if I was in a golf course due to the thin layer of green and scattered trees. Now the weeds are over head high. The rainy season is also the work season. Everyone plows, plants, or weeds the fields in the mornings and evenings almost everyday until the end of July.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5238044655001531986" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/SLFF3IL_9lI/AAAAAAAADwo/tp4t9z6PXtE/s320/DSC06654.JPG" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;Woman walking through a field&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When it is rainy I usually go inside my house and read to wait for the storm to pass. Most Peace Corps Volunteers spend a lot of time reading during the rainy season.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1764511553228059150-198048268889206558?l=alexthegambia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/feeds/198048268889206558/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1764511553228059150&amp;postID=198048268889206558' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/198048268889206558'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/198048268889206558'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/2008/08/rain-rain-rain.html' title='Rain, Rain, Rain'/><author><name>Alex</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/SLFGALm41bI/AAAAAAAADww/iSBTTiwP-44/s72-c/IMG_9251.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1764511553228059150.post-1470787891636365115</id><published>2008-08-03T17:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-03T18:31:55.418-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Lolo's' views of life in village</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;A few highlights about what I (Alex's Mom) understand of life in village:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Alex’s family is from the Fula tribe, which are typically not so dark (even though his family seems very dark to me). They speak Pulaar and Wolof in the village. Alex was taught Pulaar, which is not as spoken as Wolof; he says he wants to learn Wolof (used for business) too. Folks speak many of the languages/dialects. African languages are not written, thus very hard to learn.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Families live in a compound, i.e., multiple houses or shacks – some are individual, some are long houses, with multiple single rooms. They are organized in a circle or square with room in the middle for the mingling.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Multiple family compounds make a village. Alex’s village has 7 compounds, thus, very small. They have only about 60-70 people. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Men and women don’t live together. Boys &gt;15 and men have their own “houses (or rooms)”. Women sleep with their children in one “house”. Women visit their men during the night; I don’t know the protocol among the wives. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Each house has one room, fairly small, sometimes with a separation to make it into 2 rooms. Their one piece of furniture is a double bed typically covered with pretty African cloths as bedspreads; they all have it. I think the clothes are kept in trunks; no tables nor chairs. Alex had 2 chairs for us.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;When we entered Alex's room, we were greeted by 4 frogs and 1 big gecko...  I guess they come in during the day time (since it is too hot out) and go out in the night.  I could hear rats scurrying in the roof in the middle of the night.  His roof is corrugated aluminum with rice bags and straw in the inside to break the heat, I believe.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Typically a family compound houses families of 2 brothers.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;They are muslims, thus polygamous (can have up to 4 wives). In Alex’s host family, his host father has 2 wives and his uncle also has 2 wives. Between the 4 women there are 24 children. So, there are kids galore, of all ages, mingling around and playing in the dirt&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Women cook, clean and take care of the kids. Men plant, buid houses and fences. Kids do all kind of chores. Women and boys fetch the water from the wells.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;There is no running water nor electricity.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Food is mostly rice or coos (i.e., millet) with some sauce and a small fish – for breakfast, lunch and dinner.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;They eat with their right hand out of common food bowls; the left hand is the “dirty” one used for cleaning their privates. Men have their own separately from the women and children. Alex eats with his host father (who has a separate bowl in his family) and they gave us our own food bowl (most times we actually had two big food bowls which gave us a problem since we were supposed to eat well to show we liked the food). I have to admit we did use spoons most of the time when we ate in Alex's room (except for Alex).&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;They do very little between 11am and 4 or 5 in the afternoon during the dry season; mostly lie in bed or sit under the mango trees in the shade – it is too hot. In the raining season (June through October) they plant and weed.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;In the late afternoon and evenings they sit outside, each family together, near the Dad’s shack; teen boys can sit by themselves in another location. Don’t know the schedule for cooking between wives but they prepare the food and bring the food bowls. Since there are no lights, the stars are bright; it felt like camping… beautiful. People sit together and sometimes chat. They either sit/lie on mats or benches until midnight or so (but I think they also sleep during this time since they get up early for prayers).&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;They cook in small stoves in the back of their houses, using wood for fuel; typically in a covered area. The backs of the houses have a little area which is fenced. There is where they cook and wash clothes and themselves; they use buckets or large basins.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I don’t know where they go to the bathroom; Alex says they are supposed to go on the fields. In Alex’s village there are 2 pit latrines: his and his Dad’s. His is in the back of his house, fenced. His Dad’s is a separate building. While I was there I never saw anyone peeing or pooping (a mistery).&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;They drink lots of ataya, a very sweet version of a green tea, which takes a long time to prepare. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;They chew a type of stick that is good for their teeth; they don’t go to the dentist and most seem to have good teeth.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;They sweep their rooms twice a day and, at the end of the day, they sweep/smoothen the area inside the compound. During the day the kids play around and the animals (goats, cows, chickens) roam free during the dry season; so they were all amongst us.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;So the compound is clean but the areas outside the compound have all kinds of trash. Apparently they have an area delineated for trash (which I think they burn once in a while) but keep in mind they don’t have much, thus very little trash. And they use/reuse a lot.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;When the wind picks up, there is sand/dust everywhere.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The kids are filthy because they play in the dirt but I think they are washed at night because I have seen many of them pretty clean except for the feet.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The girls have their hair in braids most of the time and the women wear the head turbants.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Women wear long skirts all the time but shirts are optional; since most of the women are feeding babies most of the time, exposed boobs are no big deal.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Greetings are very important in their culture. Every time they meet someone, they spend about 3-5 minutes in greetings (How are you? How is your family? How did you sleep? etc)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;They spit a lot; it is part of the culture.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The women and girls carry the young in their backs, with a piece of cloth that ties up front. They do their chores (carrying water in their heads or pounding coos) with the babies in their backs.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;They ask for things all the time (it drives Alex nuts), like food, candy, band aid, ataya, etc… and they ask each other too. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The school is in the next village; unfortunately, only 5 children from Alex’s village go to school. They feel there is no point since there are no jobs around.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Schools are taught in English; they also teach Arabic. Children wear uniforms and walk to school everyday; they provide lunch but the kids are supposed to pay a token fee for lunch, and also for the school year. Girls can go to school for free, if they choose to (order of the government). Their schools are not very good; they learn everything by recitation. Alex is now helping at the nearby school, teaching them math; he started math’atons to get their interest raised. The school buildings were built by NGOs (external help to Africa).&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;When we visited Alex's school, they put up a play about a Gambian wedding - lovely.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Many of the villages have mosques and they wake them up for prayers at 5:30am using loud speakers. Alex’s village didn’t have loud speakers.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;They have leaders, the village alkalo; Alex’s Dad is the alkalo of his village.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;They have community groups but mostly to discuss issues. There isn’t a sense of community to improve their life style or their villages. We found them very complacent, with no motivation for improvement. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Their knowledge of the world is almost none since they live so isolated. But things are changing. Alex’s oldest brother lives in the Kombo area and works as a manager for a hotel; so he left the village and now has a better understanding of the world; besides, he makes good money for Gambians. He brought a solar generator for the village and installed in the younger brother’s house. So they have some electricity and can charge all kinds of things, including boom boxes. They have an old black and white TV that the children watch 2 nights a week (powered by an old car battery); the problem is that the programs are either in French or English which is not spoken in village. So, they mostly watch the images; however, as they watch more TV, they will start learning the language and more about the world (then the culture will start to change, or at least the desires).&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Most of the older guys have cell phones, which operate with bought cards.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;There is dust everywhere due to the sand and wind around the area. Everything in the rooms have a coat of dust; it gets into everything. Alex is keeping his camera in Ziploc bags inside a trunk.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;They are extremely friendly. They love music and to dance, especially the women. They play drums with pots and pans, gather in a circle and they dance, one at a time. We had a chance to hear and dance with them. They also asked us to dance and Karina suggested the macarena, done by 4 PCVs, K and Lolo and the children also joined us - fun!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;They have so little that anything is of interest to the children, like a magazine, a toy, or candy. They are extremely curious. We brought some pictures and they just loved them.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;If someone goes out of the village, it is customary to bring some present back, whether a mango, kola nuts, or a vegetable.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Most of them are very good looking, with some women with beautiful features.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;They laugh a lot; they seem quite happy most of the time, especially the women.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Even though we couldn't talk to them due to the language barrier, they were very hospitable. We had heard that the gambians are a very hospitable people; any visitor gets food and board.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;We really enjoyed visiting Alex's host family and experiencing his day to day life in the Peace Corps. It will stay in our memories for a long, long time.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1764511553228059150-1470787891636365115?l=alexthegambia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/feeds/1470787891636365115/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1764511553228059150&amp;postID=1470787891636365115' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/1470787891636365115'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/1470787891636365115'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/2008/08/silvesters-views-of-life-in-village.html' title='Lolo&apos;s&apos; views of life in village'/><author><name>Alex</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1764511553228059150.post-6327579358352840253</id><published>2008-08-03T16:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-03T17:50:22.185-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Silvester family adventure in The Gambia</title><content type='html'>John, Karina and Lolo (Alex's immediate family) went to visit Alex in The Gambia in June 2008, just as the school year finished in the US. It isn't the best time to visit - probably the hotest time of the year - but we had no choice. We were anxious to see Alex and visit the country. We had read Alex's blog and the blog of other PCVs and had chatted with Alex on his cell phone quite a bit, so we sort of knew what to expect (well, most of the time). &lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;We had a great time but, we have to confess that &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;it was an adventure&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;, traveling by boat and "old" van (through good and horrible roads), seeing beautiful landscape along the river, watching birds (John counted 99 different species), seeing children galore  and very dry and desert-like conditions where Alex lives. We saw very poor living conditions but no one starving; in fact the gambians are beautiful people; we saw very tall men (taller than 6 feet) and women. There is one major town, a few small cities with electricity, but mostly villages with no electricity, and wells for water. It appears that most of the country has cell phone coverage, so it will be interested to see how they evolve as they get more communication and global news. Solar chargers are starting to get into use in many of the locations.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5230454879847981282" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/SJZPAEcMIOI/AAAAAAAADHk/WPfbKRiV7Cc/s400/GAMBIA+TRIP+MAP-final.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;We spent 13 days in The Gambia and traveled up river with Alex. Alex said other parents may want to travel there; thus, here was our itinerary:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;2 days in the Kombo area&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;One day going up river (car and boat)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;One night at Tendaba Lodge&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;One day again going up river (boat, car and boat)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;2 nights at Bird Safari camp&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;1 night at Chimpanzee project&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;3 nights at Alex's village&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;2 nights in Gunjur (south Gambia)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div&gt;We used a travel agency called Hidden Gambia; feel free to check out their site at &lt;a href="http://www.hiddengambia.com/"&gt;http://www.hiddengambia.com/&lt;/a&gt; for descriptions of the tours and nice pictures of the area.However we did try to take the bush taxi from Alex's village; another one of our adventures.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Adventure story:  We left the village in the dark (5:30am) and walked to the next village (bout 1 mile away), on the narrow trail, carrying our bags, to catch the gele-gele (bush taxi - a big van where you pay $1 per person for the 50 kilometers to the ferry crossing); our head-lamps and flashlights were put to use and the starry sky was beautiful.  Unfortunately, the gele came full and half of the people waiting for it jumped in (we don't know how they fit).  We sat on the sidewalk on their main square, and Alex said that, in the worst case, we would hire a donkey cart to take us to the main road where we could take another gele.   We had no idea how we would end up traveling; some said another gele would be coming in a "little" while.  About 20 minutes later, out of the blue, a very old car showed up and offered to take us for $2.5 per person... they know how to deal with tourists.  We believe one of the locals called this guy.  Well, the car made it and we got to the ferry safe and sound - another adventure.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you want to see pictures of our trip, go to &lt;a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/jasilvester"&gt;http://picasaweb.google.com/jasilvester&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Instead of boring you with too many details, we will just post some highlights.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Overall impression. The Gambia is a small country with very few resources (mostly peanuts, tourism and fish); you probably know that it follows the Gambia river. It is a very colorful country, the people are extremely friendly (with a few exceptions, described below), its Atlantic coast is beautiful and the river is long and totally unused (from our perspective). The difficulty is to identify their possibility of growth; apparently most of their youth want to go to Europe or America to seek a better life. Deforestation is another big problem; they went from 85% forest to 15% in the last decade; and of course the poor farmers in village do not understand the issues. The agfo PCVs (like Alex) are doing their best to help them but it is difficult when they don't really understand it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Highlights of our visit were the Chimpanzee Visitor Camp (described below) and Alex's village.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;“Badi Mayo, the Chimpanzee Visitor Camp &lt;a href="http://www.chimprehab.com/visitor_camp/"&gt;http://www.chimprehab.com/visitor_camp/&lt;/a&gt;) is located 270 Km up-river in the Gambia River National Park. It is managed by the Chimpanzee Rehabilitation Trust (CRT) - Africa's longest running and perhaps most successful project for rehabilitating chimpanzees to the wild. The project was founded by Stella Marsden whose father, Eddie Brewer, was a forestry officer and a keen conservationist. He later became the first director of the Wildlife Department in The Gambia and was responsible for establishing the Abuko Nature Reserve. For a long time completely off-limits to visitors, Stella has recently decided to offer chimp-watching trips to small groups of interested tourists, in an effort to safeguard the project's financial future. It’s a thrilling opportunity to view habituated chimps in a pristine natural environment.”   We paid $150 per person to stay there for one night (full board and boat rides), on a very fancy tent perched high up at tree level on wooded platforms overlooking the river.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The area was beautiful but it was extremely hot - it seemed we were in a sauna for 5 hours until late afternoon – that was no fun. The boat ride to the island in front to see the chimps, on the other hand, was great. No one steps on the island; from the boat, we fed one of the groups that had: a big guy, the Alpha leader, many ladies with their babies and other macho types and children (so cute). They fed them bread, beans and nuts. It was fun watching them. When they came by the shore, the boat was docked at a safe distance; one of their leaders pulled a couple of sticks (thick ones) from the trees and threw them at us – to show off his strength… They were pretty big branches… They also had baboons on the island that ate the leftovers of the chimps; they sat on the trees down river since a lot of food fell in the water while being thrown (and missed).&lt;br /&gt;Then the boat continued navigating on small water channels they call little Africa; very pretty. We even saw a barn owl. John took great pictures of birds along the trip.&lt;br /&gt;The food was great; the tents, perched on a hill, were beautiful but very hot. Definitely it wasn't the best time of the year to travel (we knew that) but it was a great experience.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;We will talk about the village in another post.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1764511553228059150-6327579358352840253?l=alexthegambia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/feeds/6327579358352840253/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1764511553228059150&amp;postID=6327579358352840253' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/6327579358352840253'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/6327579358352840253'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/2008/08/silvester-family-adventure-in-gambia.html' title='Silvester family adventure in The Gambia'/><author><name>Alex</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/SJZPAEcMIOI/AAAAAAAADHk/WPfbKRiV7Cc/s72-c/GAMBIA+TRIP+MAP-final.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1764511553228059150.post-355918474770555305</id><published>2008-06-13T03:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-17T20:25:33.360-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Family Visit</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I just arrived back from a trip to Spain. My parents spent 12 days  in The Gambia and then we went together for one week in Spain, a few days in Madrid and a few days in Barcelona. It was great to spend sometime with my parents and my sister and to take a break from Gambia.  Unfortunately I, the experienced Gambian, got bad diarrhea in the airport leaving for Spain. Just as I thought I would be able to eat whatever I wanted, I could not do it at first.   Luckily it only lasted two days, and for the rest of the week I treated myself to all sorts of food I had been missing such as steak (without bones), ice cream, and cheese. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5211348263478172658" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/SFJton13G_I/AAAAAAAACxI/g3W_tkM2OMY/s320/IMG_8943.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Eating "tapas"  in Barcelona&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;While in Gambia, my parents and my sister stayed a few days on the coast, traveled up river to Tendaba and Bird Safari Camp in Janjanbureh, and visited my village for 3 nights; they lived their Gambian adventure. While here, they saw first hand the good things and some of the frustrations and challenges Peace Corps volunteers have in the Gambia. I think they had a good time seeing where I live, but by the end, they were ready to leave. I invited them to do guest posts so I will let them explain their adventures such as taking pictures of beautiful birds, our 2 boat-2 car rides in the heat of the day, sitting in the shade dripping in sweat, and feeding the chimps (a once in a lifetime experience).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5211347798566084914" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/SFJtNj6LoTI/AAAAAAAACw4/r5_bnz-2K2s/s320/IMG_8743.JPG" border="0" /&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Feeding the Chimps&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we showed up at chimp island, one of them threw a big stick at the boat barely missing one of the guides to apparently show who was the boss. It was amazing watching the chimps smiling at us, holding out their hands, and catching food thrown at them (beans, bread and nuts). At one point, one chimp pushed another one in the water (again showing strength). When the wet one came out of the water, one of his brothers  gave him a hi five - like he was supporting him. It was amazing to see the similarities between them and humans.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Other highlights:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5211347273931653714" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/SFJsvBflglI/AAAAAAAACwg/tA_y2kz_gIo/s320/DSC06471.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;My mother dancing with one of my Gambian mothers at their naming ceremony&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5211347467521642082" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/SFJs6SrCTmI/AAAAAAAACwo/WzbmYOoNq4E/s320/DSC06579.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;Eating local food (bread with beans) and tea&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5211347626228130258" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/SFJtDh5nIdI/AAAAAAAACww/cmjVKBiPuGc/s320/IMG_7388.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;Teaching the kids the macarena - in village&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1764511553228059150-355918474770555305?l=alexthegambia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/feeds/355918474770555305/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1764511553228059150&amp;postID=355918474770555305' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/355918474770555305'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/355918474770555305'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/2008/06/family-visit.html' title='Family Visit'/><author><name>Alex</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/SFJton13G_I/AAAAAAAACxI/g3W_tkM2OMY/s72-c/IMG_8943.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1764511553228059150.post-5509306382343866065</id><published>2008-06-08T14:11:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-17T20:16:22.852-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Training</title><content type='html'>About a month ago, I had more training in Kombo, the capital area. We learned about a variety of project ideas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;I went beekeeping and harvested four hives in one night. I did not get stung, but I was covered in bees.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;I attempted to graft a mango tree. Luckily i did not cut my finger like others in my group. If done correctly we could make lemon, lime, and grapefruit tree or a mango tree with different varieties.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;I made a grass hive. The great advantage of those is that it does not cost anything and the materials can be collected in the bush. (Keep in mind villagers have basically no money so reusing raw materials is a must).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1764511553228059150-5509306382343866065?l=alexthegambia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/feeds/5509306382343866065/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1764511553228059150&amp;postID=5509306382343866065' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/5509306382343866065'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/5509306382343866065'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/2008/06/training.html' title='Training'/><author><name>Alex</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1764511553228059150.post-2949940112675567510</id><published>2008-06-08T08:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-17T20:21:19.541-07:00</updated><title type='text'>MANGOES</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/SFJpeHDxGhI/AAAAAAAACwY/jB5fe2qMPNs/s1600-h/IMG_8087.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5211343684832926226" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/SFJpeHDxGhI/AAAAAAAACwY/jB5fe2qMPNs/s320/IMG_8087.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;  &lt;div align="center"&gt;People say the best time in The Gambia is mango season which I recently experienced. Everywhere I look there are mangoes of different shapes, colors and sizes. I am told there are so many mangoes that most go to waste, but in my village that is not the case. When a mango falls, the kids burst off running because they go by the finders keepers rules. If they are too slow, a nearby cow may gobble it up instead. It is almost as if the kids have a sixth sense. They are off and running before my mind processes the thud. Therefore, I have never made it to a mango first, but the kids in my compound will give me some.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5211343183691440306" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/SFJpA8KU4LI/AAAAAAAACwI/AHfQ_liHEhI/s320/IMG_7363.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;They were posing for a picture when a mango dropped and off they went.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One night I was sitting in the middle of my compound with my family when I heard a thud and clang on the corrugate metal roof. The kids took off running. I had no idea what happened to make them run; then I realized a mango had fallen from the tree, bounced off the roof, and landed on the floor. Since they had no flashlight, they couldn't find it. A little later one of the elder sisters joined the hunt with a flashlight. Then someone found it; and ate it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5211343433586841522" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/SFJpPfGCF7I/AAAAAAAACwQ/Nvu4VLB8X8I/s320/IMG_8366.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At first I was nervous to eat mangoes because I used to have an allergic reaction to the mango skin. After a few weeks I decided to go for it; it was too tempting. Now I know why none go to waste in my village. They are really good. My record is five in one day and so far no allergic reactions.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1764511553228059150-2949940112675567510?l=alexthegambia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/feeds/2949940112675567510/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1764511553228059150&amp;postID=2949940112675567510' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/2949940112675567510'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/2949940112675567510'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/2008/06/mangoes.html' title='MANGOES'/><author><name>Alex</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/SFJpeHDxGhI/AAAAAAAACwY/jB5fe2qMPNs/s72-c/IMG_8087.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1764511553228059150.post-9083210783484158283</id><published>2008-04-29T09:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-03T20:05:44.310-07:00</updated><title type='text'>All Work and No Play</title><content type='html'>That is not really true. As peace corps volunteers technically we are always working in village, but we do have time to visit other volunteers, hang out, and have some fun. For Saint Patrick’s Day many of us in my environment group went up country to visit one volunteer at her house. We hung out for a couple days relaxing and sharing experiences about village. We all had been in village about four months and had gone through a lot. It was great to hear everyone’s different stories.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5194707207464328962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/SBdOrrUSnwI/AAAAAAAACi4/Bgn_ei82tQU/s320/DSC05919.JPG" border="0" /&gt;We decided to have bush pig, and we paid a local hunter to have the back half of a pig. We skinned it and smoked it over a fire. We were lucky to have with us an animal science major who is skilled in butchering meat. After we cooked it, the meat looked great. It was a golden brown and juicy on the inside. We were all excited to have some meat because meat is a rare occurrence in our families’ food bowls, but we should have known there was something wrong by the smell, slighlty rancid. We thought it was the fact that it was bush meat, but when we tried the meat it had a consistency of blue cheese. Only one section tasted okay. We decided not to risk it and threw most of the meat out. We are not sure what went wrong, but we learned not to let the meat sit overnight and cook it the next morning.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5194707894659096338" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/SBdPTrUSnxI/AAAAAAAACjA/a_V-1KBWhgg/s320/DSC05973.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We also learned about a rabbit breeding project for meat. The peace corp volunteer has tripled the amount of rabbits she has in four months. One cool thing she created was beer bottles and sardine cans for water bottles. They work really well and they are cheap.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5194709050005298994" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/SBdQW7USnzI/AAAAAAAACjQ/hD5LQ9BITVs/s320/DSC06033.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1764511553228059150-9083210783484158283?l=alexthegambia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/feeds/9083210783484158283/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1764511553228059150&amp;postID=9083210783484158283' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/9083210783484158283'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/9083210783484158283'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/2008/04/all-work-and-no-play.html' title='All Work and No Play'/><author><name>Alex</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/SBdOrrUSnwI/AAAAAAAACi4/Bgn_ei82tQU/s72-c/DSC05919.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1764511553228059150.post-2328346009422987361</id><published>2008-04-29T09:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-03T20:14:04.153-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Meetings, Meetings, Meetings</title><content type='html'>"Can you draw a map of the village?"  "We do not know how. "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What is good about the village?" No answer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"On what have you worked together on?" No answer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What are you proud of in the village?" No answer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What would make your life better?" Long pause…"A milling machine and garden."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"How will we build a garden?"  "We do not have the means to build a garden. "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is how one of the most discouraging meetings of my life went. I held a women’s meeting in my village through a translator. The women did not have answers for any of my questions. I could not believe they had nothing to say. I wanted to have a discussion about the village to learn what are their challenges and accomplishments so we could work together to improve the village, but they had little to say. When I told them I can provide knowledge and information but lack money to give them, they said "what is the point of having your knowledge and skills if there is no place to use them".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the women’s meeting I was depressed and it took me the rest of the afternoon to recover. The situation seemed so hopeless. I did not know what to do or how to make their lives better. After talking to some other volunteers, I realized analyzing ones life and looking at what is good and what is bad is something Americans do their whole lives. We are taught and grow up in a society that is constantly self evaluating itself. The women in my village who never went to school have probably never been to school or been asked questions like the ones I posed.  They live from day to day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I decided I would write a grant for a women’s garden. The grant would include money for barbed wire fencings and a well. The water table is about 36 meters which is extremely deep for The Gambia. After talking it over though, I decided against writing the grant because everyone kept asking me how do you know they really want a garden, will use it, and maintain the fence when it breaks. It was true I had no indicators they would. My village has no women’s group. When I tried to teach them about mud stoves, they were not interested in learning or making them. They only wanted me to build it for them which is one of the major problems because when the volunteer leaves, the projects fall apart because no one looks after them. I also talked to two volunteers who had women’s gardens put in their villages two years ago. One broke last year and the women keep saying they need to fix the fence, but so far no action (see Mark’s blog – he has a great story), and another village where they had a great garden. The fence broke. No one fixed it and the cows ate all the vegetables.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My next course of action was to bring it up with the men. Women in Gambian society do not make fence; men have the responsibility. I held a men’s meeting which went extremely well compared to the women’s meeting. One man drew a map of the village in the sand; mosque first. I hear Gambians usually do that because of the importance of religion in their lives. Roads next;  then compounds, and then trees. I found it interesting the emphasis place on drawing only three type of trees in village- mango, baobab, and bush mango trees (the only ones that produce fruit). I then asked the men the same questions as the women. They discussed and actually talked about topics. They said the fact the village had access to water and there is peace between villagers were good things. Later I realized I told the women the exact same thing. Gambians usually tell people what they want to hear. Therefore I do not know if the villagers truly believe what they said or were just trying to repeat what I told the women. What surprised me next was that they told me they wanted a garden for themselves. I became excited because now I had a reason to get the men to build a fence because they wanted it themselves. When I asked them about the VDC, village development committee, they had a big discussion about it and decided they should have a village meeting to discuss the members and the garden.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Three weeks later no word on the village meeting or about the VDC. In the meantime I found out who is the chairman and talked to him about building the fence out of local materials. He was all excited about it, and brought it up a second time to me. He said he could put his mango tree polypots there. He said he would talk to the village.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After another week I decided to call a meeting, so the women and men could tell each other what they wanted. I asked the women first, and there was no answer. I wanted to get up and shake one of them. They knew what they wanted, but would not say anything. Finally after repeating my question, they said "a garden". When I asked a rainy or dry season garden, they were stumped. They sort of discussed it, but mostly remained silent. I had to keep asking questions for them to decide what they wanted. Then the men said they wanted a garden. After a big discussion about complaining about the problems with a garden such as a low water table, chickens, termites, and birds, I pointed out the fact they have no fence. And their real problem is that without a fence they cannot have a garden. I told them they can build a garden out of local materials which they did not seem too excited about. In my opinion the villagers can build a fence out of local materials such as sesame stalks and wood, but they choose not too. When one man started saying the village could build it in a couple days (an exaggeration because it would probably take a week) everyone just laughed at him as if the idea was ridiculous. Later I asked who would organize work days. They said the VDC or village development council.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One night a few days later I asked my father, the alkaloo (the head of the village) about the VDC. He said they do not do anything. I asked who appointed them he said he did. When I asked him who was on it, he named the chairman and the secretary. When I asked for the rest of the members, he said he forgot. So the VDC is supposed to get people to work, but no one knows who is on the committee.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1764511553228059150-2328346009422987361?l=alexthegambia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/feeds/2328346009422987361/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1764511553228059150&amp;postID=2328346009422987361' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/2328346009422987361'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/2328346009422987361'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/2008/04/meetings-meetings-meetings.html' title='Meetings, Meetings, Meetings'/><author><name>Alex</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1764511553228059150.post-8011782885505078895</id><published>2008-03-11T03:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-05T18:51:32.279-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The end of the beginning</title><content type='html'>A couple of days ago was the end of my three month challenge. During the three month challenge we are supposed to stay in village for the whole time. I did not exactly do that because I traveled to the Kombo area a few times, for Christmas, and for taking money out of the bank. As for life in village, it is much better. The first couple of months were extremely difficult because I did not know how I fit into my community and my family. I could not speak to them, and I got flustered trying to respond to people asking me to buy attaya (a tea), sugar, bread, barbed wire, or anything else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the past few weeks I have started to feel more comfortable with my family. I will probably never be one of the them in the family because I will always be seen as the toubab (white person) who has money. And for the most part it is true, I have a lot more money than them and the dollar can go further here. I can buy a candy for a nickel and two pounds of potato for under a dollar. While I may never be part of the family, I can now feel accepted by the community and I am starting to feel that way. The women joke with me (a sign they like me), and the small kids will run up to grab my hand or hug my legs, which makes me feel more at home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first couple of months were hard and I questioned myself how I was going to live this way for two years, but now I do not question myself as much. I still have my bad days where I wonder if I am wasting my time here, but while I may not accomplish that much work project- wise, I am starting to see how the cultural exchange will be invaluable. I am learning how people think, view their lives and their challenges. In a sense it makes me appreciate America that much more. People here feel if they work harder there will be no economic reward for their extra effort. They lack motivation. It seems to a certain extent that people have accepted their fate. I have to admit it is sometimes difficult for me to see how they can improve their lives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My questions have now turned to how I can help these people and what is the best way to do it. Motivating them to work and believe that together they can make their lives better will be my biggest struggle. People are not taught to think critically or analyze what is good or bad. Therefore, I will try to get the people to look at their lives carefully and see how they can make it better. I will probably work more with people individually like how to do orchard and cashew planting, and beekeeping. Working with communities or groups is more difficult because organizing people in a group is extremely difficult, and communal ownership creates problems when something breaks. Usually it never gets fixed. I also need to figure out if I want to apply for grants and funding because while it can give the community a leg up, it does not necessarily help them in the long run. Many times the projects fail because people do not have a sense of ownership, and will wait for someone else like an NGO to fix it. Also when an NGO gives a community something such as a garden, it prevents the people from trying to analyze and solve problems on their own. My debate currently will be to figure out how to help them. I really want to help them help themselves.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1764511553228059150-8011782885505078895?l=alexthegambia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/feeds/8011782885505078895/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1764511553228059150&amp;postID=8011782885505078895' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/8011782885505078895'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/8011782885505078895'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/2008/03/end-of-beginning.html' title='The end of the beginning'/><author><name>Alex</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1764511553228059150.post-8063422435722152216</id><published>2008-03-10T11:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-11T04:05:12.257-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Views of my house</title><content type='html'>The entrance to my house. A fellow Peace Corps Volunteer is brewing attaya - Gambian tea&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5176190150751376034" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/R9WFhHlpUqI/AAAAAAAACJg/efb810K9mZ4/s320/IMG_7752.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The back of my house. If I go through my backdoor I will reach my garden.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/R9WGJ3lpUsI/AAAAAAAACJw/h-ZoL0IaFK0/s1600-h/IMG_7758.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5176190850831045314" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/R9WGJ3lpUsI/AAAAAAAACJw/h-ZoL0IaFK0/s320/IMG_7758.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My side window, water filter,and food supplies trunk. Unfortunately I have to keep the window closed becuase the dusty storms are terrible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/R9WFz3lpUrI/AAAAAAAACJo/yhZ-WFgAfP8/s1600-h/IMG_7757.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5176190472873923250" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/R9WFz3lpUrI/AAAAAAAACJo/yhZ-WFgAfP8/s320/IMG_7757.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me and my pit latrine. It is more difficult to squat than I expected. I have trouble balancing. Therefore I need a counterweight so I do not fall backwards. The top of the pit latrine works extremely well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5176195124323504914" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/R9WKCnlpUxI/AAAAAAAACKY/Dm8msPTeuU0/s320/IMG_7749.JPG" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/R9WHaHlpUvI/AAAAAAAACKI/DQMdw2xGGR4/s1600-h/IMG_7749.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5176195515165528866" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/R9WKZXlpUyI/AAAAAAAACKg/qFJ0A64rv6Y/s320/IMG_7777.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1764511553228059150-8063422435722152216?l=alexthegambia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/feeds/8063422435722152216/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1764511553228059150&amp;postID=8063422435722152216' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/8063422435722152216'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/8063422435722152216'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/2008/03/views-of-my-house.html' title='Views of my house'/><author><name>Alex</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/R9WFhHlpUqI/AAAAAAAACJg/efb810K9mZ4/s72-c/IMG_7752.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1764511553228059150.post-4778444422740334038</id><published>2008-03-10T04:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-06T17:27:10.678-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My favorite person</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/R9UVpnlpUgI/AAAAAAAACIM/iXu4x14itv8/s1600-h/IMG_8073.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5176067151477953026" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/R9UVpnlpUgI/AAAAAAAACIM/iXu4x14itv8/s400/IMG_8073.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Binta&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;In village my favorite person is probably my mother's youngest child, Binta. She is just learning how to walk and cannot talk except for the word mom in pulaar, Da. She likes to give me high fives and will come running up to me sometimes and grab my legs if I am sitting down.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5176067585269649938" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/R9UWC3lpUhI/AAAAAAAACIU/gZmoLOOwp7A/s400/IMG_7799.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Binta's first steps.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1764511553228059150-4778444422740334038?l=alexthegambia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/feeds/4778444422740334038/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1764511553228059150&amp;postID=4778444422740334038' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/4778444422740334038'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/4778444422740334038'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/2008/03/my-favorite-person.html' title='My favorite person'/><author><name>Alex</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/R9UVpnlpUgI/AAAAAAAACIM/iXu4x14itv8/s72-c/IMG_8073.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1764511553228059150.post-1024448641204504268</id><published>2008-03-10T03:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-06T17:05:39.647-07:00</updated><title type='text'>TV Dinners</title><content type='html'>In the States, one of my parents strictest rules was no TV during dinner. Who would have thought I would travel halfway accross the world to break it. Coming to Africa I never expected to watch TV, but my compound owns a TV, and my host brother owns a solar panel so he can charge the battery to run the TV.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5176062177905824162" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/R9URIHlpUaI/AAAAAAAACHc/XjpVTpSxXcg/s400/IMG_7817-1.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;Notice the TV in the middle of the picture with the battery sitting in front of it.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I have to say it is a surreal feeling when I realize I am watching TV in the open air in the middle of my family compound in Africa - on a 10/11 inch black and white screen. We only get one or two channels which most of the time are in english or french (the villagers do not understand either). We watch TV about 3 nights a week starting before dinner. Most of the village kids come to watch and sit around the TV on benches, stools, or rice bags.When dinner is ready we huddle around the food bowl with the TV in the background. No one watches while they eat, but meals in gambia are always quick, so afterwards everyone goes back to watching. I usually go to bed.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;The kids watch TV during the day sometimes and I think they can watch just as much as kids in America. One day I am positive they watched at least 6 hours during the day and then they pulled out the TV that night. One of the programs they watch is about animals from around the world, and they are amazed when dolphins jump out of the water or gorillas fight. Even the women peek in sometimes to watch a bit.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1764511553228059150-1024448641204504268?l=alexthegambia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/feeds/1024448641204504268/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1764511553228059150&amp;postID=1024448641204504268' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/1024448641204504268'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/1024448641204504268'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/2008/03/tv-dinners.html' title='TV Dinners'/><author><name>Alex</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/R9URIHlpUaI/AAAAAAAACHc/XjpVTpSxXcg/s72-c/IMG_7817-1.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1764511553228059150.post-8678522362043921882</id><published>2008-03-10T02:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-06T17:09:11.821-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Baby Alex</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;Ok not baby Alex, but Baby Pateh (my African name). Last week I had a baby named after me. In The Gambia every child is named after a family member or friend which could explain why there are so few names in The Gambia. Seven days after a baby is born, the parents hold a naming ceremony, a big party, for the child. People dress up, eat meat, and sometimes listen to music if the family has more money.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I showed up to one last week in the morning around 11am. I almost missed it because I thought the ceremony was the following day. After I sat around for an hour, the family decided everyone had shown up. I went into the room where a man shaves the baby's head. In this case he only shaved a little hair in the front and a little in the back ( it depends on the family, but some shave the whole head). Usually only women watch the baby's head being shaved. Then I went outside and sat with all the men on mats and chairs to pray for the baby. After prayers the father decided the name of the baby to be Pateh after me. Even though I have heard they sometimes name the baby after people with more money so they get presents, I was honored. The men passed out Kola nuts, a bitter nut which gambians like, and the prayers were over. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5176059712594595922" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/R9UO4nlpUFI/AAAAAAAACE0/KWvQQlc0wzk/s320/IMG_8007.JPG" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;Baby Pateh and his parents.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since the father picks the name of the child, the mother sometimes picks a separate name for the child. In that case the child has two names. My father is called Mamadou, his mother's name, which is used by my family, but in the next village people call him Habli, his father's name. Depending on the region of the country the mother's or father's name is preferred.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next everyone sat around drinking attaya and talking while the women cooked the meal. Right after prayers we were served coos and sour milk with sugar (which I now really like). I remember the first time I had sour milk in training village I almost vomited, but I have grown to like it. Sour milk is milk left to stand for at least a day. It is chunky and on the fourth day goes bad. In the evening we ate the main meal. Depending on the wealth of the family they kill a chicken, goat or ram. In this case they slaughtered a goat. The goat tasted really good since I never get meat in village. As it got dark I rode my bike home.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1764511553228059150-8678522362043921882?l=alexthegambia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/feeds/8678522362043921882/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1764511553228059150&amp;postID=8678522362043921882' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/8678522362043921882'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/8678522362043921882'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/2008/03/baby-alex.html' title='Baby Alex'/><author><name>Alex</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/R9UO4nlpUFI/AAAAAAAACE0/KWvQQlc0wzk/s72-c/IMG_8007.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1764511553228059150.post-8897216481984826170</id><published>2008-03-09T09:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-06T17:14:33.940-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Resurrecting a Library</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;Even though I am an environment volunter, many of us choose to work in the local schools especially during the first three months because teachers speak English, and we can work in the garden or help teach classes. I went to help at a school in the next village (my village has no school).  At first I went to help in the lower basic school (grades 1-6) because it was something different than sitting in my village all day long. There I have been learning more about Gambian culture and the local community through their teachers.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5176183012515729954" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/R9V_BnlpUiI/AAAAAAAACIg/Oq8hfiGxD0Y/s320/DSC05659.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One problem was that I did not really know what to do when I went. The garden master did not need encouragement because he has a great garden of carrots, green onions, eggplant, cabbage, and tomatoes. A few children are assigned to a bed and they are in charge of watering, weeding, and planting. The school sells the vegetables to earn a little extra income and puts the vegetables in the lunch food bowls. I suggested I could teach in the classrooms, which the headmaster said was good, but he did not give me any instruction as to what I should teach or which grades. He just said "go". The kids also do not speak english well. So far I have not taught a class, but I plan to in a couple of weeks, about deforestation in the Gambia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5176184283826049618" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/R9WALnlpUlI/AAAAAAAACI4/gpvuuaNgMrQ/s320/DSC05744.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After inquiring about their library I figured out what I wanted to do. Now my project and reason for going to the school is to resurrect the library. Their library was a big dusty cobweb room filled with books stacked on tables at one end of the room. The rest of the room was empty except for an old chalkboard with some numbers and a date from 2005. The room looked like it had not been used in months. I started by going through the books. Most of them are targeted for beginners which is good, and they had some basic math books which look promising. They also had two boxes of which on top were written "Geography Discard." The books are all written before 1975 and have titles such as Surveys for town and Country Planning and Intro to Geomorphology. I am sure a library in England decided they no longer wanted these books and decided to donate them, a worthy decision, but why the books ended up in a primary school in the Gambia I do not know. I asked the teacher in charge of the library about the books and he said they were important because the teachers could read them. Current volunteers said schools will always ask for more books because they can show off how many they have. It is a source of pride. The usefulness and how much they are used are usually not considered. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5176183489257099826" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/R9V_dXlpUjI/AAAAAAAACIo/2dswWiS8fZQ/s320/DSC05712.JPG" border="0" /&gt; &lt;div align="center"&gt;Inside the library&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The kids have an hour lunch break where they have the opportunity to go into the library. The librarian does not open the room unless I am there. I try to go twice a week. The other days he chooses not to open it. At first the kids were hesistant to come in, but by the second week a bunch of kids came. They look mostly at the pictures instead of reading, but some do read and at least they are exposed to the outside world of knights, planes, and exotic animals. Recently I have decided to work on math. I write problems on the board and the kids solve them. I realized the kids even in grade 5 and 6 still have trouble doing basic addition and subtraction problems. I have seen some interesting counting methods from drawing lines on the board to moving from their hands to their toes to counting on their chest and thighs. I think I want to work on math skills because if the kids stop school, the english they learn will be useless, but math they will use in their everyday lives. I want to start a math competition when I get back. I am hoping it will motivate the kids to study outside of class. As a reward I am going to let them draw with my crayons and markers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5176183819969581634" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/R9V_wnlpUkI/AAAAAAAACIw/j79DIUOb4OU/s320/DSC05717.JPG" border="0" /&gt;The room is extremely bare. I am going to try to brighten the room up by posting fliers on the walls including maps, pictures of the sun, moon, and earth, and other stuff that would expose the kids to the outside world and stimulate them to learn. Any ideas would be appreciated.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1764511553228059150-8897216481984826170?l=alexthegambia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/feeds/8897216481984826170/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1764511553228059150&amp;postID=8897216481984826170' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/8897216481984826170'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/8897216481984826170'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/2008/03/resurrecting-library.html' title='Resurrecting a Library'/><author><name>Alex</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/R9V_BnlpUiI/AAAAAAAACIg/Oq8hfiGxD0Y/s72-c/DSC05659.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1764511553228059150.post-4766407657093841767</id><published>2008-03-09T08:46:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-06T17:19:04.512-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Round 2</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/R9WDV3lpUoI/AAAAAAAACJQ/NsExbasWrsA/s1600-h/IMG_7792.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5176187758454592130" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/R9WDV3lpUoI/AAAAAAAACJQ/NsExbasWrsA/s320/IMG_7792.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Me in my garden &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;The first three months I have had little work to do. I decided to turn my backyard into a garden. Since a clay wall fell down in my small back yard years ago, the ground is extremely hard. When I arrived in village, I immediately went to work building a compost pit of grass, cow dung, and mango leaves. I then made a small garden bed planting cucumber, tomato&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/R9WC0HlpUnI/AAAAAAAACJI/mGQnKN_4LO8/s1600-h/IMG_7809.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5176187178634007154" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/R9WC0HlpUnI/AAAAAAAACJI/mGQnKN_4LO8/s320/IMG_7809.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;es, bell pepper, carrot, and eggplant. They germinated nicely and I was excited about the potential of giving vegetables to my family to show the benefits of gardening (currently nobody in village has a dry season garden). But I should not have jumped to conclusions because two weeks later, the birds attacked. They ate everything but three small cucumber plants which they continue to nibble on until today so the plants cannot grow. My family told me to put thorny branches and plastic bags, but to no avail, the birds kept coming.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Round 1: Birds win&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did not want to give up so soon because how can I convince the villagers to garden if I give up so easily. For round two, I decided I would try an onion bag to cover the bed. It would give the plants a chance to grow and I did not think the birds would eat older leaves. I planted carrots and transplanted some eggplants from the local school. I thought I had a good plan. I even planted some trees to transplant later into pots. Unfortunately it was not a fool pr&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/R9WDp3lpUpI/AAAAAAAACJY/uss8Y0-eHPA/s1600-h/IMG_8072.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5176188102051975826" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/R9WDp3lpUpI/AAAAAAAACJY/uss8Y0-eHPA/s320/IMG_8072.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;oof plan. As the carrots grew, they grew through the holes in the onion bag. The birds now sit on the onion bag and eat the leaves. I tried stringing cassete tape over the beds, but it did not help. At night the frogs dig around uprooting the carrots. One night I counted over 30 frogs in a bed 1.5m by 1m. Also, my eggplant attracted a small bug that caused them to get sick and even though I used a local pesticide made from tree leaves, it did not work. Also, about 1/3 of my tree seedlings would mysteriously die from morning to night. They were healthy when I woke up and by night they were all shriveled up. I suspect termites.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Round 2: Still undecided - Edge animals&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For round three I am planning to put a mosquito net over the beds to stop my biggest problem - the birds.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1764511553228059150-4766407657093841767?l=alexthegambia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/feeds/4766407657093841767/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1764511553228059150&amp;postID=4766407657093841767' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/4766407657093841767'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/4766407657093841767'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/2008/03/round-2.html' title='Round 2'/><author><name>Alex</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/R9WDV3lpUoI/AAAAAAAACJQ/NsExbasWrsA/s72-c/IMG_7792.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1764511553228059150.post-4021473863563934362</id><published>2008-03-09T07:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-06T17:24:33.359-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Election Results</title><content type='html'>No this is not a post about the American primaries even though I am following the race as much as I can from my small radio in village. The Gambia had area council elections, similar to state legislatures, about a month ago. For the most part it was uneventful with APRC (the ruling party since Jammeh took control in a coup in 1994. He has won three succesive presidential elections) winning 101 or 102 of the 114 seats throughout the country.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The day after the elections I asked someone how the elections went and he said:  "They went well. There was no trouble or fighting. " At first, I was surprised by his answer. I expected some excitement when his candidate won or sadness because his candidate lost. The thought of "fighting" due to an election was not the first issue to come to mind. In the States, I am never worried about the outcome leading to armed combat. I temporarily forgot how in most parts of Africa fighting is not only a possiblility, but many times a reality.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My district/ward was more interesting than most parts of the country. The current APRC candidate had an opposition candidate while most APRC candidates run without opposition. The opposition candidate lived in a neighboring village. However, his father, the village's alkaloo (the head of the village), was deposed. (The Alkaloo is a descendent of the founder. When he dies, the village usually meets to decide the successor, but it almost always remains in the family. The villagers can decide to vote out an alkaloo, but it is rare.). I am not sure by who, but a new alkaloo was appointed. The deposed alkaloo was told he could not be alkaloo if his son was running against an APRC candidate. The village is split in alegencies and the police are solving the matter. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5176186010402902626" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/R9WBwHlpUmI/AAAAAAAACJA/S3MUPJ60Zx0/s400/IMG_7795.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;My Mom's purple finger after she voted&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Most adults in my village voted. They are given a small rock to put in one of the two boxes. Each box has a picture and the name of each candidate because most people are illiterate. [sidenote: I started teaching my mom how to draw 1 to 10 and say them in english]. After they vote they put their left hand in purple ink.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1764511553228059150-4021473863563934362?l=alexthegambia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/feeds/4021473863563934362/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1764511553228059150&amp;postID=4021473863563934362' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/4021473863563934362'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/4021473863563934362'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/2008/03/election-results.html' title='Election Results'/><author><name>Alex</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/R9WBwHlpUmI/AAAAAAAACJA/S3MUPJ60Zx0/s72-c/IMG_7795.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1764511553228059150.post-8354873857107060910</id><published>2008-02-19T09:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-24T06:33:35.452-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Typical Day at the village</title><content type='html'>I guess there is not a typical day in the village, but my day usually goes somewhat like this.   (Keep in mind that we are getting to know the people and their customs in the first 3 months in village)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5:30-6:00am - Most people wake to the sound of the call to prayer, but my village is small so it has no loudspeakers and no one sings the prayer. Instead about three times a week, I usually wake to the sound of honking as the gele (the bush taxi) comes rolling through my village to pick up customers traveling to Barra (the ferry crossing to the capital).  When I travel to the capital, I take this gele.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7 am - Wake up and immediately go to the pump to fetch water to bathe. The water in the morning is slightly warmer than water left out over night. I also try to be the first or second one at the pump because I do not like cutting in front of the women to pump (In village, men do not wait in line at the pump).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7:15-8:30 am - I take a shower, water my garden, sweep, and make my bed. I also make something for breakfast because I am always hungry when I get up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8:30 am - Greet my family, and read on my front step.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9:30 am - Eat breakfast with my host father and a couple of his kids. My father gets a separate food bowl from the women and the men. Most of the kids eat with the women or the men, but a couple of the younger ones eat with my father.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10 am - 2 pm - I do not have a daily routine, but I usually do one of the following; a village walkaround where I walk around to each family compound greeting and chatting with the families (it is a great way to learn about people), help in the fields or construction (so far I have helped people make fences and build a house),  go to the school, or visit a nearby village.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2 : 30 pm - I eat lunch with my host father.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3:30 pm - I usually sit around with my family, play soccer, or read.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5:30 pm - The sun has started to set.  I take a bucket bath, work in my garden, and snack on something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7:00 pm - I usually go outside and sit on the bench in my compound. It gets dark around 7:30. Usually some of my family members are outside and I listen to them talk or I sit by myself if no one is out yet and watch people moving back and forth across the compound.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8:30pm - Dinner time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9:15 pm - After the women eat, I tell my family I am going to bed. I close my front door, brush my teeth and lay in bed. I usually read, write in my journal, or listen to the radio before I sleep.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1764511553228059150-8354873857107060910?l=alexthegambia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/feeds/8354873857107060910/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1764511553228059150&amp;postID=8354873857107060910' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/8354873857107060910'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/8354873857107060910'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/2008/02/typical-day.html' title='A Typical Day at the village'/><author><name>Alex</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1764511553228059150.post-5066486328780242963</id><published>2008-02-14T05:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-08T19:18:49.686-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Blessing and A Curse</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;Living in a small village with a host family has been a blessing and a curse. I would not trade this experience, but it has been difficult. I wrote this blog post a couple weeks ago, but time has given me some perspective. My old post was basically a rant of my frustrations. The past few weeks gave me time to gain a better understanding of the culture.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In village I am living with a host family, but I have been trying to figure out if they view me as a renter or as part of the family. I am sure it will change over time, but in the beginning I definitely felt as a renter. I have been told Gambians will never view me as one of them because I am white which automatically sets me apart as a rich man. Only time will tell how close I become with my family, but I think I am starting to feel more comfortable with them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another source of frustration comes from my family and villagers asking me for things such as a bandaids, my phone, a papaya, or attaya. It is difficult because at first I thought they targeted me because I am a toubab, a rich white person, but I have started to notice people ask each for things all the time. The difficult part is that I will always have money on my phone, bandaids, or medicine which most villagers will not. I cannot give it to one person without everyone asking me for it, so I have to say no, but in Gambian culture I cannot say no. I need to find an excuse to say no such as "I do not have" or joke back, but it is difficult for me to tell people I do not have it when I do. I always feel guilty afterward. If I leave the village, I can guarantee I will be asked by someone for money, bread, candy, or something else. I have grown accustomed to it because it no longer bothers me, but it is definitely an annoyance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At first I thought the men in the Gambia were lazy. People here are always saying the following: America is good, Gambia is bad;&lt;br /&gt;America is better than The Gambia; The Gambia has no money.&lt;br /&gt;What frustrated me is that I saw men not working, drinking attaya (People spend about an hour or two sitting, talking and brewing tea. They do this at all times of the day, after breakfast, afternoon, and night. I consider it Gambia's national past time) and complaining they had a lot of work such as fencing to make. I am starting to realize the men are not necessary lazy just unmotivated. I have heard men say if I went to America I would work hard and make a lot of money. They say in the Gambia I work hard, but I have nothing. My host father told me he use to cut wood to sell for firewood and to fix radios, but he does not have money to show from it. He now just farms. I think they do not see the benefit of working hard. It is something we take for granted in America. I assume if I work hard in America, I can make money; but I think most people in the Gambia do not feel the same way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So where does that leave me? After two months in village I am starting to feel comfortable with the villagers. My language knowledge is increasing and I am starting to understand better what people want (well, at least the small amount I can understand). I have set my boundaries high in village such as not letting kids in my house, only now eating with my family, and resisting giving my family presents. Current volunteers have told me not to give too much or the family will start to expect presents. And I guess I am also learning to come up with excuses...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1764511553228059150-5066486328780242963?l=alexthegambia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/feeds/5066486328780242963/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1764511553228059150&amp;postID=5066486328780242963' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/5066486328780242963'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/5066486328780242963'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/2008/02/blessing-and-curse.html' title='A Blessing and A Curse'/><author><name>Alex</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1764511553228059150.post-3018026134833395844</id><published>2008-01-20T14:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-26T19:36:07.099-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Job Description</title><content type='html'>Many people have asked what I will be doing in The Gambia for the next two years, and I have to say it is really up to me. The Gambia is experiencing extreme deforestation. In the 1960s about 50% of The Gambia was closed canopy forest. In the 80s, closed canopy forest decreased to 7%. I am sure the number has continued to fall. Fewer trees increase erosion of fertile topsoil to wind, salination due to over use of cropland, and desertification as the Sahel approaches from the north. A major reason for the drop in forest stems from a population boom. Higher population means people cut more wood for their homes, fences, and firewood. Even with recent government regulations attempting to stem the speed of deforestation, it has continued with great speed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As an Environment volunteer, it is my job to help gambians deal with their environmental problems and hopefully help them reverse them. I have great flexibility to pursue projects I am interested in and needed in my area. I am located near the Senegal border on the north bank of the river and it is one of the most deforested areas in the country. I constantly hear that I should plant more trees, but it is not easy. First, it is difficult to convince a farmer to plant trees when he sees no immediate monetary incentive. Any tree planted also must be protected from the goats, cattle, and sheep which adds labor. Goats and sheep are easy to raise and therefore a good source of income, but they are turned loose in the dry season. They eat everything that is green which includes new trees. Therefore trees must be protected which brings up the second problem in my area, fencing. Fencing is hard to come by. Local fences are made from wood, coos stalks, or local grasses, but they take a lot of work to make and wood is difficult to come by. Barbed wire is expensive and if not watched attentively goats can make gaps allowing them to get in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Project areas I am interested in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Planting trees. One way is to plant fruit trees. Many villagers are already interested in fruits trees. There are many mango and papaya trees found throughout the villages. I plan to encourage planting fruit trees and I want to introduce some other species such as guava, sweet sop, and lime which are more rare in the region. I also would like to start a woodlot to sell the wood for timber. I need to find the right motivated counterpart who is interested in the long term. Most people here think of the "here and now" and not what is best in the future. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Live Fencing. One solution to the lack of fences is planting trees and shrubs to act as a fence. Using plants with thorns or latex sap will hopefully create a thick impenetrable barrier. A solid fence without holes is difficult to create, but I want to try different combinations to see if they will work.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Gardening. None of the women in my village grow crops in the dry season. It could be a great way to increase the nutrition in their diets because they eat few vegetables. Villagers could also sell some veggies at the local market and make some money. Lack of fencing creates a problem, and chickens have been known to destroy gardens. Other pests such as birds and insects have devastated peoples' hard work. [Birds have eaten almost my entire vegetable garden.]&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;I am also interested in income generation. There are a few projects villagers can do and I am specifically interested in solar drying and beekeeping.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;The most difficult part of our job is finding the right person, what we call a counterpart. I think most men are not motivated around here, but there are a few people who work hard and are interested in trying new ideas. It is important to find these people, and they are the best to work with. My job for the next couple of months is to find the motivated 5% [as some people call it] who would be willing to work with me on projects. One thing I have been told over and over again is that nothing changes quickly, and it is easy to get frustrated. I am trying to take things slowly and see how and where I can help in my village and the surrounding communities.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1764511553228059150-3018026134833395844?l=alexthegambia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/feeds/3018026134833395844/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1764511553228059150&amp;postID=3018026134833395844' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/3018026134833395844'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/3018026134833395844'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/2008/01/job-description.html' title='Job Description'/><author><name>Alex</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1764511553228059150.post-9009034175317549670</id><published>2007-12-26T17:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-24T06:36:35.782-08:00</updated><title type='text'>What to send Alex, fyi [from his Mom]</title><content type='html'>[from Lolo, Alex's Mom]&lt;br /&gt;You all should know that Alex will not be on email until February or March now; he is on his 3 month challenge. But he has a cell phone and you can call him; call me or send me email if you need his number. Isn't technology now amazing??? No electricity, no running water, but phone coverage...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We spoke to him on Christmas eve and he sounded in great shape.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Many of you have asked what you can send him. As usual, Alex said he doesn't need anything. At this village he gets some fish and one vegetable (squash at the moment) besides the rice.&lt;br /&gt;He says he can buy most things there in the capital, since there is one Western market. But he needs to get there and they cost money, which he doesn't have much (and he wants to live like one of them).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When pressed, here is what he said are items that can be sent:&lt;br /&gt;- letters, of course; it will make his day. It takes about one month either way. They go to PC headquarters and they distribute once a month.&lt;br /&gt;- magazines (he has Newsweek and Economist subscriptions already)&lt;br /&gt;- books, especially books about Africa (history, novels, etc)&lt;br /&gt;- power bars or energy bars (they don't have those there)&lt;br /&gt;- individual oatmeal packages&lt;br /&gt;- trail mix (no chocolate because of the heat) and dried fruit are hard to find&lt;br /&gt;- meaty things: beef jerky preferred; canned tuna or chicken&lt;br /&gt;- nuts, canned fruits, canned beans, etc.&lt;br /&gt;In small cans since he has no refrigerator.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks for caring.&lt;br /&gt;cheers, Lolo&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1764511553228059150-9009034175317549670?l=alexthegambia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/feeds/9009034175317549670/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1764511553228059150&amp;postID=9009034175317549670' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/9009034175317549670'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/9009034175317549670'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/2007/12/what-to-send-alex-fyi-from-his-mom.html' title='What to send Alex, fyi [from his Mom]'/><author><name>Alex</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1764511553228059150.post-1786028925801047919</id><published>2007-12-26T00:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-26T15:38:32.640-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Typical Travel Day in The Gambia</title><content type='html'>[Note from Lolo: This is a partial post - Alex couldn't finish it before he had to go back to village. Since he is now on his 3-month village challenge, I don't expect he will be able to get access to the web to finish it until March... but I thought it was interesting - his description of his trip from his village to Banjul, the capital which is in the Kombo region]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am glad to finally have made it to the capital region for our Christmas gathering. My day began at 4:30 a.m., and I arrived at the Peace Corps dormitory at 3:30 p.m. What should have been a 3 to 4 hour journey turned into an 11 hour adventure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The trip into Kombo for Christmas started the night before, when my host brother called the Gele gele driver to let him know we, my two peace corps friends and I, were traveling the next day. One gele will pass by my village if the driver knows he has customers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4:30am:  We woke up; the driver is known to come as early as 5:00 and we had to be ready or he would leave without us. By 6, he was still not there, which was of no concern because there is no schedule. My host brother tried calling him, but his phone was turned off. At 7 I was worried, because I have never heard the gele pass by after 6:30. My host father called and found out he was not coming.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7am: We then walked 1.5 km to the next village where a morning gele leaves. After a 20min walk we arrive in village to find out we just missed the gele. The next gele would not come until early afternoon. We decided we did not want to wait because the geles usually have to wait to fill up or might not show up, and we did not want to risk losing a day of travel. We checked on a donkey cart to the main road from the village which is about 8 km. The driver wanted to charge us 400 Dalasis (22 Dalasis to the dollar) which we thought was outrageous. We decided to walk back to my village.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9am: Upon arriving back at my village, we decided we could walk to the main road where it would be easy to catch a gele (6km) or try and get someone in village to take us on a horse cart. Someone whom I knew offered to take us for 250 dalasis. We thought it was a lot of money, but we did not know the price and it was cheaper than the other guy. I figured the guy in village would give me a fair price becuase the village was small and we are not suppose to bargain with people in village. We decide to take the donkey cart, because we have bags and it would be far to walk. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9:40:  Finally left our village again on donkey cart.  Once we got to the main road, we stood by the edge of the road trying to wave down geles. We waited about 30 minutes to find a gele which was not full. After a 40 min ride, we arrived at the ferry terminal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12:30pm: We arrived in Banjul by ferry.  We walked about 15 minutes to the car park only to find there were mobs of people. Many people were coming home from the village after Tobaski. When the volkswagen buses pulled up people would mob the door making if difficult for the people trying to get off. It took us an hour of pushing and shoving to get in one of the cars, and we only made it because some gambians were friendly and basically pushed everyone out of the way to let us on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;close to 3pm: Rode by bus for about 25 min to the next car park to switch taxis, and take a new van to the Peace Corps residence. We treated ourselves to GamJuices, similar to flavored icies, but made with real fruit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3:35pm:  We finally made it!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1764511553228059150-1786028925801047919?l=alexthegambia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/feeds/1786028925801047919/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1764511553228059150&amp;postID=1786028925801047919' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/1786028925801047919'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/1786028925801047919'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/2007/12/typical-travel-day-in-gambia.html' title='A Typical Travel Day in The Gambia'/><author><name>Alex</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1764511553228059150.post-6865047714964281832</id><published>2007-12-25T01:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-26T07:59:52.547-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy holidays</title><content type='html'>Merry Christmas. I am back in Kombo for a couple days to celebrate the holidays. It does not feel like Christmas without the lights, decorations, and music, but we have a potluck dinner with turkey, mash potatoes, desserts, and secret santa tonight. It should be a good Christmas, and we watched Elf last night to get in the spirit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;A view of my village with some of the local kids.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5147833978790217762" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/R3DHurR6CCI/AAAAAAAAB2M/nRKGkOBDFC8/s320/IMG_7704.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I did not make the three months in village due to Christmas, but the two weeks in village have been a challenge. The first first three days were the roughest. At one point in the middle of the day, I layed down on my bed completely overwhelmed asking myself what am I doing here. Slowly I am started to feel more comfortable with my family. I still have difficult speaking to them and understanding what they are saying, but I am learning. I found a tutor at the local school, and I plan to start lessons with him when I go back. Some days are better than others, but everyday I try to find one good thing I did. If I am feeling down, I go for a walk in the fields, read, write in my journal, or text a friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In village I have a lot of time and not a lot to do. I still need to learn about the community and the people before I can begin any projects. I mostly sit outside teaching the kids the ABCs, reading, or listening to conversations (trying to understand them). I dug a garden bed in my backyard and planted vegetables, but otherwise I have not done any work. I visited some of the local villages and some of the peace corps volunteers near me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The village kids on Tobaski.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5147834137704007730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="212" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/R3DH37R6CDI/AAAAAAAAB2U/W_uGw8YRrdc/s320/IMG_7718.JPG" width="320" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So far my family is nice, and patient with me. Most of my conversations end up with either them or I laughing because we do not understand each other. Usually I say something that does not make sense or I cannot get a sense of what they are talking about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A couple days ago we had Tobaski which is a big muslim holiday. I think of it as their Christmas. Everyone dresses up in nice clothing and does make up. They kill a goat or sheep (meat other than fish in the food bowl is a rare treat) for the food bowl. At night the kids go around in groups and ask for salibo, kind of like Halloween. The villagers give the kids money with which they buy candy or biscuits.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;My two host moms and I inside my compound on Tobaski&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5147833669552572434" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/R3DHcrR6CBI/AAAAAAAAB2E/EdBYtvyO3Xs/s320/IMG_7714.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;from wikipedia:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Eid al-Adha (&lt;a title="Arabic language" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arabic_language"&gt;Arabic&lt;/a&gt;: عيد الأضحى ‘Īd al-’Aḍḥā) is a religious festival celebrated by &lt;a title="Islam" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Islam"&gt;Muslims&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a title="Druze" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Druze"&gt;Druze&lt;/a&gt; worldwide as a commemoration of &lt;a title="Ibrahim" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ibrahim"&gt;Ibrahim&lt;/a&gt;'s (&lt;a title="Abraham" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Abraham"&gt;Abraham&lt;/a&gt;'s) willingness to sacrifice his son, &lt;a title="Isaac" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Isaac"&gt;Isaac&lt;/a&gt;, under the order of &lt;a title="Allah" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Allah"&gt;Allah&lt;/a&gt;. It is one of two &lt;a title="Eid" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eid"&gt;Eid&lt;/a&gt; festivals celebrated by Muslims, whose basis comes from the Quran.&lt;a title="" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eid_ul-Adha#_note-0"&gt;[1]&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1764511553228059150-6865047714964281832?l=alexthegambia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/feeds/6865047714964281832/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1764511553228059150&amp;postID=6865047714964281832' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/6865047714964281832'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/6865047714964281832'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/2007/12/merry-christmas.html' title='Happy holidays'/><author><name>Alex</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/R3DHurR6CCI/AAAAAAAAB2M/nRKGkOBDFC8/s72-c/IMG_7704.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1764511553228059150.post-8289196551162347966</id><published>2007-12-06T22:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-06T23:27:59.747-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Kombo</title><content type='html'>My time in Kombo is coming to a end. Today is my swearing in ceremony where &lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/R1jsxuFh9fI/AAAAAAAABsA/KhZ6UKHrtJo/s1600-h/DSC05414.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5141119313572394482" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 189px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 130px" height="172" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/R1jsxuFh9fI/AAAAAAAABsA/KhZ6UKHrtJo/s200/DSC05414.jpg" width="230" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I become a real Peace Corps Volunteer. Every month or so I should come to Kombo to take money out of the bank, check e-mail, stock up on food, or hang out with other Peace Corps volunteers. We stay a short distance from the beach, and it is relaxing to go for a swim or walk along the sand. I am fortunate to be near a beach instead of a land locked country.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/R1jzJOFh9lI/AAAAAAAABs0/8X4mgu9GI5A/s1600-h/DSCN4651.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5141126314369087058" style="WIDTH: 192px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 124px" height="176" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/R1jzJOFh9lI/AAAAAAAABs0/8X4mgu9GI5A/s200/DSCN4651.jpg" width="266" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;To get from my site to Kombo or anywhere else in the country, I travel by gele-gele or bush taxi. They are these big vans where the drivers cram people tightly together. In a seat where they should fit four they put five. The geles are in two conditions; old and falling apa&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/R1jys-Fh9kI/AAAAAAAABss/xav6yItcGkA/s1600-h/DSC05341.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5141125829037782594" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 217px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 136px" height="169" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/R1jys-Fh9kI/AAAAAAAABss/xav6yItcGkA/s200/DSC05341.jpg" width="274" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;rt. Traveling back from my site I rode with another Peace Corps trainee. We bounced around on the road squished between people with our bags on our laps. I have to pay extra to put a bag on top, so I try to take a small enough bag to carry. The main north bank road is newly paved which is a miracle because most roads are in bad shape. Only a few roads are paved, but it is often smoother to drive next to the road than through the potholes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/R1jx0eFh9jI/AAAAAAAABsk/o1L2A7S-9Ok/s1600-h/DSC05341.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1764511553228059150-8289196551162347966?l=alexthegambia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/feeds/8289196551162347966/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1764511553228059150&amp;postID=8289196551162347966' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/8289196551162347966'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/8289196551162347966'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/2007/12/kombo.html' title='Kombo'/><author><name>Alex</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/R1jsxuFh9fI/AAAAAAAABsA/KhZ6UKHrtJo/s72-c/DSC05414.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1764511553228059150.post-2641416119889397638</id><published>2007-12-01T09:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-01T10:23:39.985-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Site Visit - First thoughts</title><content type='html'>I visited my new home for the next two years. The village is small with less than 100 people and 7 compounds. I have the second smallest village for a peace corp volunteer in The Gambia. I live in a compound with my host father and his brother. Each of them have two wives. There are a bunch of kids and it is extremely difficult to figure out which kids are part of my compound and which ones are part of others. Even my older host brother who speaks good english could not remember everyone when I made the family tree with him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The area is extremely deforested and even the village has few trees. The villagers do very little gardening, but a few have some casava plants ( a plant of which you eat the root, similar to a potato). The village has a lot of cattle, and one of my host brothers is a sheperd for my father's herd. Everyday they come through the center of town to fetch water from the open well. The water table is so low that they hook a donkey up to a rope. The small boys then run with the donkey away from the well to draw up the water. It is fasinating to watch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do not know most of what goes on in my town, but I have two years to find out. Within a short bike ride are a school and a few villages which are all included in my work area. There is a lot of flexibility as to where I can work. Once I familiarize myself with the area, I can decide where I want to work and what projects I would like to do. Possible projects include alley cropping, gardening, soap making, poultry, bee keeping, fruit drying, and much more. Currently I am interested in live fencing, woodlots, and grafting, but I will need to learn what the villagers want, and what I think is feasible. I will try to blend their interests' with my own.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am back in the Kombo area for the next week where we, the trainees, will visit government agencies, NGOs (non governmental organizations), and Gambian Associations such as the Beekeeper's Association to learn about the groups with which we can work and support. If I pass the language exam on monday, I can be sworn in on December 7th and become a Peace Corps Volunteer. I head to site on the 9th.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1764511553228059150-2641416119889397638?l=alexthegambia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/feeds/2641416119889397638/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1764511553228059150&amp;postID=2641416119889397638' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/2641416119889397638'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/2641416119889397638'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/2007/12/site-visit-first-thoughts.html' title='Site Visit - First thoughts'/><author><name>Alex</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1764511553228059150.post-8337621389010884921</id><published>2007-11-24T17:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-06T22:53:31.044-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Thanksgiving [11/22/07]</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;I finally have access to email and the internet for a couple of days...&lt;br /&gt;I am back in Kombo for Thanksgiving. All Peace Corps volunteers came to Kombo this year because today was t&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/R1jt0-Fh9gI/AAAAAAAABsI/sU_tDY2a9OY/s1600-h/DSCN4857.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5141120468918597122" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/R1jt0-Fh9gI/AAAAAAAABsI/sU_tDY2a9OY/s200/DSCN4857.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;he celebration of 40th Anniversary of Peace Corps The Gambia. The Peace Corps held Thanksgiving at the US Ambassador's House. Mashed potatoes and pumkin pie have never tasted so good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Saturday I leave to visit my permanent site for a few days. I am excited to finally see where I will be living for the next two years. Training is almost done. After site visit, I have a week left in Kombo and if I pass the language exam, I am sworn in as a peace corps "volunteer" (promoted from trainee).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been in The Gambia for two months, but it is amazing how quickly my perspective has changed. Around our dormitories here in Kombo, I was amazed at how nice the buildings looked. I remember when I first arrived, I thought the area looked a little run down and dirty. I also had a bag of fritos the other day. I like all chips except fritos for which I have a particular dislike, but they tasted great. We joke here that somethings are Gambian good. Items which normally taste bad are considered good.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1764511553228059150-8337621389010884921?l=alexthegambia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/feeds/8337621389010884921/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1764511553228059150&amp;postID=8337621389010884921' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/8337621389010884921'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/8337621389010884921'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/2007/11/thanksgiving-112207.html' title='Thanksgiving [11/22/07]'/><author><name>Alex</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/R1jt0-Fh9gI/AAAAAAAABsI/sU_tDY2a9OY/s72-c/DSCN4857.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1764511553228059150.post-9190695012529113074</id><published>2007-11-24T17:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-01T10:33:03.492-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Difficulties</title><content type='html'>Training is ending. Recently, we found out about our living/permanent sites; I will be placed on the North Bank of the river, near a town called Kuntair, close to the Senegal border. My village is a small Fula village and I will replace a current volunteer. I look forward to site visit where we go to our site for a few days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a short time left in training village. So far I have been really happy and adjusting well to the different culture. The language, though, has been the most difficult part. I am learning it, but I have been hesitant to use it. Some trainees in my village are really good at talking to villagers. I know the only way to get better is practice. We leave our training villages for Kombo on Thanksgiving. We will celebrate the holiday with all the Peace Corps volunteers in country.&lt;br /&gt;It is hard to believe training is almost done; time has flown by.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1764511553228059150-9190695012529113074?l=alexthegambia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/feeds/9190695012529113074/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1764511553228059150&amp;postID=9190695012529113074' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/9190695012529113074'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/9190695012529113074'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/2007/11/difficulties.html' title='Difficulties'/><author><name>Alex</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1764511553228059150.post-3993853296858786740</id><published>2007-11-24T17:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-01T10:39:00.030-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bumsters (Toubab Part 2)</title><content type='html'>I need to clarify Gambians usage of Toubab. Toubab means visitor or stranger but it is now used to describe a white person. Most African countries have a word with a similar meaning. It does not have a negative connotation. As a white person in Africa, I attract a lot of attention.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When all of us trainees travel in the Peace Corp small bus, people are always yelling Toubab as we pass. It is not in a derrogatory way; they are merely stating the fact we are passing by. Many people wave to us. Some kids get really excited and run following the bus. Sometimes the attention is not passive and we get hassled. Stopping in a market, people (mostly kids) ask for anything they can see with us, e.g., a bottle, a pen, a camera or candy. It can be annoying.&lt;br /&gt;A more intimidating form of harrassment comes from the &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Bumsters&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;. They, mostly men in their late teens/early 20s, hang around tourist locations and ferry terminals. At one ferry crossing they surrounded our group. They start by friendly asking your name; they slowly break the group apart. They do not understand personal space and stand really close to you. The women in our group had it the worst. The bumsters asked the girls for money, if they had a husband and if they wanted to get married. They do not take "no" for an answer, are very persistent and keep trying (Some tourist women apparently look for sex or a husband.).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kids and bumsters on the street can be a nuisance but there is a way to deal with them. We were taught and I found out it works well to ignore them and keep walking; they will eventually give up. Gambians also joke a lot. If someone asks for an item, I turn it around and ask them for something. Once this girl stayed by my side for 10 minutes asking for a donut; finally I asked for her shirt as a trade. She looked confused and walked away.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1764511553228059150-3993853296858786740?l=alexthegambia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/feeds/3993853296858786740/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1764511553228059150&amp;postID=3993853296858786740' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/3993853296858786740'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/3993853296858786740'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/2007/11/bumsters-toubab-part-2.html' title='Bumsters (Toubab Part 2)'/><author><name>Alex</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1764511553228059150.post-8293543794521000772</id><published>2007-11-24T17:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-01T10:41:08.392-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Food - Part 2</title><content type='html'>Last time I wrote about food, I complained. I still miss the type and variety we have at home but the food is starting to grow on me. The peanut sauce (they use over the rice) tastes good, and the green leaf sauce does not seem as bitter. While rice, and now coos (a cereal pounded into a fine grain) gets old quickly, I am starting to get used to it. When I become a "real" volunter and go to my definite site, meals will be flexible. I most likely will cook my own breakfast and maybe dinner. I will have time to go to the weekly markets to buy vegetables and fruit, and from time to time I can go to Kombo the capital area (where Banjul is located), to stock up on food from the western super markets. I believe I will be about 4 hours away from the capital area and I can get a 'bush taxi" to go there; it costs about $3 one way.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1764511553228059150-8293543794521000772?l=alexthegambia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/feeds/8293543794521000772/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1764511553228059150&amp;postID=8293543794521000772' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/8293543794521000772'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/8293543794521000772'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/2007/11/food-part-2.html' title='Food - Part 2'/><author><name>Alex</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1764511553228059150.post-5189759890893303298</id><published>2007-11-24T17:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-01T10:45:03.825-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Upcountry Field Trip</title><content type='html'>One day, all PC trainees went upcountry to Janjanbureh, formely known as Georgetown, to visit current volunteers at their sites. We saw volunteer projects such as rabbit breeding, sesame farming, poultry raising, gardening, and soap making. We learned about their successes, difficulties and failures; they explained that our projects are trial and error and what works in one place might not work somewhere else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The location of our hotel was excellent - on the river and covered by trees - but the facilities and buildings were run down. Tourists would probably find the facilities sud par, but the room was only $30 per night. I never thought that I would say this, but I missed my bucket bath. There was a real toilet but the shower was right over the toilet and had very little water, and the water was colder than my bucket bath when I leave it in the sun for a few hours. However one thing I did not miss was the pit latrine; toilets are much more confortable.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1764511553228059150-5189759890893303298?l=alexthegambia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/feeds/5189759890893303298/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1764511553228059150&amp;postID=5189759890893303298' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/5189759890893303298'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/5189759890893303298'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/2007/11/upcountry-field-trip.html' title='Upcountry Field Trip'/><author><name>Alex</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1764511553228059150.post-3504583102873126409</id><published>2007-11-24T12:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-01T10:48:45.602-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Offending a Village</title><content type='html'>I cut coos stalks for several days to build my garden fence. On the second day, three other trainees helped me cutting and we made a big pile. We decided to carry them on a (white checkered) bed sheet so we didn't get itchy from the stalks rubbing against our skin. We each carried one corner over our shoulder. When we entered town, everyone was staring or pointing; we figured they were laughing at us because four of us were carrying what one women would probably carry on her head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, on our third trip carrying the bundle, our trainer stopped us and told us we were offending the village. We were carrying the stalks in the same way as they carry their dead. Since no one had died, it could be a sign that someone would die soon. We felt bad, and not knowing the language made it more difficult because we could not explain ourselves. Thus, our trainer apologized for us but it did not make us feel any better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The village has had PC trainees for years and they understand we do not know their culture. So this event is a good learning opportunity because when we get to our actual site (where we will spend the 2 years) the villagers will be less familiar with whites' lack of knowledge about their customs. Making cultural mistakes there will not be as easy to explain. The Peace Corps train us but they cannot cover all areas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day a cow died that was borrowed from another village. It was a big deal because villagers keep their savings in herds of cattle, not banks. We wondered if the town would blame us for the death, but our trainer (who by the way is Gambian) said they would not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have committed a few other cultural taboos or mistakes since I have been here:&lt;br /&gt;o Rotating the food bowl, which is supposed to cause stomach ache;&lt;br /&gt;o Asking about buying salt at night (buying or borrowing salt, needles or soap at night is avoided. If someone needs salt from someone at night, they will just take it and pay the person the next day.);&lt;br /&gt;o Washing my face with my left hand. Some of the kids looked at me like I was crazy because the left hand is used to wipe.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1764511553228059150-3504583102873126409?l=alexthegambia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/feeds/3504583102873126409/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1764511553228059150&amp;postID=3504583102873126409' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/3504583102873126409'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/3504583102873126409'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/2007/11/offending-village.html' title='Offending a Village'/><author><name>Alex</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1764511553228059150.post-7890593104486522150</id><published>2007-11-24T12:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-01T10:52:15.112-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My First Project</title><content type='html'>While our main focus in training village is to learn the language, we have to make a garden bed for our families. The project is more for our practice but it gives the family vegetables, if they choose to continue watering.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most Fulas do not garden especially in the dry season because it involves extra work such as watering. My family's garden was covered chest high in weeds with a small pepper section. My host brother told me my mother threw seeds but did not weed. He said Fulas are lazy and do not want to garden since they are known as cattle herders. Mandinkas and Wolofs (other tribes) generally have good gardens.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My host brothers helped me cut the weeds and dig the bed but the fence was a problem. Two sides of the garden had gaps between the posts. The dry season has started and the animals (goats, sheep and cattle) are turned loose. Thus I cut coos stalks (similar to corn stalks) to fill the holes. I had my host brother help me to involve him so that the family would hopefully view the project not as a "Toubab" (white people) project , but theirs instead. &lt;em&gt;If they feel ownership&lt;/em&gt;, they hopefully will continue watering the garden. I need to use this strategy with all projects because many projects fail when the projects are viewed as a "toubab" project, and the volunteer leaves.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1764511553228059150-7890593104486522150?l=alexthegambia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/feeds/7890593104486522150/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1764511553228059150&amp;postID=7890593104486522150' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/7890593104486522150'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/7890593104486522150'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/2007/11/my-first-project.html' title='My First Project'/><author><name>Alex</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1764511553228059150.post-5854283090299244043</id><published>2007-11-24T12:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-24T12:17:34.288-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Family Roles in Gambia</title><content type='html'>Since my family is big and confusing and I don't know the language, it is difficult to understand the dynamics of their behavior but there is a clear separation between male and female roles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Men.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;  They are the head of the household, and expected to provide for the wife and kids.  They make the decisions and have control over most of the money.  They work in the fields and grow cash crops such as peanuts (groundnuts).  They also do all the "hard labor" work such as constructions, fencing, land clearing, and road repair, and they also care for the cattle (Remember, I live with the Fula people, the cattle herders).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Women&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;.  Many claim the women work much harder than the men.  They run the house; they sweep, cook, clean, collect firewood, fetch water and care for the kids.  They work in the rice fiedlds, collect leaves for sauces, and garden.  Women keep their own money if they make any selling vegetables, bananas or doing small jobs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Small Boys&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;.  They are the messengers or errand runners.  They get things for their parents or family friends such as water, firewood, leaves or coos.  They "do whatever they are told".  They also are a big help to Peace Corps volunteers because they are full of enthusiasm and ready to help with any project.&lt;br /&gt;Here kids do what they are told.  When told by a parent to stop doing something,  they stop immediately.  This probably comes from the fact that parents hit or beat their kids.  Western thought is making beatings less common, but I hear it still occurs.  My village has many young kids and babies.  I expected to hear them cry more often, but it is rare to hear a kid cry; parents do not baby them.  Older kids, even slightly older, have authority over younger ones.  When an older kid says stop, they younger ones will listen.  There is a hierarchy by age.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1764511553228059150-5854283090299244043?l=alexthegambia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/feeds/5854283090299244043/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1764511553228059150&amp;postID=5854283090299244043' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/5854283090299244043'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/5854283090299244043'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/2007/11/family-roles-in-gambia.html' title='Family Roles in Gambia'/><author><name>Alex</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1764511553228059150.post-2941655866770154291</id><published>2007-11-24T11:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-24T12:03:29.554-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Nightime</title><content type='html'>It seems Gambians sleep little.  My village has no electricity; candles, flashlights and moon light are their sources of light.  I expected people to go to sleep when it gets dark but that is not the case.  At night, my family sits in front of their compound on mats or small wooden benches; they use a flashlight to eat, make attaya (a sugary tea) or to find something.  Otherwise they sit and talk in the dark.  I usually go to bed shortly after dinner, around 9:30pm.  My family says I go to bed early but I get tired from the heat and the day.  I am not sure when they go to bed but I have woken up to talking around midnight.&lt;br /&gt;In the morning, they are up before me.  I usually wake to the sound of pounding (Women pound for almost every meal.)  The villagers (mostly Muslims) also wake to pray between 5 and 6am.  My village has a small mosque without a speaker system.  A trainer in the next village lives next to the mosque and she wakes to the call of prayer every morning.  Even though our mosque is quiet, there are plenty of other noises from goats, dogs, donkeys and roosters, which make it difficult to sleep soundly.  I am glad I am a deep sleeper who can fall back asleep easily; some have trouble sleeping.  Apparently, there is nothing compared to donkey mating season; I will wait to see if I can sleep through that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1764511553228059150-2941655866770154291?l=alexthegambia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/feeds/2941655866770154291/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1764511553228059150&amp;postID=2941655866770154291' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/2941655866770154291'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/2941655866770154291'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/2007/11/nightime.html' title='Nightime'/><author><name>Alex</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1764511553228059150.post-8255794381900898432</id><published>2007-11-24T07:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-24T12:19:12.576-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Daily Routine in Village</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;6:30-8am&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;: At 6:30am it is bright enought to see and I want to do as much as I can because it is the coolest part of the day. I first go outside and greet my family in the compound. Greetings are extremely important, not greeting is rude. I then sweep my little house because dust gets everywhere. I then take my shower/bucket bath after fetching water; then organize my things, eat breakfast, and water my garden. Right before 8am I head to class making sure to greet everyone along the way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;8-12pm&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;: All os us trainees in village (5) gather under the mango tree to have language class with our LCH instructor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;12-1:30pm&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;: We are supposed to practice language skills with our families and the community but our language is not good enough. We usually talk a little but we mostly listen to our host families talk amongst themselves without understanding much. We are starting to understand a word here and there and sometimes we can formulate an answer. It is hard!!! Hopefully we will get good enough soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;1:30-2:30&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;: Lunch time. Our families provide us breakfast and dinner (rice or coos) but the Peace Corps provides lunch. They bring vegetables and meat and a villager cooks for us because veggies and meat are not usually part of the families' food bowl.&lt;br /&gt;[12-4 is the hottest part of the day. Most people do not work and they usually sit in the shade.]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;2:30-6pm&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;. Free time. We usually work in our language manuals until 4pm. As it starts to cool off, people start to work. We work in our gardens, fix fences, plant seeds or walk through the fields.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;6:00-7pm&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;: The sun sets. Thus, I try to do many things before it gets dark; I take a bucket shower which feels great because the cool water washes away the dirt and sweat. If I can't do it in the light of the day, I either cast my shadow against the fence (putting on a show for my neighbors) or I cannot find the soap and shampoo in the pitch black.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;7:00-9pm&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;: I sit with my family outside in the dark and eat dinner (around 8pm) out of a communal food bowl (men separate from women).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;9:00-10pm&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;: I go into my house, brush my teeth, sometimes write in my journal and got to bed.&lt;br /&gt;That is my daily life in an African village in The Gambia!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1764511553228059150-8255794381900898432?l=alexthegambia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/feeds/8255794381900898432/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1764511553228059150&amp;postID=8255794381900898432' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/8255794381900898432'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/8255794381900898432'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/2007/11/daily-routine-in-village.html' title='Daily Routine in Village'/><author><name>Alex</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1764511553228059150.post-4967619019037549790</id><published>2007-11-24T07:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-24T17:47:19.412-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Why am I here?</title><content type='html'>[Note:  the next 10 posts were uploaded by Lolo, who received them in a letter from Alex.]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I joined the Peace Corps, most people asked me why. My reasons have changed over time, but it is difficult to pinpoint one reason. In village, we had a discussion about our reasons for being here. The "cross cultural experience" interested one girl; she wanted to live in a different country learning about their culture while sharing hers. She wants to have a good time and help people in the process but she is most excited about the experience. For another volunteer, the job is "inspiring". He believes Gambians can farm today happily but they are degrading their soil and resources. He wants to help Gambians farm more sustainably to maintain and hopefully improve their standard of living.&lt;br /&gt;My reason to be here is a little of both. I want to help them improve their environment but I feel my greatest impact comes from the cross cultural exchange and the ability to share my experience with you all and when I get back to the States.&lt;br /&gt;The conversation began when one trainee in the village became disilllusioned. He thought he joined the Peace Corps to help, almost to save the people, since they lived in poverty. But he found people here, even though they have very little, to be happier than most people in the States. Even though they work hard, they smile and joke constantly, and they do not joke as a defense mechanism or front. The villagers are genuinely happy with their current lives. Motivating people to change is one of the greatest challenges as a Peace Corps Volunteer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1764511553228059150-4967619019037549790?l=alexthegambia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/feeds/4967619019037549790/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1764511553228059150&amp;postID=4967619019037549790' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/4967619019037549790'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/4967619019037549790'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/2007/11/why-am-i-here.html' title='Why am I here?'/><author><name>Alex</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1764511553228059150.post-995269074216010761</id><published>2007-11-02T15:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-02T16:17:55.815-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What I miss the most?</title><content type='html'>AMERICAN FOOD!!!&lt;br /&gt;I know most people claim America does not have typical food except hamburgers and hot dogs but I miss food from home. Fruits, uncooked vegetables, pasta, Mexican food and salads would taste unbelievable right now. The food here has little variety and is based on rice or coos. For breakfast it is either rice, oatmeal or sour milk; for lunch and dinner is rice with some sort of sauce (either peanut, green leaf or tomato). Sometimes there is meat like beef or fish, but the fish is so small it is all bones and the few vegetables placed in the food bowl are extremely overcooked. Food is eaten out of a communal bowl with a person's right hand. Some people are starting to use spoons but is is uncommon. Men and women tend to eat separate out of different bowls and food is never wasted; someone will eat it or it can be eaten for breakfast the next day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1764511553228059150-995269074216010761?l=alexthegambia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/feeds/995269074216010761/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1764511553228059150&amp;postID=995269074216010761' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/995269074216010761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/995269074216010761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/2007/11/what-i-miss-most.html' title='What I miss the most?'/><author><name>Alex</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1764511553228059150.post-6551642942750908986</id><published>2007-11-02T15:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-04T15:35:13.758-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Toubab</title><content type='html'>When traveling in most African countries, the locals call white folks "Toubab", or a variation of it (probably corresponding to the word "gringo"). I was first toubabed in the capital area walking down the street with some other PC trainees. It is usually the kids that say it. At first I thought current volunteers were exaggerating how often people say it, but today we went to a weekly market and it seemed that all people could say was Toubab. Everywhere I went people kept saying it. Since I will be here for two years, I will probably get used to it. I heard though that, when one learns the language and can speak to the kids, they stop doing it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The kids and adults will ask us (the Toubabs) for things like candy, pens, bottles or just anything else. This cycle is reinforced with tourists who throw them those things plus stickers, coins, etc, out of the windows when they travel up country.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone who came to Africa as a PC said the toughest thing is not to be able to blend in due to the difference in skin color.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[From toubab.com: A toubab is the generic name for a white person in West and Central Africa... it is not a derogatory term of address and is more especially used in the Gambia and Senegal. Depending on which you wish to believe... the name Toubab has many suggested derivations, amongst which are: A corruption of the Arab word Tabib meaning doctor.. a verb in the Wolof language manging "to convert" (the early doctors and missionaries during colonial times, being whites coming from Europe) or the generally preferred... that it is derived from the two bob (two shilling) coin of pre-decimalisation UK currency when the Gambia was a British Colony.]&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1764511553228059150-6551642942750908986?l=alexthegambia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/feeds/6551642942750908986/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1764511553228059150&amp;postID=6551642942750908986' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/6551642942750908986'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/6551642942750908986'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/2007/11/toubab.html' title='Toubab'/><author><name>Alex</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1764511553228059150.post-7085997317098313120</id><published>2007-11-02T15:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-02T15:34:28.906-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Getting Technical Skills (a break from village)</title><content type='html'>Every couple of weeks during the 9 week training we will travel to a tourist hotel camp that has electricity, flush toilets, showers and soda (coke and fanta), where we meet again the other trainees from the other villages - 24 of us.   It is only 12 kms for us but it takes 30-40 minutes due to the poor road condition.  It is a time to take a break from village life and swap stories and experiences.  The best story was told by a guy who missed the lesson about village skills back in the capital.  He could not figure out why other vonlunteers had left over "clean" water from taking a bucket bath.  It turned out that instead of scooping the water in a cup and pouring it on him, he was standing in the bucket and letting the soapy water fall back in the bucket.  I still cannot figure out how he could get both of his feet in the bucket; it must have been very unconfortable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This meeting happened to us the week of October 15 and we stayed in the lodge hotel for 4 days. There we learned about health and the main component was the technical skill workshops.  Since we are "environment" volunteers, we have done garden bed preparation, soil mixture, composting and tree grafting.  We also planted seeds so when we return back to the hotel in two weeks we can follow the vegetables progress.  It will be important when we go to site to have an understanding of local flora, fauna and crops.  It will give us credibility when we work with farmers and villagers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We also had our first language test.  We will be graded low/mid/high in 3 categories:  novice, intermediate and advanced.  I received a novice high, not bad after 2 weeks in training (language is mostly what is taught at the village).  To swear in as a volunteer, a trainee needs to reach intermediate mid.   Language is my biggest frustration at the moment because I cannot communicate to most of my host family members or other villagers.  My host brother speaks English pretty well, though, and explains a lot about village life.  It would be ever more difficult if I did not have him.  Hopefully I will be able to understand the language and communicate better soon.  I know it will take time and patience, but it is frustrating when I sit next to someone and all I can say are the greetings.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1764511553228059150-7085997317098313120?l=alexthegambia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/feeds/7085997317098313120/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1764511553228059150&amp;postID=7085997317098313120' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/7085997317098313120'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/7085997317098313120'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/2007/11/getting-technical-skills-break-from.html' title='Getting Technical Skills (a break from village)'/><author><name>Alex</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1764511553228059150.post-2929153178490523451</id><published>2007-11-02T15:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-12-06T22:34:50.006-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Naming ceremony - Pate Jawo</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/R1jo_-Fh9dI/AAAAAAAABrw/l20KXmjzT1g/s1600-h/DSCN4586.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5141115160339019218" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/R1jo_-Fh9dI/AAAAAAAABrw/l20KXmjzT1g/s200/DSCN4586.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;After three days in the training village, the five PC volunteers (including myself) living in that village had our naming ceremony. We received our Gambian names; I am now called Pate Jawo. Naming ceremonies are big in Gambian culture. Within a week after a baby is born, they do the ceremony. Family and friends get together to celebrate the event. The family chooses the name and shaves the baby's head. The family says prayers and everyone begins to party.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Family is extremely important to Gambians and one's extended family will live in the same compound (group of huts/houses). Gambian families are hard to understand due to polygamous marriages, early death of parents and care of dead relative's children. In my family, the Jawo family, we have both of my grandfathers's wives, my father's brother's wife and their kids and the grandchildren of one of my grandmother's families, before she became my grandfather's wife. If it sounds confusing, it is. There is also the fact that Gambians consider their father's brothers' kids and mother's sisters' kids their own siblings (brothers and sisters). Divorce occurs here too, which I didn't expect; when it happens, the first wife usually cannot tolerate the second wife. So I have this big family and I am not too sure who is who.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1764511553228059150-2929153178490523451?l=alexthegambia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/feeds/2929153178490523451/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1764511553228059150&amp;postID=2929153178490523451' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/2929153178490523451'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/2929153178490523451'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/2007/11/naming-ceremony-pate-jawo.html' title='Naming ceremony - Pate Jawo'/><author><name>Alex</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/R1jo_-Fh9dI/AAAAAAAABrw/l20KXmjzT1g/s72-c/DSCN4586.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1764511553228059150.post-1414343463789991090</id><published>2007-11-02T14:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-02T15:58:17.306-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Reality Sets In - Training Village</title><content type='html'>I am staying in one of the handful of villages used by the Peace Corps for training. I am glad my village was not the first one when we came from Banjul because the change was abrupt. When we arrived at the first village by bus, many of us did not even realize we had arrived at a training place; the sign was small and it looked like any other small village we had passed by. The driver announced the village and the trainees living in that village got off. Right away they were swarmed by kids and we took off to the next village. Knowing what had happened allowed us to mentally prepare for our turn, because all we were told beforehand was that our LCH (trainer) would meet us in the village.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I stepped off the bus at my training village, I had my African moment as I saw kids running toward me with the sight of the small village behind them. It was then that it really struck me that I was in Africa... the thatched and corrugated metal roofed huts, the fields of crops, the goats, sheep and chickens roaming freely made me realize the experience had begun!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My village is the smallest training village with a population of 100 to 200 people. Therefore it took us less than 5 minutes to reach the center of town. Before we even noticed, we all had a child holding our hand and walking by our side. In front of us was a big tree with a flat cement platform; under it many women and children were lying and sitting - they were our new Moms but we didn't know that. We were not sure what to do for a minute but then we saw our trainer. She took us to sit under the tree with the women; they tried speaking to us. All we could understand was the greetings. We sat there and tried to say the couple of lines in Pulaar we knew. After that, we were introduced to our "host" mother and family. They showed us to our house and we set about doing the basic things such as sweeping and hanging up our mosquito net.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Each volunteer gets their own house/hut. Some look more like huts while others are a type of apartment for the PC trainee in the same structure as other people in the family. They resemble a room or an apartment but the Gambians call them houses. I live in one of these apartment/houses, which is about half of my bedroom at home, divided into 2 little rooms. Because we are PC trainees we have screens on the doors and windows and a cement floor. This is not the case for Gambians; no one has screens but many have cement floors (at least in my village). We also have a small backyard that has a separation that divides our pit latrine from the rest. I am lucky that my walls there (made of wood and dried reeds) are tall enought that I can stand on my pit latrine cover when I take a bucket bath. Some people have to squat or crouch to take their bath. It has been difficult learning to aim while squatting and taking a bucket shower but with time it has become easier.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1764511553228059150-1414343463789991090?l=alexthegambia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/feeds/1414343463789991090/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1764511553228059150&amp;postID=1414343463789991090' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/1414343463789991090'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/1414343463789991090'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/2007/11/reality-sets-in-training-village.html' title='Reality Sets In - Training Village'/><author><name>Alex</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1764511553228059150.post-6485247119432014273</id><published>2007-11-02T14:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-02T15:57:42.815-07:00</updated><title type='text'>New posts from Alex that came via letter</title><content type='html'>As you know, Alex will not have access to email/web until first week of December, when he finishes his training. At that time, he will mail us a CD with the pictures he takes and we will post them.&lt;br /&gt;The next 5 posts came from Alex via "slug" mail and I posted them. Actually, the letter took 1 week from him to the post office in Banjul (the capital), then 1 week from Banjul to Los Angeles. So it appears that the minimum time is 2 weeks, from the village - but the letter did arrive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is expensive to send things to Gambia but letters are the normal international stamp price and the post office in America has flat rate boxes and envelopes for books/magazines - fyi. [from Lolo]&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1764511553228059150-6485247119432014273?l=alexthegambia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/feeds/6485247119432014273/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1764511553228059150&amp;postID=6485247119432014273' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/6485247119432014273'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/6485247119432014273'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/2007/11/new-posts-from-alex-that-came-via.html' title='New posts from Alex that came via letter'/><author><name>Alex</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1764511553228059150.post-3434725170507562156</id><published>2007-10-20T19:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-02T15:57:20.208-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Latest news 10/20 - by Lolo (Alex's Mom)</title><content type='html'>Hello friends and family,&lt;br /&gt;I spoke with Alex this week. If you recall, 2 weeks ago he went to a training village. After 10 days in the same training village as 4 other Peace Corps, living with in a family compound on his own, he went for a meeting with all 24 new volunteers in a tourist lodge by the river (for the tourists that go up river to bird watch). If you want to know the name of place of the lodge, send me an email. Apparently 100-150 people live there and it is a place for tourists that go up river. It has electricity and running water - wow!!! He could take a real shower... after 10 days. But no internet. And there was phone coverage; so we spoke with him 2 days in a roll... The lodge was similar but not as fancy as the lodge we stayed at in the Amazon... They stay at this lodge for 4 days, then go back to the training village. He will come back to this lodge on Nov 5 for another few days meeting with all 24 PC Volunteers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Latest News:- He seems to be doing well, slowly adjusting.&lt;br /&gt;- He is at his training village, close to Kiang National Park (you can check "Kiang Gambia" on Google Earth), where he will stay for 9 weeks, with breaks at a tourist lodge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- At his training village, he is has his own quarters with 2 very small rooms (1/4 of his bedroom here) which is part of a rectangular family dwelling. Each quarter has its own entrance and is small (it even makes a dorm room looks large!) and is basically for sleeping. He has a bed, a table, a chair, and a trunk. It does have a concrete floor, washed walls, and screens on the windows (a Peace Corps (PC) requirement) but he still has to sleep under a mosquito net.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- There is a back door that leads to a small yard that has the outhouse, where he has a pit toilet, with cement around the hole and a cover for the toilet. That is also where he takes a bucket and cup shower... (I recommended he shaves his head - it is easier). I guess Japan also has the "squat" toilets...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- They have a covered well for water (also a PC requirement); have to filter the drinking water and some kind of filtering for bath water.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- He eats with the family. He said there is one assigned "Mom" and "Dad" but tons of other people; he has no idea if they are a second family (remember they marry more than once) or the full extended family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- His main complaints are: the heat (it is similar to the Amazon) and the lack of variety in the food - they have only rice for every meal (or cuscus). The rice is served with some kind of sauce, either peanut, tomatoe or a green one (probably vegetable). Sometimes they have fresh vegetables and fruit (whatever is in season locally). There is occasionally some meat or fish, but the fish are small and very bony. He said some PC volunteers can't eat it; I think he eats everything (Alex is a good eater). But he said he had thought there would be others types of food. I think he also gets milk sometimes. He is taking multi vitamins given by the PC.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- The people he is dealing and will deal with in the assigned place are Fula people, cattle herders, that eat meat... So he gest milk and sometimes meat (not sure if he had it yet).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- He said the language acquisition is hard since it is completely alien. Portuguese and Spanish were easier because he grew up exposed to them. That is mostly what they do in terms of training at the village, language training.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- He said there are 3 trees in the training village; the 5 volunteers with their Gambian trainer sit under the last one every day for the training and she uses a board to write on. The language he is learning is called Pulaar. The training at the lodge every couple of weeks is about agriculture and forestry; they are teaching them about the soil, seeds, etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- He hired someone to do his laundry ($6 per month) - this also helps the local people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- When he goes to his assigned location in December, he will have to agree with his hosts, on how much he will pay for housing, food and laundry and who gets what money. Apparently the money the women earn are theirs and same for the men.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He just found out where he is going in December, on the north, close to the Senegal border. You can check the area on Google Earth, we did it, and get a feel for the place. It is a desert like area, for cattle herders. It is on the north side of the river, about 4 hours away from the capital Banjul (who sits at the mouth of the river). Find the city called Kerewan; there is another river branch going north. He will be up the river branch about 15 kilometers, then west. I don't know the name of the village but it is close to the bigger city just by Senegal called Maka bala mana (Google Earth knows that one, and close to Ker Omar. It will be very hot and dry but he will be close to the capital.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As per John/Dad: "We have to remember how easy life is here in the US and think about what we take for granted."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can write to him; my first letter got there (actually took around 2 weeks). He said if you write in "red" ink, they say there is a better chance it will get there because they are superstitious and typically won't open it. He said his friends have gotten care packages. He suggested, if anyone wants to send him things, to send him books, especially books about Africa (west Africa preferred): culture, politics, religion, customs, etc, etc. He wants to learn as much about the country and the area as possible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He wrote to us today with data for the blog but that will probably take about 1 month to get here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is all for now. Thanks for caring and enjoying his experiences.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;cheers, Lolo (Alex's Mom)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1764511553228059150-3434725170507562156?l=alexthegambia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/feeds/3434725170507562156/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1764511553228059150&amp;postID=3434725170507562156' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/3434725170507562156'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/3434725170507562156'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/2007/10/latest-news-1020-by-lolo-alexs-mom.html' title='Latest news 10/20 - by Lolo (Alex&apos;s Mom)'/><author><name>Alex</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1764511553228059150.post-4604316223399650073</id><published>2007-10-06T14:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-24T20:50:48.994-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Alex's address in The Gambia</title><content type='html'>If you want to write letters to Alex, write to&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alexander Penedo Silvester, PCV&lt;br /&gt;US Peace Corps&lt;br /&gt;PO Box 582&lt;br /&gt;Banjul, The Gambia&lt;br /&gt;West Africa&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Keep in mind that:&lt;br /&gt;- Letters will take around 1 month to get there (if they arrive)&lt;br /&gt;- Put postcards in envelopes to help guarantee delivery&lt;br /&gt;- You can send care packages but they could get lost so don't send anything too expensive&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am sure he will love hearing from his friends and family; I encourage you to write.&lt;br /&gt;cheers, Lolo (Alex's Mom)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1764511553228059150-4604316223399650073?l=alexthegambia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/feeds/4604316223399650073/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1764511553228059150&amp;postID=4604316223399650073' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/4604316223399650073'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/4604316223399650073'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/2007/10/alexs-address-in-gambia.html' title='Alex&apos;s address in The Gambia'/><author><name>Alex</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1764511553228059150.post-2067414754181331187</id><published>2007-10-04T11:42:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-19T07:49:18.730-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Off to Training Village</title><content type='html'>I am excited to leave for my training village today, which is up river near Kiang National park or forest. I will live with a host family for 8 weeks. There will be four other peace corps trainees in my village. We will live with separate families. Our instructor will stay in the village to teach us about language and culture. I will have my own house, a mud hut, and bathroom, pit latrine. I will not have internet while I am there, but my mom will try to post some blogs I mail home ( if my letters make it).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1764511553228059150-2067414754181331187?l=alexthegambia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/feeds/2067414754181331187/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1764511553228059150&amp;postID=2067414754181331187' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/2067414754181331187'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/2067414754181331187'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/2007/10/off-to-training-village.html' title='Off to Training Village'/><author><name>Alex</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1764511553228059150.post-1606467868915400480</id><published>2007-10-04T11:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-24T20:48:31.783-07:00</updated><title type='text'>First Impressions</title><content type='html'>Some first impressions, but I am not sure how accurate they are because I have seen little of the country and neighborhoods.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Poorer than I expected.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I knew there was going to be poverty, but I expected some areas of the city to be nicer. So far I have not seen any (I have not been to the tourists' hotels). I thought the US embassy would be in a nice section of the city. At first glance, I thought it was in an average section of the city. The road was good, but there were no sidewalks. Buildings on the street seemed abandoned during construction, and others looked old and falling apart. Later, I learned it was in a better neighborhood because the street had the more expensive western supermarkets and the abandoned buildings during construction belong to people with more money. These people are the ones who can afford to build such big structures. People who own these buildings run out of money and need to work more in country or abroad before they can finish construction.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Surprised by the lack of sidewalks&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So far I have only seen sidewalks in front of the British embassy and some roads in the capital, otherwise they do not really exist. The poorer sections of the city have narrow streets. The buildings are built up to the road with no sidewalks. The only time there is a section of the road separated off is when there is an open sewer running down the street.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Women wear beautiful dresses all the time&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Women wear the most colorful dresses with matching head wraps almost every day. Even when we went through a poor section of the city, we saw a large amount of women wearing these dresses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you want to see some of my pictures of Banjul, check my pics at &lt;a title="http://picasaweb.google.com/Alexander.Silvester" href="http://picasaweb.google.com/Alexander.Silvester"&gt;http://picasaweb.google.com/Alexander.Silvester&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1764511553228059150-1606467868915400480?l=alexthegambia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/feeds/1606467868915400480/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1764511553228059150&amp;postID=1606467868915400480' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/1606467868915400480'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/1606467868915400480'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/2007/10/first-impressions.html' title='First Impressions'/><author><name>Alex</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1764511553228059150.post-661183204939016687</id><published>2007-10-04T11:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-04T11:16:43.309-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Clean Hand, Dirty Hand</title><content type='html'>One of the first cultural taboos I learned was not eating with my left hand. Since I eat with my left hand, I knew I would have to switch, but eating is not the only time a person must use their right hand. Giving or receiving items and shaking hands also must be done with the right hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gambians do not use toilet paper. They pour water onto their left hand and clean themselves. In most of the country, it is difficult to properly wash your hands due to the lack of running water. The left hand is therefore considered dirty. Gambians use a tea kettle to hold the water with which they clean themselves. In our compound, we have tea kettles next to all of the toilets. In the outdoor market, I saw a Gambian wash their feet with their left hand and switch to pour water on their right hand to wash their face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do not consistently use one hand over the other. It depends upon what I am doing. For example, when I eat with a fork, I use my left hand, but when I reach into the food bowl I automatically use my right. Starting today, I am going to switch my habits to make sure I use my left hand for certain things while my right hand for others.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1764511553228059150-661183204939016687?l=alexthegambia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/feeds/661183204939016687/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1764511553228059150&amp;postID=661183204939016687' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/661183204939016687'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/661183204939016687'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/2007/10/clean-hand-dirty-hand.html' title='Clean Hand, Dirty Hand'/><author><name>Alex</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1764511553228059150.post-5858609282197822549</id><published>2007-10-03T11:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-06T14:14:13.758-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Breaking in the Newbies</title><content type='html'>The Peace Corps tries to allow Peace Corps trainees ease into living on their own in Gambian society. I think they do a good job of not throwing a trainee directly into their site. I am still going through the training process before I can become a volunteer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I started in Philly where I met the rest of my group, environmental volunteers, going to The Gambia. This initial training gives us the opportunity to learn about the Peace Corps, the country we are going, and help us prepare mentally. Philly gave us a place to meet other people with whom we will be living for two years in a familiar environment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next, we flew to The Gambia, and we are staying in a compound near the capital. Here we have many western comforts like running water, showers, flush toilets, and western style supermarkets. We learn the Gambian culture and way of life which helps us integrate when we reach our village. The Peace Corps stresses intergration into the local community to be successful. This place also gave use the chance to meet current volunteers and talk to them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After 10 days here, we move to our training villages upcountry. I have not reached this stage, but we leave Friday. My training village will be up river near Kiang National park or forest.  In the training village we live in a typical small village where we trade many western comforts for pit latrin, wells, and bucket baths, but we live in the village with other Peace Corps trainees. There will be four other volunteers in my training village. Each of us will live in a separate family. A LCH (Gambian trainer) lives in the village too. Everyday we will have a full day of language and technical classes. We live in these villages for eight weeks. Every couple of weeks, all 24 environment trainees meet to learn experiences from each other and gain more training.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last week of training we travel back to the capital area, Kombo. We have a final language test and if we achieve the intermediate level, we are sworn in at the US Ambassador's House (I hear it has a great view of the ocean), and become Peace Corps volunteers. We then go to our villages where we live for two years. I like the fact that we go through the training process in steps to help us adapt.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1764511553228059150-5858609282197822549?l=alexthegambia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/feeds/5858609282197822549/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1764511553228059150&amp;postID=5858609282197822549' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/5858609282197822549'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/5858609282197822549'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/2007/10/breaking-in-newbies.html' title='Breaking in the Newbies'/><author><name>Alex</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1764511553228059150.post-7395238386290250946</id><published>2007-10-03T01:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-06T14:16:06.415-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Gambians</title><content type='html'>Our language and cultural classes have been very informative. LCHs (language and cultural helpers) teach us, and all of them are Gambian. The Peace Coorps has a small staff and even smaller staff from America. I think most of the workers for the Peace Corps are Gambian.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Gambians have many cultural groups. The three larger tribes are Mandinka, Fulas, and Wolofs. I will be learning Pulaar which is spoken by the Fula people. The three groups are distributed throughout the country and West Africa. The Gambia is not divided along tribal lines, but mixed. The groups intermarry and some villages have compounds of different tribes. Gambians live in family compounds which is a group of houses all belonging to the same family. Houses may belong to different wives, parents of the owner, or grownup children. I will be living in one of these houses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During one exercise, our LCHs told us to write down our conceptions of the Gambia, and the LCHs would do it about America. None of the LCHs have been to America and they are supposed to represent the views of some Gambians. Some examples are the following:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Paradise, no work, and rich&lt;br /&gt;- People do not get sick&lt;br /&gt;- Superpower&lt;br /&gt;- All have guns&lt;br /&gt;- Never lie&lt;br /&gt;- US like to fight&lt;br /&gt;- Want African husbands and wives&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some of them I expected, but others I was surprised. While predominantly muslim, they are not as conservative as the Middle East and many villages have kept traditional customs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Americans never lie." At first when I heard this I could not understand why Gambians had that perception of America. We, as Americans, tell some sort of lie all the time, such as a white lie. After talking to some LCHs, I figured out why. Gambians are friendly, but they come up with excuses for things or say something they do not mean. Gambians joke a lot so I am not sure if this affects things. For example if someone asks for sugar and a person does not want to give it. they will claim they have no sugar even though they do. If they do not want to lend a bike, they will say they have a flat tire. People may ask a person to come to the field, and that person can say yes, later, but it is okay if he never goes to the field.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1764511553228059150-7395238386290250946?l=alexthegambia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/feeds/7395238386290250946/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1764511553228059150&amp;postID=7395238386290250946' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/7395238386290250946'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/7395238386290250946'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/2007/10/gambians.html' title='Gambians'/><author><name>Alex</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1764511553228059150.post-5133359940651116178</id><published>2007-10-02T12:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-06T14:18:12.182-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Snakes, Crocodiles, and Dysentery</title><content type='html'>These three hardships are things people want to avoid. The past three days I have dodged being bitten by a snake, attacked by a crocodile, and contracting dysentery. I know many people are afraid of spiders, and we have some big scary looking spiders here, but that is one thing we do not have to worry about because The Gambia has no poisonous spiders. We learned this information from taking some field trips around the Gambia to get a better feel for the country.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While there are some snakes to watch out for, we learned that it is not an event that occurs with a lot of frequency. If you leave snakes alone they will not bother you. All the Peace corps trainees visited a Reptile Farm where this French man keeps a lot of snakes and collects their poison to send it to the government to developed anti venom. It is also used as a tool to teach young gambians that not all snakes are bad. Gambian are terrified of snakes and will kill them at first glance if they do not run away giving the snake a lucky break.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We visited one of the many crocodile pools in The Gambia. They are considered sacred and increase fertility if you enter the pool full with crocs, but now they have turned into big tourist sites due to the fact that you can pet and shake a 2 meter croc's hand and back. The owners feed them so much food that they are so stuffed they do not want to move. Even though they say it is safe, I still got nervous when the croc started to move as I shook its hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our body systems are not yet used to the environment here so we have the potential of getting sick. Two members of our group have come down with dysentery and many more have the runs. I do myself a little, but with time we will all get better and it is nothing to worry about. Even the dysentary gets better with treatment. When I go to my village I will have a cell phone, and if I get sick, I can call the medical officer to let them know what is going on with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is all for now, but hopefully I can write more soon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1764511553228059150-5133359940651116178?l=alexthegambia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/feeds/5133359940651116178/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1764511553228059150&amp;postID=5133359940651116178' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/5133359940651116178'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/5133359940651116178'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/2007/10/snakes-crocodiles-and-dysentary.html' title='Snakes, Crocodiles, and Dysentery'/><author><name>Alex</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1764511553228059150.post-5252968167284525194</id><published>2007-10-01T14:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-06T14:19:55.956-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Gambia</title><content type='html'>Last thursday, I joined the other 7,500 or so Peace Corps volunteers worldwide. I arrived with 23 other Environment volunteers in The Gambia where we will spend the next two years of our lives. We left NYC Wednesday night, had a lay over in Brussels, and a quick stop in Dakar, Senegal. Flying into The Gambia, we flew over the capital, Banjul, and landed at the Banjul International airport which is outside the city in the area known as Kombo. We are staying in Kombo for ten days, until Friday. We are about a thirty minute walk from the beach and in dormitory style rooms with a roommate. The compound has flush toilets and showers, but the electricity sometimes goes out and the water pressure decreases about once a day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first thing I noticed flying over The Gambia was how green it was. We are at the end of the rainy season (June through October) which could be the main reason for all the lush vegetation. I expected the area to be drier, but maybe by the end of the dry season most plants will die. It is around 90 degrees here, but the humidity is probably around 100 percent. My shirt gets soaked when I walk around, and for the most part, I am constantly sweating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Peace Corps has kept us extremely busy with sessions about language, health, security, and culture. It seems like we have been here a lot longer than four days. We have started to visit some areas around the city and will have the opportunity of visiting places such as the market to learn how to barter ( I need lessons because I am no good at it) and the capital.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will be training for the next three months, and my internet time will be extremely limited because on Friday I am leaving for my training village where I will not have internet access. It looks like I will be writing paper letters for the next 8 or 9 weeks until I come back to the capital area.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1764511553228059150-5252968167284525194?l=alexthegambia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/feeds/5252968167284525194/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1764511553228059150&amp;postID=5252968167284525194' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/5252968167284525194'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/5252968167284525194'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/2007/10/gambia.html' title='The Gambia'/><author><name>Alex</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1764511553228059150.post-492383718279262906</id><published>2007-09-22T22:26:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-22T22:41:32.693-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Off to Africa</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/RvX78fXa9zI/AAAAAAAAAAM/y20Z8VTTQFw/s1600-h/400px-Ga-map.png"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/RvX78fXa9zI/AAAAAAAAAAM/y20Z8VTTQFw/s200/400px-Ga-map.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5113269968579524402" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow I leave for Philadelphia for my pre-orientation. I will join other Peace Corps volunteers to begin our travels. On Wednesday I leave for The Gambia with a layover in Brussels. I am taking one duffel bag and a backpacking backpack. Hopefully I have everything I will need.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am excited to finally leave. I started the process over 6 months ago, and it seems like I have been waiting forever to go. When I arrive in The Gambia, I will be in the capital for a week where I will have access to internet. After that, I will move to a training village for the next nine weeks. I will only have internet when I travel to a larger village which should be every couple of weeks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[photo: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Gambia]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1764511553228059150-492383718279262906?l=alexthegambia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/feeds/492383718279262906/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1764511553228059150&amp;postID=492383718279262906' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/492383718279262906'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/492383718279262906'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/2007/09/off-to-africa.html' title='Off to Africa'/><author><name>Alex</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_ioOXDRoaItI/RvX78fXa9zI/AAAAAAAAAAM/y20Z8VTTQFw/s72-c/400px-Ga-map.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1764511553228059150.post-4581820386168640117</id><published>2007-09-11T20:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-22T22:42:09.842-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Beginnings</title><content type='html'>Today I created my blog in anticipation of my Peace Corps experience. I have been running around all week trying to pick up some last minute supplies I need.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1764511553228059150-4581820386168640117?l=alexthegambia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/feeds/4581820386168640117/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1764511553228059150&amp;postID=4581820386168640117' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/4581820386168640117'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1764511553228059150/posts/default/4581820386168640117'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alexthegambia.blogspot.com/2007/09/beginnings.html' title='The Beginnings'/><author><name>Alex</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
