Half A Year Deep

I returned to Brikama from my few weeks in Kombo determined to find more work to occupy my time. I had the idea to go up to a huge nature reserve located right outside of Brikama, and basically just walk in and ask for work, so that is what I did. Kelsey, a health volunteer who just moved to Brikama from the provinces, and I rode our bikes up the road to where I had seen the sign before. Having no idea how far off the road this place was, we were not so pleasantly surprised to have to ride another thirty minutes in a foot of sand. We finally arrived, panting and sweaty. I spent forever trying to explain to the staff why I was there and asking who I should speak to. They just ignored me and kept trying to make Kelsey and I pay the 350 dalasi for a half-day tour. Eventually we get in and were led to the owner who was sitting under a bantaba surrounded by people, obviously very busy. I introduced myself and told him why I as there. He said he was really busy but he wanted to talk and for me to just hang out and he would find me later. I didn't see him again that day, but the rest of the day provided well worth the trip out there. S we hung out for a while, watching the tourists take pictures of the baboons running around. More and more baboons started showing up to have their look at the tourists. I think they might like having their picture taken more than Gambians do. Those of you who know me understand that monkeys, especially large violent ones, make me pretty uncomfortable. As I'm starting to get worked up Kelsey leans into me and whispers "is this safe? I mean I always thought baboons were dangerous?" At that moment a tour guide walks up, mistaking us for paying tourists and began to tell us about the history of the place, etc. We listened politely as he told us about the "indigenous" people, having no idea that we actually live and work with them. But I prefer to call them Gambians. Kelsey surprised him by asking if it's safe for so many baboons to be loose around people...in perfect Mandinka. He laughed and told us that we are safe as long as the number of people outnumber the baboons and then promptly led us through the woods where the three of us were surrounded by baboons and outnumbered tenfold. The tour guide sensed my anxiety about being in a forest surrounded by thirty gigantic, angry, probably hungry baboons and told me just to ignore them. I told him that was difficult to do when there was a male, who came up to my shoulders, practically stepping on my heels. We emerged from the woods and were put into a canoe made out of a carved tree trunk. While we were waiting for more tourists to fill up the boat the employee already in the boat started telling us scary baboon stories from the bush, too crude to be repeated, but scary enough to make me not want to get out of the boat. Kelsey started asking if the baboons glaring at us on the shore of the river could swim. The tour guide said "not too well." So anyway, we got a beautiful boat ride, checked out the mangrove flats and oyster villages, birds, monitor lizards, and then were taken on a nature walk and palm wine tasting. So I didn't end up getting to to talk to the owner that day but I'd say it ended up being an excellent day. We got to see all of that awesome stuff AND we weren't eaten by baboons, success!

I finally got in touch with the owner and made the long bike ride back up there a few days ago. He asked me for help on a project that they started last year and want to continue again this year. It's called Wide Open Walls Gambia and it's absolutely brilliant. I am so so so excited to be able to be a part of it. Here are some websites with more info on the project:

Wide Open Walls Facebook Page
WOW Blog

I haven't told a scary spider story in quite a while so I think its about that time again. So I usually try and avoid shining lights on my walls at night to stop myself from seeing the spiders I know are there. I do realize that they are usually there, but I like to pretend that if I don't see them, then they aren't there. One night, pretty recently, I had been sitting outside chatting with my neighbors, and decided to come to read. As I walked into my house with my flashlight, I accidentally illuminated the opposite wall. And there...I saw...not one, but TWO of the biggest scorpion-horse spiders I've seen yet. I started hyperventilating, my eyes roaming around looking for something to kill them. All the while thinking about how fast they run and how high up on the wall they are so that to kill them I'd have to stand right under them so that when I swatted at them with my Haviana, it would be pretty likely that they would fall on me and get tangled in my hair, my worst nightmare (literally, my worst nightmare...thank you methloquin.) So I rationalized two against one, completely unfair and I went to get my neighbors Ousman and Mr. Kanteh to kill them. They went inside and went at the spiders with my broom. I hid outside behind Fatou the whole time while they all laughed at me, something I will remember the next time I see one of them running through the compound because they saw a frog. Mr. Kanteh came out of my house with the two dead spiders in the palm of his hand. Before I could thank him, he saw me hiding behind Fatou, paralyzed with fear, and decided to chase me around with the dead spiders. Evil, pure evil. He chased me around in circles for a while until I ran back into my house and slammed the door, refusing to open it again. I could hear them all laughing at what had happened, re-enacting me being chased. Later on I could STILL hear them laughing about it so I yelled out "big spiders are scarier than little frogs!!" yeah, I know. Not too good, but I haven't successfully been witty in Mandinka yet and I doubt I ever will. But that statement just made them laugh even harder. Its ok Mr. Kanteh, Ousman, Fatou, Aminata, and Mata...watch your backs, there are many frogs in my back yard with your names all over them.

Mr. Kanteh is one of the other renters in my compound. He works for the World Food Program and assumes that I know a lot more about Environment and Health issues than I actually do. Despite the fact that he enjoys torturing me, he is a very nice guy. I gave him my number so that he could get in touch with me if he ever had a WFP project he wanted me to help with. In the past I would hear him yelling my name and he wouldn't stop until I came outside, and then he would invite me to his food-bowl to eat lunch or dinner. Now that he has my number, twice a day I get a text that says "Sali, lunch/dinner is here. come eat." and he only lives two doors away in the compound.

One afternoon last week, I was sitting on my floor in my house gazing at an ad I found in a magazine and taped to my wall. It was a Gucci perfume ad featuring the gorgeous James Franco climbing out of a pool, soaking wet, staring intensely into the camera. So as I'm looking back at him, just as intensely I got a text from George. Something along the lines of "I'm snowed in at the hotel with your hunky boyfriend James Franco." My heart stopped. Then it started again and I wished that I could text George back (damn you Africell!!) to tell him to give James a kiss for me. I think so far, I haven't wanted to be home as much as I had in that moment.

Cold season has arrived here in the Gambia. That means about a month and a half of amazing weather. It never actually gets cold. Maybe 65-70 at night and 80-90 during the day. So just in case you were wondering I've come up with a few ways to blend in with the locals during cold season:

1)You MUST act like it is at most thirty degrees outside. Rub your hands together, breathe into them, stamp your feet, shiver, and clutch yourself at all times.
2) Winter wear here is pretty easy. It consists of normal Gambian wear with one small addition. A Spiffy, 80's style, brightly colored windbreaker. It should be zipped up all the way to the chin.
3) Most importantly, you have to begin every conversation with "it's too cold today' or something similar, but then also bring up the weather at least every two minutes in your conversation.

Although this sounds ridiculous, I have found myself doing these things with the teachers every morning at school. If anyone has a sweet windbreaker laying around, bright purple preferably, send it over!!