And so the school year begins. We're now a month in and the lessons have finally started, the students have all decided to come, and the teachers have stopped pouting and have started making their appearances in the classroom. The first two weeks I went to school everyday, the only person to do so, and was there at 8:00 sharp. Yet, I did not get a single thing accomplished because no one else was ready to work yet. Even though this time I knew this was coming and it was all to be expected, the familiar frustrations began to rise. Especially when I found out my counterpart decided to go back to university... and would probably not be around next year...and I was the last to know. This is great for him, but horrible for the sustainability of our projects that we have spent a year working on. This week though things have started to turn around. I finally tracked down my counterpart, who has yet to actually show up at school, and we decided that he will still help out this year but we also need to find another teacher to participate and will carry on the projects next year. Easier said than done, it will be a challenge to talk another teacher into taking on more work than they already have but he seems confident that it will happen...Inshallah.
Last Friday was the school's "setsetal" or cleaning day. As usual, I had no idea this was going to happen and you can imagine my terror when at 11:00 they rang the bell and 1,000 middle school students came running out of their classes with machetes and pitchforks. "Hmm, this is unusual" I thought peeking out of the office door. As I watched, the students ran to the school yard and start whacking away at the shoulder high grass. As they're working away under the hot, humid sun I could see their uniforms soaking though with sweat. The teachers were walking around them with their rubber hoses waiting for one of them to start playing around. They did this for about an hour until the field was cleared and then they all crowded around the school pump, chugging water before they walked home. Whenever my life here becomes redundant something always happens to remind me that Gambia is a very different place than America.
Ahhhh October, aka Sweatober, is coming to an end. FINALLY. What a horrible, horrible month. I have no idea what the temperature is due to the lack of thermometers about, but its really really damn hot. The rains have stopped so there is never a break in the heat and there is still moisture in the ground so the humidity is absolutely unbearable. Here is my day: I wake up early, already sweating, by the time I've gotten ready for school I've already sweated through my clothes. At school I sit with the teachers fanning ourselves with cheap plastic fans made in Japan, talking about how hot it is. When I do laundry it takes two or three days to dry because of the humidity. If they are folded without being completely dry they mold. I do hot yoga everyday....no need for a heater. It sounds like its raining while I'm doing yoga because of the sweat dripping off my face, arms, and legs onto the mat. The majority of my day is spent laying on a bantaba under a tree in the yard listening to my host mother tell me how to get rid of my heat rash that is now covering my body from my bellybutton to my chin. When I take a bucket bath at night I never fully dry and I cant even stop sweating long enough to even put on baby powder. Oh, October how I despise you. Only a few weeks until the glorious cold season rolls in, a few weeks until I can sleep with a sheet on, and for my spices to stop melting.
I know I tend to write more about my cultural experience than work here. So I'll spend some time now catching you up on what I've been up to. Peer tutoring is back up and running as of yesterday. We had the training for the tutors and the program as grown to 100 students in grades 8 and 9. Hopefully this wont be too overwhelming but I think that the more students and teachers I can get involved this year, the more of a chance this program will continue next year when I'm gone.
After months and months of begging, letter writing, and ass-kissing I finally talked the regional education office into giving my school 5 of the 25 donated computers they received. To be honest they were all probably going to be given to the staff for personal use so it was a miracle I even talked them into giving us 5. So after months and months of working on this with the head teacher we were given the computers but still no one from my school has gone to pick them up. I'm sure the principal will go and get them eventually but this is a perfect example of one of the biggest challenges we face, our counterparts becoming bored with a project and giving up.
One of the best moments of my service to date happened right before school started this year. There is a family that is renting within my compound, the Fattys. The daughter is maybe 14 or 15, her name is Niema. She didn't go to school last year, but after sitting down and talking with her a few times she decided she wanted to go back. She talked to her parents and they agreed to let her go back. The next day, Niema's mother approached me and brought Fatou with her to translate, so I knew it was something important. She asked me to go to school with Niema and talk the principal into accepting her to the school. I totally didn't need to do this, I'm sure they would have accepted her on her own but I agreed to go anyway. The next day Niema and her father and I walked to school. We sat down with Mr. Darboe and I told him about Niema and of course he agreed to accept her. Then Mr Fatty, an imam, and a very quiet, stoic, and well-respected man began speaking rapidly in Mandinka. I knew he was talking about me but I only caught some of it. Mr Darboe turned to me when Mr. Fatty was finished. Apparently, Mr Fatty had been praising me. He told me that Mr. Fatty respects the way I carry myself and treat other Gambians. He thinks that I am a role model for the community and they should take more advantage of my presence in their community and learn from me while I'm here...and so on...I began to tear up towards the end of Mr. Fatty's speech and then it got awkward because Gambians rarely cry. It was one of those moments that motivates me to keep going and work towards fulfilling his idea and expectations of who I am.
One of the biggest annual Peace corps group projects is the HIV/AIDs education bike trek. I really regretted not being able to participate last year (I was still in 3 month challenge) so I decided I couldn't miss it this year and signed up. Because of issues with the 50th anniversary program date change the bike trek went from a week long trek on a bike, to a 4 day trek on gely gelys. I was assigned to teach at Bakadaji Upper Basic School, which is in the upper river region all the way at the end of the country and about as rural as it gets. We spent the day traveling up in a set-place. All of the teams had to sleep at the school, in an abandoned classroom, on the floor, which was an experience in it self. Not to mention taking bucket baths out in the open right behind the school. We were paired up and split the lessons down the middle and each taught half. My partner Brian was even less comfortable doing the transmission part of the lesson than I was so I stepped up and agreed to do it. The majority of the transmission lesson is talking about sex and I was super nervous. I've never graphically and clearly described vaginal and oral sex to a group of 50 middle school students before and I have to say that first time wasn't easy. When talking to Gambian students, its necessary to speak uncomfortably slow so they can understand whats being said , so there was no rushing through this.. They were all giggling and covering their faces. My hands were shaking at the effort not to start giggling myself, I couldn't even look in the direction Brian was standing because I knew the second I glanced at him my maturity and seriousness would vanish and I would be reduced to giggling and covering my face like all of the students. So I got through what felt like the hours long sex talk and answered all of their inappropriate sex questions. The rest of the curriculum was a breeze. We taught them facts about HIV/AIDS and how to speak out about it in their communities. It was a tough 4 days but we all left feeling amazing about what we had done.
As of now I only have about 9 months left until I reach my completion of service. It's difficult because now I'm at the point where I feel like I've been here forever, 16 months, but I still have quite a ways to go. Luckily I have tons of vacation days left and I plan on using them all, at least as many as I can until my money runs out. Alice and Meghan are coming to visit in December, George in January, I'm going to Cape Verde for Carnival in February, and possibly Ghana and Benin in April, so I have plenty to look forward to. If you want to visit everyone and anyone is welcome! I would love to share this experience with as many people as possible. And one last thing, if you're ever feeling bored write me a letter! You cannot imagine how much receiving a letter brightens my day. And if you're feeling extra generous, care packages are always always appreciated.
See you in 9 months!!
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