The Snake in the Grass

The best route to Kasey’s village is a bush road from Kossemar to Diabugu. (Ha- that must be a bunch of gibberish!) I was headed with Pondo to have lunch with Kasey and Stripes the day before thanksgiving. Duck benechin! Yum! I crossed the river and headed up the bank. On the side of the path was a man field dressing the biggest snake I’ve ever seen.

I stopped to chat with the men about the snake and ended up buying about 2 kilos of snake meat. They claimed people eat it, so I was psyched to bring some meat home to the family. They showed me the skin tacked to the wall of a house. The snake was huge- at least 25 feet long!

At Kasey’s I tried to get her family to cook some of the meat. It turns out no self respecting Mandinka will eat snake meat. My family said the same thing. We tried to fry some at Kasey’s but it was not sweet. Rubbery and chewy and gross, actually.

The next day (thanksgiving) I tried to smoke the meat. I built a corncob smoky fire and the snake was smoking nicely.

Too bad I went up the hill to call home and didn’t stay by the smoker. While I was gone the snake caught fire, and burned to a charred crisp. Bummer.

I scraped the char off and ate the meat underneath- it was really good- the smoking made it tender and tasty, or it would have been tasty if it hadn’t been all charred.

The Original English Speakers

Our (Tara and my) work in Kanyubeh is backed and prompted by a British couple who are funding the construction of a Nursery School. We’ve been working with them since Feb. to get the school open. D & J are funding it with a charity they created, the Gambia Upcountry Charity, and in early November one of their primary fundraisers came to Kanyubeh to work for 2 weeks. Over the two weeks they were there, E. and S. met everyone in the village, registered children for class, held school committee meetings and worked on the construction of the school. The village fell in love with them (ha- I did a little to if you can’t tell…). They motivated the village with model classes and even held a football tournament for the kids!

It’s been great working with the Brits (as I refer to them as). They are all committed to supporting the village and helping to make the nursery school sustainable. When we as Peace Corps Volunteers meet other white people in the Gambia we are usually pretty skeptical of their intentions. Too often we see people just come in and dump money on a project and leave, without any preplanning or follow up. This experience has truly been collaboration between the charity, Peace Corps and especially the Gambians and the village.

Scarred for Life

Facial scarring is a cultural tradition among several of the ethnic groups in the Gambia. Women (and men) cut small scars on their faces and blacken them with peanut ash for beauty. Several of the Volunteers have the traditional scars, but in places other than our faces! Kasey and I decided we wanted to get scars to commemorate 12 months in the Gambia. We had been discussing it for months, since July or August, and our one year mark was fast approaching!

Volunteers have a woman in Wassu they always go to to get scars, but I’m lazy and didn’t want to travel all the way down there. Plus, I live in an area with several Fula villages (the ethnic group most associated with scars) so there had to be someone nearby who would do it.

The week before we wanted them I discussed it with Chinese. We hopped on bikes and rode to Sare Sankule 3 k into the bush. Chinese explained our mission to several people and we were directed to the compound of the women who is best at scarring. She laughed at my idea to get scars, but not on my face (the women we met on the road all agreed that scars on my face would be very beautiful… no way says I!). We made an appointment for her to come up to HK the next week with her partner and do our scars. Success! Now where to put them…

November 7^th, 2009- The women arrive at our compound and it’s supremely awkward b/c I don’t speak Fula, and they don’t speak Mandinka… Do-de-do… And we’re waiting for Kasey to arrive. While we wait I burn the peanuts that will be put in my skin to blacken it. And prep the razor blades that will cut me open. Yikes! This is another moment where I say to myself ‘I hope this is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.’

Kasey arrives on a donkey, and we scrub up and draw our scars on with a pen. B. taped the whole thing and I’ll try to find the video- it may be on Kasey’s blog.

Kasey got hers on her foot, and I got mine on my upper right arm. It bled a lot. Mixed with the blood was the peanut charcoal/oil mix. For it to stay, she really had to rub it in hard.

And then it was over. Don’t get it wet for 3 days, and rub more ash in tomorrow. Done and done. Later that day I called home to tell my parents the silly thing I’d done.

The scars healed really nicely and I’m very happy with them. Besides the memories of the Gambia, I’ll have my scars for the rest of my life- this isn’t a metaphor for my time here right!?