Groundnut Season

Chinese and I went to Bakadaji to sell Fatou’s groundnuts (peanuts). We brought 1/3 of her harvest to sell: 60 kilograms. Bakadaji is a groundnut consolidation point. There are consolidation points around the country to gather the groundnut harvest from farmers for resale. The idea is to give all the farmers a fair price for groundnuts, and get the harvest to a centralized point for storage, shipment, resale etc.

The groundnuts are repackaged into standardized bags and weighed. The farmer is then immediately paid for his harvest and the groundnuts are loaded onto trucks. In the past the process has had some problems with getting the farmers paid, but this year everything seemed to run smoothly. For the 60 kilos we were paid 500 dalasis. That’s about 8 dalasis a kilo. For the amount of work put into each kilo it’s a ridiculously low price. It translates into fractions of pennies on the hour for labor per person. But it’s the going rate for groundnuts nationwide.

Marathon March

This year for Christmas I was at a tourist camp called Tendaba that Peace Corps uses every year for training. I came in to do training for our new class of volunteers. I had a really sweet tree ID scavenger hunt. My friend Jes and I ran sessions on AgFo project stuff the 23^rd and we got to know the trainees. There were 35 of them, 18 in the AgFo sector; the others are Health and community development sector. Then, on Christmas eve we spent the day on what’s called Marathon March.

This was a little dramatic. It’s 26 k through a national park and the bush, along the river, and back through a rice field (aka mud up to your waist!). Jes and I were the volunteer leaders, and this guy Lamin was the guide who has been doing this for several years. The march started off great at 6am. At about noon we reached this sweet escarpment overlooking the river. Things went downhill from there.

Lamin, in his infinite wisdom, started bushwhacking parallel to the river, instead of bushwhacking a right angle to the river. We walked about 3 k through grass that was 3-4 meters tall (aka up to 12 feet!) (Lamin also forgot to bring a machete- so we had none.) we stopped to rest and I checked in w/ lamin after taping a girls ankle. He claimed we were only 15 min from the river. We headed out in the same direction. I have this problem with trusting people I know are wrong just because they are in positions of power and experience. Silly me not trusting my gut… 3 k later another stop- it’s getting later (you can’t make good time bushwhacking through the giant grass) at this point lamin is stopping every so often to climb trees to look for the river above the grass. And we kept going in the same direction, parallel to the river that we should have reached by now. Finally, about 10 k from the escarpment (or maybe more- I’m not sure) Jes and I said enough. Our poor trainees were getting out of water, and everyone knew we weren’t where we were supposed to be. Lamin got pissed that we were calling him out and started getting agitated, but Jes and I calmed him down and tried to get focused on the best next step.

At about 3:00 we decided to go back the way we came (yes if you are lost you should not try to retrace your steps, but we were essentially heading straight east, so we weren’t actually lost lost. We knew where we were (if this makes sense) but we didn’t know exactly where we were. The river was to the north and the road was to the south less than 10k. at this point it was a matter of getting the trainees back in one piece)

So we turned around. I got on the cell phone with our training manager to tell him we’d be late, and please send a car for the ones who were worst off and out of water.

We trudged into the entrance of Kiang National Park just as the car came with 20 l of water. It pulled away with 12 trainees and the rest of us retraced our steps (now not lost) back to Tendaba, where we arrived at 6 pm. A 12 hour hike. No biggie… Jes and I were just happy to get everyone back in one piece.

Did We Need That Part?

On my way to Marnies site the gelly suddenly made a loud noise as something fell onto the road behind us. We stopped and backed up on the road to the parts laying in the middle of the road. The apparante (apprentice/helper) jumped out to pick up the pieces. They looked suspiciously like pieces of a disc break or other moving, necessary part.

But we kept driving- at a snails pace! We had to stop again to pick more pieces up off the road, and the gelly limped up the road, finally arriving at Marnies village almost an hour later.

Grass Hive

The grass is starting to cure and dry out in the bush, so I decided to make a grass beehive. It took about 40 hours over a week and a half or so. I’m pretty please with the result. I’m teaching Chinese and Salif to weave hives, so hopefully we’ll put several out in the bush to be colonized.

Now I have to bait it with perfume and place it in the bush.

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!?