The weekend back on the South Bank
Having flown all the way to Gambia, we did not simply want to spend our last two days in the country sitting by a pool or on a beach which could have been in any number of locations around the world. Both Sarjor and Karamo are qualified tourist guides so we decided to cram in as much as possible over the weekend.
The 'holiday' part of our trip is probably of limited interest, but I decided to include a brief account of how we spent those two days just to give you an idea of what there is to do in Gambia if you are considering a trip to see your sponsored child or perhaps volunteering at a HELPING project but still want a holiday while you are out there. For example, we met a retired British couple who were in Gambia for a month, spending two weeks volunteering and two weeks as holidays.
With Karamo as our guide, we used local transport in the form of shared taxis and bush taxis (minibuses) to visit Katchikally sacred crocodile pool where we were able to pet the well-fed crocs. Then on to Makasutu Forest, a conservation area where I rode in a pirogue down the bolong to see the mangroves. The same day, we managed to visit Brikama and Serekunda markets to buy fabrics.
The following day, Karamo had arranged a local bird guide to take me around Abuko Nature Reserve which was well worth the money as I would never have spotted so many different species without his help.
By having Karamo as our guide, we saved a fortune on tourist excursions and really enjoyed escaping the tourist trap of air-conditioned coaches and being 'allowed' fixed times at each place. We felt that even our 'tourist' days had been a taste of the true Gambia.
We did managed to squeeze in an afternoon of sun before spending our last evening with Chris and Margaret.
I would highly recommend anyone to visit a HELPING project as a volunteer. No, you won't get hotel-standard accommodation and familiar food and there might be the odd insect (although neither of us had a single mosquito bite) but you can have a fantastic experience. Everyone we met was incredibly friendly and helpful. The Gambian people may have very little but whatever they have, they insist on sharing with you and they were genuinely happy and grateful to have our help in their school, albeit only for a couple of days.
Tuesday 19 February 2013
Sunday 17 February 2013
EXTRACTS FROM A VOLUNTEER'S DIARY - 17th Feb 2012
Friday 17 February 2012
Our morning routine was now established. At around 7am we were woken by the increasing heat and the appearance of spots of light in the metal roof above our beds where the corrugated sheets were joined together.
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| My bedroom, with a curtain over the door |
Each of our bedrooms had its own door into the back yard area - a strip of land about six feet wide and enclosed by a substantial wall. Domestic tasks are performed here. There is a simple bathroom at each end. JD and I were given exclusive use of one of the bathrooms. It contained a western-style toilet and the traditional squatting style toilet which doubled as a shower area. To take a shower, we needed a bucket of water and a jug. The water sometimes came up lukewarm from the tap, or it could be left to stand in the sun a while to warm up.
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| The narrow yard behind the staff houses |
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| The shower area of our bathroom |
As this was our last morning and as we had survived our village experience without resorting to our emergency food supplies, we told Sainey we would not need breakfast and that we had food to share for a change! She made us a hot drink anyway and we distributed cereal bars to all the teachers, explaining that this was the kind of breakfast we might have at home if we were in a hurry! They were perplexed by this small 'meal' but enjoyed the bars, then tucked into their usual fish and rice!
The children had started drifting in to school although there were no lessons that day because it was sports day. JD and I were due to be collected by Sarjor and taken back to our hotel. We wanted to leave our simple teaching materials at the school and entrusted them to Mr Bah who had watched with great interest as we used dice and playing cards to make maths a bit more fun! We had been touched by the generosity of everyone we had encountered, so we wanted to give back whatever we could, although we had taken almost nothing with us except the school supplies and our clothes. We had another fleece blanket which we gave to Mr Bah for his three-month old baby boy, Tabba, and Sainey and I exchanged pieces of jewellery.
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| Sainey |
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| JD sharing a meal in the school grounds |
We decided to take a daytime walk around the village as we had only really seen it at night before, except for the school compound, and wanted to take photos and visit the market. Mr Njie offered to accompany us - he was forever concerned for our safety and welfare, although we always felt perfectly safe.
We were shown the most important parts of the village - the small couscous mill, the one-room peanut butter factory with its single piece of machinery. We watched a man plastering the walls of a house he was building using traditional mud bricks, and visited the Chairman of the School Management Committee at his home - he presented us with a huge papaya from his tree.
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| The peanut butter factory |
At the junction of a couple of paths in the centre of the village stood a shaded wooden table with a few food items on it - balls of monkey fruit, hot peppers, stock cubes, a cabbage.
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| Market stall |
Other women simply sat in a shady spot with their produce displayed on a cloth on the ground. There were tomatoes, onions, dried fish.
Too soon it was time to return to the school house for the last time. Mr Mahmoud called us to his office along with his senior teachers where we exchanged speeches of farewell and thanks.
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| JD with Mr Njie, HELPING's link teacher |
Friday 15 February 2013
EXTRACTS FROM A VOLUNTEER'S DIARY - 16th Feb 2012
Thursday 16 February 2012
Having gained an understanding of local food customs and realising that we would be invited to eat many times during the day, we had convinced Sainey that we did not require a huge breakfast. We requested simply bread with peanut butter which she delivered to our door along with a large round tupperware pot filled with weak coffee with lots of condensed milk.
This was the day when we were to observe some of the teachers at work. Mr Mahmoud arranged for the Deputy Head, Mr Bah, to take us into each of the classrooms in turn to get an impression of a typical day in a Gambian Lower Basic School.
We saw the youngest classes chanting Jolly Phonics, a lesson on hygiene precautions to avoid diarrhoea, a class learning about how Gambia is governed, maths classes etc.
The lessons were teacher-led with little input from the students and often involved the children copying questions or maths problems from the board and working alone to answer them. We were surprised to see the teachers did not check on the children's understanding or progress while they were working, and the teachers seemed a little taken aback to see us sitting with the children at their tables, prompting them and questioning their knowledge.
After morning break we spent more time teaching maths and English before a lunch of cassava and fried onions with rice. The cassava was my request, having seen it served in the school kitchen before - it was delicious and probably my favourite Gambian food.
Mr Bah invited us to visit his home after lunch - he lived only a couple of minutes walk from the school. At his compound, we met his wife Isatu who made us ata - Gambian tea - brewed in a tiny metal teapot on a small charcoal stove. We sat together outside his house while she brewed the leaves three times, the tea poured into a small glass from a height, then from glass to glass to dissolve the sugar and create a foamy head. Tradition dictates it should be slurped noisily!
Isatu brought her husband's dinner outside - rice and fish - which we were once again invited to share. The local fish comes from the river rather than the sea and has lots of tiny bones which the Gambian's are expert at separating from the flesh! The flavour was much stronger than we were used to.
I joined Isatu and the children, shelling peanuts until Mr Bah offered to show us round the compound. He had lots of cassava plants, plus tomatoes and other foods I didn't recognise.
His house was quite typical of the
local style with mud brick walls and a roof thatched with palm fronds. He explained that such a roof needs replacing each year after the rains. The house had a separate building for the kitchen and a toilet surrounded by a fence of reeds. Within the compound stood the walls of a new house he had begun building six years before. More concrete bricks stood waiting to be used and Mr Bah explained that he was saving up to buy the expensive corrugated metal roof panels before the house could be completed.
As we left his home, Mr Bah presented us with a carved wooden owl as a gift. We felt embarrassed that we had nothing to give in return, although we had come to realise that the plastic bottles containing our water supplies were highly valued in the village, and made a mental note to save some for Mr Bah.
That evening, Mr Mahmoud took us on a walk around Pakau. It is considered good manners to pay visits to the important figures in the village at their homes. We paid our respects to many of the people who had come to welcome us when we arrived at the school. We called to see the Alkalo, who was not the same man we had met at school but his elderly father, now blinded by cataracts. It was explained that he was still officially the Alkalo (chief), although his son carried out the duties of the office.
Despite the dark, the village was buzzing with many people sitting outside, making ata on small stoves or wood fires, or simply sitting, eating and chatting with their neighbours. The village shop was open too - a real Aladdin's cave containing everything from bread to scissors to batteries.
Returning to school around 9.30, Mr Mahmoud and I sat outside together and talked about schools and teaching, with me trying to answer his many questions.
Having gained an understanding of local food customs and realising that we would be invited to eat many times during the day, we had convinced Sainey that we did not require a huge breakfast. We requested simply bread with peanut butter which she delivered to our door along with a large round tupperware pot filled with weak coffee with lots of condensed milk.
This was the day when we were to observe some of the teachers at work. Mr Mahmoud arranged for the Deputy Head, Mr Bah, to take us into each of the classrooms in turn to get an impression of a typical day in a Gambian Lower Basic School.
The lessons were teacher-led with little input from the students and often involved the children copying questions or maths problems from the board and working alone to answer them. We were surprised to see the teachers did not check on the children's understanding or progress while they were working, and the teachers seemed a little taken aback to see us sitting with the children at their tables, prompting them and questioning their knowledge.
After morning break we spent more time teaching maths and English before a lunch of cassava and fried onions with rice. The cassava was my request, having seen it served in the school kitchen before - it was delicious and probably my favourite Gambian food.
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| Isatu brews ata - Gambian tea |
Isatu brought her husband's dinner outside - rice and fish - which we were once again invited to share. The local fish comes from the river rather than the sea and has lots of tiny bones which the Gambian's are expert at separating from the flesh! The flavour was much stronger than we were used to.
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| Mr Bah in his compound with his wife Isatu and two of their four children |
His house was quite typical of the
local style with mud brick walls and a roof thatched with palm fronds. He explained that such a roof needs replacing each year after the rains. The house had a separate building for the kitchen and a toilet surrounded by a fence of reeds. Within the compound stood the walls of a new house he had begun building six years before. More concrete bricks stood waiting to be used and Mr Bah explained that he was saving up to buy the expensive corrugated metal roof panels before the house could be completed.
As we left his home, Mr Bah presented us with a carved wooden owl as a gift. We felt embarrassed that we had nothing to give in return, although we had come to realise that the plastic bottles containing our water supplies were highly valued in the village, and made a mental note to save some for Mr Bah.
That evening, Mr Mahmoud took us on a walk around Pakau. It is considered good manners to pay visits to the important figures in the village at their homes. We paid our respects to many of the people who had come to welcome us when we arrived at the school. We called to see the Alkalo, who was not the same man we had met at school but his elderly father, now blinded by cataracts. It was explained that he was still officially the Alkalo (chief), although his son carried out the duties of the office.
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| The elderly Alkalo at home |
Despite the dark, the village was buzzing with many people sitting outside, making ata on small stoves or wood fires, or simply sitting, eating and chatting with their neighbours. The village shop was open too - a real Aladdin's cave containing everything from bread to scissors to batteries.
EXTRACTS FROM A VOLUNTEER'S DIARY - 15th Feb 2012
Wednesday 15 February 2012
I woke several times during the night, panicking about what activities JD and I would do with the children. At one point, I got up to visit the bathroom - quite a palaver to untangle the mossie net tucked under my mattress, find the torch and loo roll and unbolt the metal door. By that time, the solar power had run out, so I stumbled into the alleyway behind the teachers housing block, disturbing a sleeping chicken whose legs were tied together. It squawked and flapped awkwardly away. Only later did it dawn on me that the bird would be that night's dinner!
I was relieved to find that the bathroom had not been invaded by creepy crawlies - I was prepared for an audience of cockroaches! However, our western style 'flush' toilet was not actually plumbed into any water supply and so would only flush if the cistern was manually filled from a bucket each time. It was far easier simply to tip a bucketful of water down the loo instead. The school yard had its own tap and it seemed to be the children's job to fetch water so we were regularly supplied with a fresh bucketful.
We got up about 7am just as it was getting light. To us, it was already hot, but the young teachers who were already up and about outside were huddled around a small charcoal stove, warming their hands! I gave one of them a fleece blanket I had brought with me, thinking it might get chilly at night.
We had intended to buy a Gambian SIM card but were told they were difficult for foreigners to get hold of, so Margaret had left us with her phone with a Gamcel SIM in it. However, the signal on that network was very poor in Pakau so when we tried to make a call, we realised we couldn't get in touch with either Chris and Margaret, the Gambian staff or anyone back in the UK! We realised just how isolated we were in Pakau!
Sainey brought out breakfast - we had asked for omelette, thinking we would get something similar to the tasty rolls we'd had the previous day in Barra. But this time, the omelette came swimming in oil, served with strongly flavoured fried onions, accompanied again by two loaves. JD looked panic-stricken - wet food and onions! A double-whammy! We did our best to remove the oil from the omelette and I made a fried onion sandwich with the bread, but we knew we could not eat it all! We felt terribly guilty, leaving food in a country where so many go hungry. However, we needn't have worried. We explained that we did not usually eat such large portions, especially at breakfast, and asked if anyone would like some. As the usual Gambian habit is to share one large bowl of food, our offer was accepted as the norm and the food did not go to waste. In fact, we began to wonder if we should have offered to share in the first place!
Children began to arrive at school around 7.30, ready to start at 8am. Many have to walk from neighbouring villages, the lucky ones arrive packed into the back of a van or on a donkey cart. Most had some kind of bag with their exercise book and pencil inside and a prayer mat, plus a scarf for the girls. School uniform is compulsory - it fits where it touches - and it's obvious that most outfits have served several members of the family. They wear flip flops or sometimes plastic jelly sandals and their legs are caked in dust from the walk to school.
Before lessons begin, some of the children tend the school's vegetable garden, diligently watering , raking and weeding. They have young banana trees, onions, lettuces and tomatoes which are grown from seeds provided by HELPING and go to supplement school meals.
I had promised to take photos for the HELPING website, but as I approached the garden, the children spotted my camera and I was soon mobbed by grinning students!
JD and I set out our things in the library once again and spend a couple of hours taking small groups of students for 20 - 30 minutes at a time, working on reading, comprehension and maths games. JD found he felt much more confident teaching maths and we used bits and pieces brought from home to make the learning fun. We had a set of pick-up-sticks, dice and playing cards which we built numeracy games around. The children took a while to grasp the idea, being accustomed to learning by rote or copying exercises from the board. Lacking a blackboard in the library, we used chalk to draw on the wooden tables!
The children have a break around 11am when the school kitchen serves big bowls of rice and dribbles of sauce which the children share, sitting on the ground.
Those who have money can buy a loaf filled with stewed beans, fishballs or peanuts from a small group of village women who set up their pots in the school yard. Fishballs cost two dalasis each, a bean-stew sandwich or pack of peanuts costs one dalasi. (There were 50 dalasis to the pound.)
We discovered that this was when Gambians ate their breakfast and Sainey had cooked a bowl of rice with a fish for the teachers to share. Every time the adults ate, JD and I were invited to share, regardless of whether we had just eaten our own meal! The Gambians separated out the nicest pieces of fish for us and placed them in the section of the bowl nearest to us. We knew it was considered bad manner to reach across the bowl into someone else's section! Although we were still full from breakfast, we took a few mouthfuls to be polite. We had the strong impression it would be considered quite rude to refuse.
Mr Njie, who is the link teacher for the HELPING sponsored children, invited us to visit his village, Pakau Penku, but was worried it would be too far for us to walk as he knew British people usually travelled by car. Initially, we too were worried as the temperature was about 90 degrees and we had only brought a limited supply of bottled water with us. We had visions of a trek taking a couple of hours so we asked him how far away his village was. "One and a half kilometres," he replied, and we breathed a sigh of relief!
We set off along dusty narrow paths between village homes. Each house in the outer parts of the village had its own patch of land enclosed by a fence or hedge - a compound. As we passed different families' compounds, we were waved at, called out to and generally created a bit of a stir! We gathered a small entourage of children, eager to walk with us.
We passed the village's pump-handled well where the cows gathered and Mr Njie proudly showed us the raised metal water tank which is filled by a solar powered pump from a borehold and which feeds the village taps. After a few minutes walking, the path joined the main dirt road which was wide enough for lorries.
As we neared Pakau Penku, Mr Njie greeted everyone he met and introduced us. We felt like celebrities. He took us to his compound where we met his wife Sally, daughter of the village chief, and their children.
Sally was very keen to cook for us but we had to refuse as politely as possible, explaining that we had already eaten two lunches! Sally herself did not speak English but Mr Njie's English was perfect and he acted as our translator. We discussed politics and local news, the Gambian school system etc.
Next, he took us to meet a woman who was a key member of the school management committee. Her compound was quite large and contained a cow, a few sheep and two dogs chained up. She had been shelling peanuts, not expecting guests, and so was bare-breasted - JD was a little embarrassed! She disappeared into her house and re-emerged wearing a t-shirt, offering her apologies via Mr Njie. We paid our respects and as we left, she gave us a large bag of peanuts as a gift.
We were taken to meet the Imam and Alkalo and other important people in the village before we headed back to Pakau Njogu to find school almost finished for the day.
When Sainey brought our dinner that day - the aforementioned chicken stewed with onions and served with rice and bread - she presented us with spoons! By this time, we were feeling more relaxed and at home in the village and asked if there would be football on TV that night. Indeed there was, and one of the teachers said he would put out two chairs in a good position for us as we were guests of honour! So we joined the menfolk to watch the match - twenty-odd men watching soccer together and not a beer in sight! The sense of community was heart-warming.
After the match, the village men drifted off to their homes, leaving the teachers to have their communal dinner which, of course, we were again invited to share. One of the young teachers named Moussa lent me his mobile phone so I could call home.
I woke several times during the night, panicking about what activities JD and I would do with the children. At one point, I got up to visit the bathroom - quite a palaver to untangle the mossie net tucked under my mattress, find the torch and loo roll and unbolt the metal door. By that time, the solar power had run out, so I stumbled into the alleyway behind the teachers housing block, disturbing a sleeping chicken whose legs were tied together. It squawked and flapped awkwardly away. Only later did it dawn on me that the bird would be that night's dinner!
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| Our bathroom |
I was relieved to find that the bathroom had not been invaded by creepy crawlies - I was prepared for an audience of cockroaches! However, our western style 'flush' toilet was not actually plumbed into any water supply and so would only flush if the cistern was manually filled from a bucket each time. It was far easier simply to tip a bucketful of water down the loo instead. The school yard had its own tap and it seemed to be the children's job to fetch water so we were regularly supplied with a fresh bucketful.
We got up about 7am just as it was getting light. To us, it was already hot, but the young teachers who were already up and about outside were huddled around a small charcoal stove, warming their hands! I gave one of them a fleece blanket I had brought with me, thinking it might get chilly at night.
We had intended to buy a Gambian SIM card but were told they were difficult for foreigners to get hold of, so Margaret had left us with her phone with a Gamcel SIM in it. However, the signal on that network was very poor in Pakau so when we tried to make a call, we realised we couldn't get in touch with either Chris and Margaret, the Gambian staff or anyone back in the UK! We realised just how isolated we were in Pakau!
Sainey brought out breakfast - we had asked for omelette, thinking we would get something similar to the tasty rolls we'd had the previous day in Barra. But this time, the omelette came swimming in oil, served with strongly flavoured fried onions, accompanied again by two loaves. JD looked panic-stricken - wet food and onions! A double-whammy! We did our best to remove the oil from the omelette and I made a fried onion sandwich with the bread, but we knew we could not eat it all! We felt terribly guilty, leaving food in a country where so many go hungry. However, we needn't have worried. We explained that we did not usually eat such large portions, especially at breakfast, and asked if anyone would like some. As the usual Gambian habit is to share one large bowl of food, our offer was accepted as the norm and the food did not go to waste. In fact, we began to wonder if we should have offered to share in the first place!
Children began to arrive at school around 7.30, ready to start at 8am. Many have to walk from neighbouring villages, the lucky ones arrive packed into the back of a van or on a donkey cart. Most had some kind of bag with their exercise book and pencil inside and a prayer mat, plus a scarf for the girls. School uniform is compulsory - it fits where it touches - and it's obvious that most outfits have served several members of the family. They wear flip flops or sometimes plastic jelly sandals and their legs are caked in dust from the walk to school.
Before lessons begin, some of the children tend the school's vegetable garden, diligently watering , raking and weeding. They have young banana trees, onions, lettuces and tomatoes which are grown from seeds provided by HELPING and go to supplement school meals.
I had promised to take photos for the HELPING website, but as I approached the garden, the children spotted my camera and I was soon mobbed by grinning students!
JD and I set out our things in the library once again and spend a couple of hours taking small groups of students for 20 - 30 minutes at a time, working on reading, comprehension and maths games. JD found he felt much more confident teaching maths and we used bits and pieces brought from home to make the learning fun. We had a set of pick-up-sticks, dice and playing cards which we built numeracy games around. The children took a while to grasp the idea, being accustomed to learning by rote or copying exercises from the board. Lacking a blackboard in the library, we used chalk to draw on the wooden tables!
The children have a break around 11am when the school kitchen serves big bowls of rice and dribbles of sauce which the children share, sitting on the ground.
Those who have money can buy a loaf filled with stewed beans, fishballs or peanuts from a small group of village women who set up their pots in the school yard. Fishballs cost two dalasis each, a bean-stew sandwich or pack of peanuts costs one dalasi. (There were 50 dalasis to the pound.)
We discovered that this was when Gambians ate their breakfast and Sainey had cooked a bowl of rice with a fish for the teachers to share. Every time the adults ate, JD and I were invited to share, regardless of whether we had just eaten our own meal! The Gambians separated out the nicest pieces of fish for us and placed them in the section of the bowl nearest to us. We knew it was considered bad manner to reach across the bowl into someone else's section! Although we were still full from breakfast, we took a few mouthfuls to be polite. We had the strong impression it would be considered quite rude to refuse.
Mr Njie, who is the link teacher for the HELPING sponsored children, invited us to visit his village, Pakau Penku, but was worried it would be too far for us to walk as he knew British people usually travelled by car. Initially, we too were worried as the temperature was about 90 degrees and we had only brought a limited supply of bottled water with us. We had visions of a trek taking a couple of hours so we asked him how far away his village was. "One and a half kilometres," he replied, and we breathed a sigh of relief!
We set off along dusty narrow paths between village homes. Each house in the outer parts of the village had its own patch of land enclosed by a fence or hedge - a compound. As we passed different families' compounds, we were waved at, called out to and generally created a bit of a stir! We gathered a small entourage of children, eager to walk with us.
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| Mr Njie, local children and JD on the main dirt road between Pakau Njogu and Pakau Penku |
As we neared Pakau Penku, Mr Njie greeted everyone he met and introduced us. We felt like celebrities. He took us to his compound where we met his wife Sally, daughter of the village chief, and their children.
 |
| Mr Njie's family in their home |
Sally was very keen to cook for us but we had to refuse as politely as possible, explaining that we had already eaten two lunches! Sally herself did not speak English but Mr Njie's English was perfect and he acted as our translator. We discussed politics and local news, the Gambian school system etc.
Next, he took us to meet a woman who was a key member of the school management committee. Her compound was quite large and contained a cow, a few sheep and two dogs chained up. She had been shelling peanuts, not expecting guests, and so was bare-breasted - JD was a little embarrassed! She disappeared into her house and re-emerged wearing a t-shirt, offering her apologies via Mr Njie. We paid our respects and as we left, she gave us a large bag of peanuts as a gift.
We were taken to meet the Imam and Alkalo and other important people in the village before we headed back to Pakau Njogu to find school almost finished for the day.
When Sainey brought our dinner that day - the aforementioned chicken stewed with onions and served with rice and bread - she presented us with spoons! By this time, we were feeling more relaxed and at home in the village and asked if there would be football on TV that night. Indeed there was, and one of the teachers said he would put out two chairs in a good position for us as we were guests of honour! So we joined the menfolk to watch the match - twenty-odd men watching soccer together and not a beer in sight! The sense of community was heart-warming.
After the match, the village men drifted off to their homes, leaving the teachers to have their communal dinner which, of course, we were again invited to share. One of the young teachers named Moussa lent me his mobile phone so I could call home.
Thursday 14 February 2013
EXTRACTS FROM A VOLUNTEER'S DIARY - 14th Feb 2012
Tuesday 14 February 2012
We rose early to grab a quick buffet breakfast of bread and fruit in the hotel before being met in the lobby by another British volunteer, Claire, and one of HELPING's staff, Alaghie. They had arrived in a hired minibus, loaded with supplies to take to the North Bank.
HELPING has two vehicles in Gambia, both ancient and extremely well worn. Because of the lengthy waiting times to get a vehicle on a ferry crossing, a decision had been made to leave the Landrover on the North Bank and the Discovery on the South Bank. Chris, Margaret, Gambian staff and any HELPING supporters or volunteers would make the actual ferry crossing as foot passengers, carrying as much as possible by hand. Foot passengers are crammed on to the ferry like the proverbial sardines, but only a very limited number of vehicles are carried on each crossing and it's common to wait several hours for a vehicle space, if not a day or more. However, the Discovery was in a garage waiting to be repaired, hence the hired minibus.
We had been given lots of reading books and stationery to take to Gambia with us, and they accounted for pretty much all of our hold baggage on the plane. We had packed the absolute minimum of clothing, not much more than a couple of t-shirts, shorts and trousers each. We stowed our bags in the minibus and headed towards to ferry terminal in Banjul, stopping to pick up another member of HELPING's staff, Karamo, en route.
In Banjul, we were met by Sarjor, HELPING's main man in Gambia, who bought our tickets, and we waited for the ferry to dock. Tourists and the favoured few get to beat the queue of locals and are admitted into the port area, while the less fortunate wait outside the gates.
So we were lucky to get ourselves seats in the open air on the top deck of the ferry, giving us a bird's eye view of the jigsaw of vehicles piecing itself together on the deck below us.
Finally, the ferry was fully loaded and the crossing itself took about an hour.
We landed in a bustling town called Barra, teeming with vehicles and filled with market stalls. We made our way to where the HELPING Landrover was parked, loaded our gear on board. Sarjor bought sacks of rice paid for by HELPING sponsors and organised their delivery, while Alaghie and Karamo bought supplies of water for us to take to the village so we would not run any risk of upset stomachs from drinking local water. We bought a second breakfast of omelette with ketchup and fried onions in bread rolls - very tasty! We had packed emergency rations back in the UK in the form of cereal bars. My son JD was a still a pretty fussy eater at the age of 17, disliking 'wet' foods and any visible sign of onions, but he ate his omelette sandwich.
We drove out of Barra on a decent tarmac road for several miles before it became an unmetalled surface, albeit quite smooth. However, once we turned off the main road towards Bakalarr and Pakau Njogu, the surface became bumpy and pitted, cows wandered over the roads and as we passed through villages, children raced after the Landrover shouting "Toubob, minty". Toubob means a white person and a minty is a sweet!
We had expected a much longer drive from Barra but after about an hour and a quarter, we arrived in Pakau Njogu and drove straight into the school grounds which are walled but have no gate. The school appeared to be the heart of the village and unlike British schools, people are free to walk round the grounds, as do the village sheep, cows and donkeys!
We were greeted by numerous teaching staff and village officials and were quickly overwhelmed by the sea of new faces, unfamiliar names and titles. We were invited in to the Headmaster's small office where we wat on wooden benches while he made a speech of welcome and introduced us to his key members of staff. One of the teachers, a woman named Sainey, was appointed to take care of us and cook our meals for which we agreed to pay 500 dalasis a day (about £10.50). The Head, Mr Mahmoud, gave us African names - I became Sainey 2 and JD was renamed Moussa 2 after the Chairman of the School Management Committee!
Outside, the village dignitaries had gathered in the shade of a large tree on an assortment of wooden benches and plastic chairs. We were ushered outside and began to realise that this gathering was in our honour. Everyone who was anyone in the village had turned up to greet and welcome us. Several people made speeches, some in English and some with a translator. Even the Alkalo - the village chief - was there to meet us. We felt humbled and completely overwhelmed.
It became apparent that the Gambian people truly love making speeches and that a suitable response is expected. I thanked the village and school for welcoming us so warmly and after much ceremony, the gathering began to disperse.
Without our noticing, the rice purchased in Barra had arrived, so we busied ourselves with distributing it to each of the sponsored children and taking their photographs. The rice donations are timed to be delivered during the gap between the peanut harvest going to market and the proceeds coming back to the farmers. They are an absolute life-line to many families and very gratefully received.
Then it was time to see where we would be living for the next few days. Mr Mahmoud had graciously given up his accommodation for us - the end house in a row of single-storey staff houses which was twice the size of the other houses, having two bedrooms, a long front room running the width of the house, two windows at the front, and heavy metal doors both front and back. Furniture in the living room was sparse - a couple of wooden chair frames with no seats or backs, a simple bench and a mat. However, each bedroom had a double-sized wooden bed with a foam mattress. Claire had brought mosquito nets for us and these were hung from the metal roof rafters.
Claire, Sarjor, Alaghie and Karamo needed to move on to the next village to supervise rice deliveries, so after a brief farewell, JD and I found ourselves in the middle of rural Gambia surrounded by strangers. I must admit to feeling a rising sense of panic at that point!
We unpacked our bags and handed over the school supplies we had brought with us, then explored the school's library of which Mr Mahmoud was rightly proud. It was a large room with shelves filled with donated books at both ends. There were no glass windows, just simple openings in the walls to allow in light and air, so the books and desks inside were covered in dust.
JD and I discussed a plan of action and quickly decided we would not be able to cope with a full class of 60 youngsters! Instead, we suggested to Mr Mahmoud that we could take small groups of half a dozen children each at a time and see how well they could read.
These were the afternoon children, the oldest in the school, at Grades 5 and 6. Their ages ranged widely due to the Gambian education system whereby there is no automatic progression to the next grade - it depends on achievement. So a dozen shy but very excited students were brought in to the library where we waited with some of the reading scheme books we had brought with us.
It turned out their reading was pretty good but their understanding less so. Gambian children are educated in English but speak their local language at home and the older people in the village speak no English at all. And it became obvious quite quickly that our English accents were difficult for them to understand! But they seemed to enjoy our more intimate Western 'teaching' style where we sat around a table together, rather than having a teacher at the front of the classroom all the time.
School finished around 5.45pm and the children drifted off home. We returned to our temporary home and sat outside with some of the teachers who live at the school, chatting and getting to know one another.
Sainey had asked us what we wanted for our dinner. We had no idea what she would be able to buy in Pakau but from previous experience travelling in Africa, I knew that chicken and chips was available pretty much everywhere! So we asked for that, thinking it a safe option. Sainey looked troubled and said she was not sure if she could get a chicken - she would send a child to find out if anyone had one for sale! After a while, word came back that a chicken was available and she would cook it for us the next night. She suggested corned beef, rice and peanut sauce for that evening.
While she cooked, we were summoned to Mr Mahmoud's office! He asked us to let him have our timetable of what subjects we wanted to teach when and to what grade children! That definitely raised our stress levels! Neither of us were trained teachers although I had experience as a teaching assistant with children with special needs. We said we would like to observe some lessons initially (stalling for time!) and then continue with small group work, focusing on the weaker children and concentrating on literacy and numeracy.
Sainey brought our dinner to our door - a large dish covered with a second dish with two loaves similar to half-baguettes. We ate Gambian style, with our fingers, right hands only. However, the Gambians are much more skilled, scooping a handful or rice with a little sauce from a large communal bowl and squeezing it in their palm before tipping it into their mouths. We were far messier, spilling rice all down ourselves, much to their amusement!
The teachers all ate together, first washing their hands with water from a small plastic teapot, then again after eating.
It grew dark about 7.45. Luckily, the school has a couple of solar panels which power bulbs and sockets until the power runs out late at night, but there were no outside lights and people use torches. We had remembered to bring our own with us.
At the far end of the teachers housing block, the school's 12" portable TV had been brought outside and set on a table and a crowd of 20 - 30 men from the village were watching football. We joined them for a while before heading to bed around 9pm, exhausted. Once the lights were out, it was pitch black and really hot. We'd been advised to close the metal shutters on our glassless windows to keep out rats so there was no airflow. We slept without sheets or blankets under our mosquito nets.
We rose early to grab a quick buffet breakfast of bread and fruit in the hotel before being met in the lobby by another British volunteer, Claire, and one of HELPING's staff, Alaghie. They had arrived in a hired minibus, loaded with supplies to take to the North Bank.
HELPING has two vehicles in Gambia, both ancient and extremely well worn. Because of the lengthy waiting times to get a vehicle on a ferry crossing, a decision had been made to leave the Landrover on the North Bank and the Discovery on the South Bank. Chris, Margaret, Gambian staff and any HELPING supporters or volunteers would make the actual ferry crossing as foot passengers, carrying as much as possible by hand. Foot passengers are crammed on to the ferry like the proverbial sardines, but only a very limited number of vehicles are carried on each crossing and it's common to wait several hours for a vehicle space, if not a day or more. However, the Discovery was in a garage waiting to be repaired, hence the hired minibus.
We had been given lots of reading books and stationery to take to Gambia with us, and they accounted for pretty much all of our hold baggage on the plane. We had packed the absolute minimum of clothing, not much more than a couple of t-shirts, shorts and trousers each. We stowed our bags in the minibus and headed towards to ferry terminal in Banjul, stopping to pick up another member of HELPING's staff, Karamo, en route.
In Banjul, we were met by Sarjor, HELPING's main man in Gambia, who bought our tickets, and we waited for the ferry to dock. Tourists and the favoured few get to beat the queue of locals and are admitted into the port area, while the less fortunate wait outside the gates.
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| Claire buys bracelets at the ferry port |
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| Foot passengers wait for vehicles to disembark |
Finally, the ferry was fully loaded and the crossing itself took about an hour.
We landed in a bustling town called Barra, teeming with vehicles and filled with market stalls. We made our way to where the HELPING Landrover was parked, loaded our gear on board. Sarjor bought sacks of rice paid for by HELPING sponsors and organised their delivery, while Alaghie and Karamo bought supplies of water for us to take to the village so we would not run any risk of upset stomachs from drinking local water. We bought a second breakfast of omelette with ketchup and fried onions in bread rolls - very tasty! We had packed emergency rations back in the UK in the form of cereal bars. My son JD was a still a pretty fussy eater at the age of 17, disliking 'wet' foods and any visible sign of onions, but he ate his omelette sandwich.
We drove out of Barra on a decent tarmac road for several miles before it became an unmetalled surface, albeit quite smooth. However, once we turned off the main road towards Bakalarr and Pakau Njogu, the surface became bumpy and pitted, cows wandered over the roads and as we passed through villages, children raced after the Landrover shouting "Toubob, minty". Toubob means a white person and a minty is a sweet!
We had expected a much longer drive from Barra but after about an hour and a quarter, we arrived in Pakau Njogu and drove straight into the school grounds which are walled but have no gate. The school appeared to be the heart of the village and unlike British schools, people are free to walk round the grounds, as do the village sheep, cows and donkeys!
We were greeted by numerous teaching staff and village officials and were quickly overwhelmed by the sea of new faces, unfamiliar names and titles. We were invited in to the Headmaster's small office where we wat on wooden benches while he made a speech of welcome and introduced us to his key members of staff. One of the teachers, a woman named Sainey, was appointed to take care of us and cook our meals for which we agreed to pay 500 dalasis a day (about £10.50). The Head, Mr Mahmoud, gave us African names - I became Sainey 2 and JD was renamed Moussa 2 after the Chairman of the School Management Committee!
Outside, the village dignitaries had gathered in the shade of a large tree on an assortment of wooden benches and plastic chairs. We were ushered outside and began to realise that this gathering was in our honour. Everyone who was anyone in the village had turned up to greet and welcome us. Several people made speeches, some in English and some with a translator. Even the Alkalo - the village chief - was there to meet us. We felt humbled and completely overwhelmed.
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| The Alkalo of Pakau Njogu |
It became apparent that the Gambian people truly love making speeches and that a suitable response is expected. I thanked the village and school for welcoming us so warmly and after much ceremony, the gathering began to disperse.
Without our noticing, the rice purchased in Barra had arrived, so we busied ourselves with distributing it to each of the sponsored children and taking their photographs. The rice donations are timed to be delivered during the gap between the peanut harvest going to market and the proceeds coming back to the farmers. They are an absolute life-line to many families and very gratefully received.
Then it was time to see where we would be living for the next few days. Mr Mahmoud had graciously given up his accommodation for us - the end house in a row of single-storey staff houses which was twice the size of the other houses, having two bedrooms, a long front room running the width of the house, two windows at the front, and heavy metal doors both front and back. Furniture in the living room was sparse - a couple of wooden chair frames with no seats or backs, a simple bench and a mat. However, each bedroom had a double-sized wooden bed with a foam mattress. Claire had brought mosquito nets for us and these were hung from the metal roof rafters.
Claire, Sarjor, Alaghie and Karamo needed to move on to the next village to supervise rice deliveries, so after a brief farewell, JD and I found ourselves in the middle of rural Gambia surrounded by strangers. I must admit to feeling a rising sense of panic at that point!
JD and I discussed a plan of action and quickly decided we would not be able to cope with a full class of 60 youngsters! Instead, we suggested to Mr Mahmoud that we could take small groups of half a dozen children each at a time and see how well they could read.
These were the afternoon children, the oldest in the school, at Grades 5 and 6. Their ages ranged widely due to the Gambian education system whereby there is no automatic progression to the next grade - it depends on achievement. So a dozen shy but very excited students were brought in to the library where we waited with some of the reading scheme books we had brought with us.
It turned out their reading was pretty good but their understanding less so. Gambian children are educated in English but speak their local language at home and the older people in the village speak no English at all. And it became obvious quite quickly that our English accents were difficult for them to understand! But they seemed to enjoy our more intimate Western 'teaching' style where we sat around a table together, rather than having a teacher at the front of the classroom all the time.
School finished around 5.45pm and the children drifted off home. We returned to our temporary home and sat outside with some of the teachers who live at the school, chatting and getting to know one another.
Sainey had asked us what we wanted for our dinner. We had no idea what she would be able to buy in Pakau but from previous experience travelling in Africa, I knew that chicken and chips was available pretty much everywhere! So we asked for that, thinking it a safe option. Sainey looked troubled and said she was not sure if she could get a chicken - she would send a child to find out if anyone had one for sale! After a while, word came back that a chicken was available and she would cook it for us the next night. She suggested corned beef, rice and peanut sauce for that evening.
While she cooked, we were summoned to Mr Mahmoud's office! He asked us to let him have our timetable of what subjects we wanted to teach when and to what grade children! That definitely raised our stress levels! Neither of us were trained teachers although I had experience as a teaching assistant with children with special needs. We said we would like to observe some lessons initially (stalling for time!) and then continue with small group work, focusing on the weaker children and concentrating on literacy and numeracy.
Sainey brought our dinner to our door - a large dish covered with a second dish with two loaves similar to half-baguettes. We ate Gambian style, with our fingers, right hands only. However, the Gambians are much more skilled, scooping a handful or rice with a little sauce from a large communal bowl and squeezing it in their palm before tipping it into their mouths. We were far messier, spilling rice all down ourselves, much to their amusement!
The teachers all ate together, first washing their hands with water from a small plastic teapot, then again after eating.
It grew dark about 7.45. Luckily, the school has a couple of solar panels which power bulbs and sockets until the power runs out late at night, but there were no outside lights and people use torches. We had remembered to bring our own with us.
At the far end of the teachers housing block, the school's 12" portable TV had been brought outside and set on a table and a crowd of 20 - 30 men from the village were watching football. We joined them for a while before heading to bed around 9pm, exhausted. Once the lights were out, it was pitch black and really hot. We'd been advised to close the metal shutters on our glassless windows to keep out rats so there was no airflow. We slept without sheets or blankets under our mosquito nets.
Wednesday 13 February 2013
EXTRACTS FROM A VOLUNTEER'S DIARY - Feb 13th, 2012
This time last year, my son and I flew out to Gambia to work as volunteers in one of the schools supported by HELPING. At the time, he was 17 and I was 50.
On our return, many people wanted to know what it was like to live in a village, albeit only for a few days. Many sponsors are interested in visiting the child or children they sponsor and some are tempted to help in a school but are unsure of how or where they might live while doing so, or how exactly they might help in the classroom.
What follows here, and to come over the next few days, are extracts from the diary I kept of our week in the Gambia last February half-term. I hope it may entice some of you to make a similar trip one day!
Monday 13 February 2012
Up at 2.45 am for the six-and-a-half hour flight from Gatwick to Banjul. We had booked the cheapest package holiday we could find - cheaper than booking flights alone - so our holiday company delivered us by coach transfer to the Golden Beach Hotel in Bijilo on the southern stretch of the tourist areas on the Gambian coast.
After unpacking, we texted Chris and Margaret who were already in the country, based at a budget hotel on the Senegambia strip - the main tourist street. They came to our hotel to meet us, and after a quick drink and a catch-up chat, we took a taxi to Senegambia to visit the HELPING office which was based in the same premises as a money exchange and food shop. Having changed up some cash, we spent our first evening with Chris and Margaret, eating together at a restaurant called African Queen. We could have opted for more familiar choices like pizza or Chinese food but we were eager for our first taste of Gambian cooking - chicken domada (served in a peanut sauce) with benachin rice. We were careful with hygiene as we didn't want to risk getting ill with only a week in the country - we didn't want to lose time confined to a room, tied to a toilet! So we were equipped with baby wipes and hand sanitiser gel and took the usual precautions of avoiding ice in drinks and buying bottled water.
Over dinner, we made plans for the week to come. Being restricted by flights only going to and from Gambia on certain days, and limited to the half-term holiday period, we would be able to spend Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday morning experiencing the real Gambia before returning to our hotel for a weekend of 'holiday'. Chris and Margaret had arranged with the headmaster of Pakau Njogu school that we could borrow his home during our stay and he would move in with a friend. HELPING had built a staff accommodation block at Pakau to attract teachers to the remote village location, so we knew there would be a secure, solidly built room for us with a bathroom just outside, complete with western-style toilet.
Holiday reps and guide books advise you steer clear of the local yellow and green 'tanka-tanka' taxis which are often shared with other passengers, and to stick with green 'tourist' taxis. I have to say that we used both types and there was nothing wrong with the tanka-tankas which were cheaper and often in better condition than tourist taxis. But the tanka-tankas drive along the main routes only - a bit like bus routes - which is fine once you've got your bearings! There are no bus services as such, but 'bush taxis' operate on fixed routes - these are mini-buses which will get crammed full to bursting - very cheap but probably best avoided unless you really know your way around or have a local guide with you.
So, we took a taxi back to our hotel and prepared for an early start the next morning when we would cross the river and head into the North Bank.
On our return, many people wanted to know what it was like to live in a village, albeit only for a few days. Many sponsors are interested in visiting the child or children they sponsor and some are tempted to help in a school but are unsure of how or where they might live while doing so, or how exactly they might help in the classroom.
What follows here, and to come over the next few days, are extracts from the diary I kept of our week in the Gambia last February half-term. I hope it may entice some of you to make a similar trip one day!
Monday 13 February 2012
Up at 2.45 am for the six-and-a-half hour flight from Gatwick to Banjul. We had booked the cheapest package holiday we could find - cheaper than booking flights alone - so our holiday company delivered us by coach transfer to the Golden Beach Hotel in Bijilo on the southern stretch of the tourist areas on the Gambian coast.
After unpacking, we texted Chris and Margaret who were already in the country, based at a budget hotel on the Senegambia strip - the main tourist street. They came to our hotel to meet us, and after a quick drink and a catch-up chat, we took a taxi to Senegambia to visit the HELPING office which was based in the same premises as a money exchange and food shop. Having changed up some cash, we spent our first evening with Chris and Margaret, eating together at a restaurant called African Queen. We could have opted for more familiar choices like pizza or Chinese food but we were eager for our first taste of Gambian cooking - chicken domada (served in a peanut sauce) with benachin rice. We were careful with hygiene as we didn't want to risk getting ill with only a week in the country - we didn't want to lose time confined to a room, tied to a toilet! So we were equipped with baby wipes and hand sanitiser gel and took the usual precautions of avoiding ice in drinks and buying bottled water.
Over dinner, we made plans for the week to come. Being restricted by flights only going to and from Gambia on certain days, and limited to the half-term holiday period, we would be able to spend Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday morning experiencing the real Gambia before returning to our hotel for a weekend of 'holiday'. Chris and Margaret had arranged with the headmaster of Pakau Njogu school that we could borrow his home during our stay and he would move in with a friend. HELPING had built a staff accommodation block at Pakau to attract teachers to the remote village location, so we knew there would be a secure, solidly built room for us with a bathroom just outside, complete with western-style toilet.
Holiday reps and guide books advise you steer clear of the local yellow and green 'tanka-tanka' taxis which are often shared with other passengers, and to stick with green 'tourist' taxis. I have to say that we used both types and there was nothing wrong with the tanka-tankas which were cheaper and often in better condition than tourist taxis. But the tanka-tankas drive along the main routes only - a bit like bus routes - which is fine once you've got your bearings! There are no bus services as such, but 'bush taxis' operate on fixed routes - these are mini-buses which will get crammed full to bursting - very cheap but probably best avoided unless you really know your way around or have a local guide with you.
So, we took a taxi back to our hotel and prepared for an early start the next morning when we would cross the river and head into the North Bank.
Thursday 7 February 2013
FERRY TROUBLES
Our team currently working in Gambia are being hampered by the incredibly slow ferry service across the river.
Roy Richardson, recently returned to the UK, reports that a one way crossing is taking FIVE HOURS as a foot passenger. The long wait for a vehicle space on the ferry makes it totally impractical to try taking the HELPING landrover across.
As our projects are located on the poorer, non-tourist North Bank, the limited ferry service makes life difficult not only for locals but for Chris and Margaret and our Gambian staff when they are visiting HELPING's supported schools and other enterprises.
The charity is currently in the process of building a basic accommodation block on the North Bank to try to alleviate these problems. This will eventually allow HELPING staff and volunteers to stay overnight on the North side where there are no tourist hotels available. At the moment, people have to rush their visit to ensure they catch the last ferry back to their hotels in the tourist areas.
The only alternative way to cross the river is by pirogue which is certainly quicker but pretty risky. There are no life jackets and health & safety is an unknown concept! I've posted a video taken last February which shows how local people get to and from the pirogues, as there are no piers or jetties! Apologies for the wobbly camera work - the video was shot from a fair distance away on a long lens.
Roy Richardson, recently returned to the UK, reports that a one way crossing is taking FIVE HOURS as a foot passenger. The long wait for a vehicle space on the ferry makes it totally impractical to try taking the HELPING landrover across.
As our projects are located on the poorer, non-tourist North Bank, the limited ferry service makes life difficult not only for locals but for Chris and Margaret and our Gambian staff when they are visiting HELPING's supported schools and other enterprises.
The charity is currently in the process of building a basic accommodation block on the North Bank to try to alleviate these problems. This will eventually allow HELPING staff and volunteers to stay overnight on the North side where there are no tourist hotels available. At the moment, people have to rush their visit to ensure they catch the last ferry back to their hotels in the tourist areas.
The only alternative way to cross the river is by pirogue which is certainly quicker but pretty risky. There are no life jackets and health & safety is an unknown concept! I've posted a video taken last February which shows how local people get to and from the pirogues, as there are no piers or jetties! Apologies for the wobbly camera work - the video was shot from a fair distance away on a long lens.
Tuesday 5 February 2013
NEW LAMPS FOR OLD
HELPING has learned of tragic cases where candles have set light to beds and then the roof, resulting in terrible injuries and sometimes deaths.
One of our community projects is to buy battery-powered lanterns to reduce these risks. Curiously, batteries cost roughly the same to buy as candles, so if HELPING provides the lamps, the running cost to families is the same as candlepower.
Our picture shows Chris and Margaret with Gambian members of the team, delivering 150 lamps to the village of Chessay Ma Jaw.
LIFE'S A BEACH .....
Essa spends most of his time at the beach. Sounds like a pretty good life, doesn't it? A lot of British 19-year olds would probably love to spend endless days on a Gambian beach!
But for Essa, it's not really a choice, it's a necessity. He walks the tourist beaches all day long during the holiday season in baking temperatures, trying to sell the trinkets his grandfather taught him to make. He has to watch out for the local police who would move him on for "bothering" tourists.
Essa was forced to leave school at the age of 12 when his father could no longer pay his school fees. As his father is too sick to work, Essa has the responsibility to earn whatever he can to support his entire family. He is the sole income-earner in his family. If he does not sell his wares, his family does not eat.
It's too late for Essa to go back to school to complete his education, but HELPING sponsors are keeping other young people in education so their opportunities in life are improved.
The temperature in Banjul today reached 97 degrees Fahrenheit (36C). Spare a thought for Essa and the many others like him who have little choice but to walk the beaches all day long, trying to sell souvenirs to tourists.
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