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.  

Claire buys bracelets at the ferry port

Foot passengers wait for vehicles to disembark

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.

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!

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.