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.
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| 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.
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