This photograph shows the road entering my village. Dry grasses crowd the sandy road. The cow crossing the path in the distance is evidence that this is a Fula village. Fulas are traditionally cattle herders, which means they were wide in their movement across West Africa. Today, they are settled in permanent villages, but many individuals still herd cattle. Farming (rice, coos, maize), is the main occupation now.
As a PCV, during the first three months in village, you are not supposed to embark on projects or do any real "work." It is called the "three month challenge" because it is the most intensive period of cultural integration and language learning. This time is crucial to get to know the community, learn what they have and do not have, and think about what knowledge would be beneficial to their lives. We are encouraged to develop project ideas and wait to implement them until we have a better understanding and grasp of the village. The most important activity during this time is building friendships with those in the village. Without these connections and village understanding, any project would be a failure.
I have spent much of my time visiting and hanging out in all of the compounds in my village. I sit beside the women while they prepare and cook lunch and dinner attempting to communicate in my broken Pulaar. Though I tend to speak in all of the wrong verb tenses and my sentences are jumbled, I can usually get my thought across. All of the villagers have been so patient and instructive with my language. While chatting, I usually shell peanuts, cracking them against a hard stone. The women, however, never let me crack peanuts for too long because they say it will hurt my fingers. They describe how they do not want my hands to become rough like theirs. Peanuts were harvested in December and January so since I have been here, peanut shelling seems to be a never-ending activity. Once shelled, many Gambians sell the peanuts at the markets for eventual export. Peanuts are Gambia's main crop and export. Also, a significant amount of the peanuts are kept for cooking in all of the meals.
This is Porti, a village elder, cracking peanuts during the afternoon. Seated on a rice bag under the shade of his roof overhang, he grabs peanuts from the orange bucket, cracks them, and then throws them into the pile by his leg. I spend much time in his compound with his two wives and their children. He somehow knows a little English and always attempts to speak English with me, which is amazing and hilarious.
Images from the Village:
Right now, in the months leading up to the rainy season, is the time for house and compound construction. This work is only done by men. Here a handful of men from the village are helping in the compound next to mine with hut roof construction. They will soon place this on top of the round hut in the background and then cover it with dry grass.
This is my sister's son, Ebrima. He is wearing my father's hat, which my father wears all the time even in 120 degree weather. Similar to women wearing headscarves, older men wear hats for religious purposes. Ebrima and my father are very close as they spend most of the day together. Grandparents call their grandchildren their husbands or wives so my father calls Ebrima "gorko," which means husband in Pulaar. Ebrima is also my shadow when I walk around the village and I can also always bribe him with treats.
These ladies are fetching water at the pump, which is only about 50 feet from my compound. I can finally carry water in a bucket on my head fairly successfully and the villagers are impressed. My sister is carrying the bucket on the left. She is around 8 months pregnant and continues with all of the work of the compound. Pregnant women get no breaks, which leads to a high maternal mortality rate and the high rate of anemia.
This is my wife, Fatoumatta, preparing fish with Hawa for lunch in our compound. Every morning my father rises early and bikes to the river, which is about 3K away, to buy fish from the fishermen. He then bikes to surrounding villages to sell the fish from the back of his bicycle. But before he travels to the other villages, he stops in our compound and hands Fatoumatta a string of fish for lunch. She brings him a tin cup with water to drink and to splash on the fish in his basket on his bike. We exchange the morning greetings and he continues on his way. He usually returns between 11-12:00 and will immediately start brewing his attaya.
Kids in our compound dancing, which is usually an hourly activity.
Right now, in the months leading up to the rainy season, is the time for house and compound construction. This work is only done by men. Here a handful of men from the village are helping in the compound next to mine with hut roof construction. They will soon place this on top of the round hut in the background and then cover it with dry grass.
This is my sister's son, Ebrima. He is wearing my father's hat, which my father wears all the time even in 120 degree weather. Similar to women wearing headscarves, older men wear hats for religious purposes. Ebrima and my father are very close as they spend most of the day together. Grandparents call their grandchildren their husbands or wives so my father calls Ebrima "gorko," which means husband in Pulaar. Ebrima is also my shadow when I walk around the village and I can also always bribe him with treats.
These ladies are fetching water at the pump, which is only about 50 feet from my compound. I can finally carry water in a bucket on my head fairly successfully and the villagers are impressed. My sister is carrying the bucket on the left. She is around 8 months pregnant and continues with all of the work of the compound. Pregnant women get no breaks, which leads to a high maternal mortality rate and the high rate of anemia.
This is my wife, Fatoumatta, preparing fish with Hawa for lunch in our compound. Every morning my father rises early and bikes to the river, which is about 3K away, to buy fish from the fishermen. He then bikes to surrounding villages to sell the fish from the back of his bicycle. But before he travels to the other villages, he stops in our compound and hands Fatoumatta a string of fish for lunch. She brings him a tin cup with water to drink and to splash on the fish in his basket on his bike. We exchange the morning greetings and he continues on his way. He usually returns between 11-12:00 and will immediately start brewing his attaya.
Kids in our compound dancing, which is usually an hourly activity.
Ms. Fern, I love your blog, its very informative. :)
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