I reached the end of my journal from my trip. It's been interesting to read it again as i've typed it up for the blog.
I realized i didn't write about some things --including, for example, the crocodiles--so i will write about those and about some of the pictures i have that don't exactly match the text that's already up.
It seems odd that a month ago i was in Africa. . . that i really did have these experiences.
Monday, September 15, 2008
18 August 2008
18 August 2008
Came back yesterday. Still feeling slightly off as far as time goes. But I wanted to finish writing about the end of my journey.
To go back to where I left off at the airport, I was talking about my final day.
The morning I wrote. Ate lunch by myself and then sat in the yard with all the people going about their afternoon. I felt slightly isolated, but after the “sun moved a little,” Libon and I walked over to Isha and Seny’s.
There was a very large presence for the understanding and feeling that it was the last visit I would be making there.
Seny yelled to me out the house door and he came out drinking the home-remedy I had seen Isha make a few days before (for a cold). It was the juice of limes and lemons with mint candies in it. Tea was boiling I na pot on their stove as well. I guess he was still feeling sick.
Making me close my eyes, Isha gave me a necklace of hers. That necklace was continuing its journey from Sierra Leone through Guinea and the Gambia (and now on to America).
I was touched by the gift.
It was a sad day, everyone remarked. I enjoyed my last time of sitting, talking, etc. I’m sad to leave that life.
When Libon said in his regular questioning, “we go?” I answered with my regular answer, “okay.” And I think there was something reassuring in that banter. Leaving though was tough. Hugs and promises of seeing each other again.
Isha walked out of the compound like she had when we had left previously. Walking, holding my hand, down the road slightly, until the bend. Then it really was goodbye.
And then a silent, heavy walk home.
I gathered my things and then the cab was there to take me to the airport. The rain started coming on the way and it was as Isha predicted. Crazy rain came as we approached the airport. It wasn’t until we had arrived, that Libon realized his watch was off.
While we waited to be allowed to check in, the power went out a number of times at the Airport. It was not busy or crowded. There were only a handful of people, and some of them employees that were napping. People started coming. A woman sat down next to me who was actually a teacher from New York (I found out as I had been talking to Libon about going back to school).
The power going on and off was interesting. Not like in America, Libon asked.
Eventually, I was able to check in so that was it.
After sitting in the Banjul waiting area for a long time, and watching some weight-lifting Olympic highlights, finally we were called to go to the bus.
I realized I didn’t have a seat number, but everyone else did not as well. So after the bus pulled up to take us and we were entering the plane—it turned out to be a sit wherever type of situation. That was interesting.
They handed out the immigration forms before landing which made sense and would have been helpful on the to-Africa flight.
In Senegal, I felt more confident since I knew I had to go through the line and pick up my luggage. And I was relieved to see my djembe come off the plane.
So I got my luggage and awkwardly carried it to the other part of the building. It was very busy but I felt good seeing Delta representatives. I was stopped before making the line even thought there seemed to me to be space to go through the rope and stand in line. The manager came after like 10 minutes and said that the flight was overbooked. This was a fact I couldn’t understand. I was bewildered and didn’t know what that would turn out to mean. My mind immediately shifted to fears of being stuck for an unknown length of time in the Senegal airport.
Luckily he went over to the South African airline and checked on their flight to Dulles. He luckily noticed that I was going from New York to DC. While I wasn’t thrilled about IAD, it would mean I’d get to VA and not be in the Senegal airport.
So luckily, he was able to switch me to the one seat left. I then had to be in line for that flight. The man asked me a series of questions about packing my bag and some other about my electronics that I didn’t quite understand.
Then another person had to rifle through my bad. He was slightly perplexed by my backpack, since it didn’t open up like suitcases. And by my drum which was wrapped with tape. I think he gave up and waved me on.
Then I got my bags checked and a boarding pass. That led me to waiting at the immigration line. At that point I started getting worried that I wouldn’t make it in time to get on my new flight. Again I was worried that I’d be stuck in Senegal. People going to Madrid were being waved ahead but I had only 10 minutes until the time marked on my boarding pass, and no announcements were being made for me.
The line moved slowly and then there was a line to go through the metal detector. Then I scooted through Salon A to B. I went to the counter that was on my boarding pass but was waved on to the other counter. Getting to the right one, I was then told I had to have my carry-on bag checked. Then some more people came behind me for the same flight, but I was still worried about time.
That security man shook my malaria pills and bag but I was then allowed to board the bus—to the left, not the right—for the flight. I sat there for awhile but figured I was at least with other passengers at that point.
Eventually we pulled away and up to a huge plane. I was in row 48 and in the middle. 2 – 4 – 2 rows of seats and me in the middle of the 4. And row 48 was in the middle. It was huge.
Getting in with and already fully flight was a bit of a challenge. But got there and felt better.
Watched the Spiderwick Cronicles on the personal screen on the back of the chair in front of me.
Slept. Ate. Watched Step Up 2 and 7 hours later we were landing at Dulles.
Then we were herded into a weird train-like car to go to immigration. Stood in line. Waited for my luggage. It took a long time. It was an exciting even that both were there. Then stood in another long line to exit that area.
It was difficult to carry all of the stuff so instead of trying the bus-to-metro thing, I went to supershuttle to get home.
A long right to the DCA airport and through Capital Hill to get me home finally.
On the flight, I had a lot of movie options. There was one about a kid in South Africa which I thought I would enjoy watching. But after turning it on, I realized I was emotional about leaving and about finishing my adventure, so I couldn’t watch that movie. So like I’ve said before, there are reasons for being happy to be back, but also for staying. It’s a huge event.
I’m so glad I had this opportunity. I hope I’ll be able to return some day.
ak
Came back yesterday. Still feeling slightly off as far as time goes. But I wanted to finish writing about the end of my journey.
To go back to where I left off at the airport, I was talking about my final day.
The morning I wrote. Ate lunch by myself and then sat in the yard with all the people going about their afternoon. I felt slightly isolated, but after the “sun moved a little,” Libon and I walked over to Isha and Seny’s.
There was a very large presence for the understanding and feeling that it was the last visit I would be making there.
Seny yelled to me out the house door and he came out drinking the home-remedy I had seen Isha make a few days before (for a cold). It was the juice of limes and lemons with mint candies in it. Tea was boiling I na pot on their stove as well. I guess he was still feeling sick.
Making me close my eyes, Isha gave me a necklace of hers. That necklace was continuing its journey from Sierra Leone through Guinea and the Gambia (and now on to America).
I was touched by the gift.
It was a sad day, everyone remarked. I enjoyed my last time of sitting, talking, etc. I’m sad to leave that life.
When Libon said in his regular questioning, “we go?” I answered with my regular answer, “okay.” And I think there was something reassuring in that banter. Leaving though was tough. Hugs and promises of seeing each other again.
Isha walked out of the compound like she had when we had left previously. Walking, holding my hand, down the road slightly, until the bend. Then it really was goodbye.
And then a silent, heavy walk home.
I gathered my things and then the cab was there to take me to the airport. The rain started coming on the way and it was as Isha predicted. Crazy rain came as we approached the airport. It wasn’t until we had arrived, that Libon realized his watch was off.
While we waited to be allowed to check in, the power went out a number of times at the Airport. It was not busy or crowded. There were only a handful of people, and some of them employees that were napping. People started coming. A woman sat down next to me who was actually a teacher from New York (I found out as I had been talking to Libon about going back to school).
The power going on and off was interesting. Not like in America, Libon asked.
Eventually, I was able to check in so that was it.
After sitting in the Banjul waiting area for a long time, and watching some weight-lifting Olympic highlights, finally we were called to go to the bus.
I realized I didn’t have a seat number, but everyone else did not as well. So after the bus pulled up to take us and we were entering the plane—it turned out to be a sit wherever type of situation. That was interesting.
They handed out the immigration forms before landing which made sense and would have been helpful on the to-Africa flight.
In Senegal, I felt more confident since I knew I had to go through the line and pick up my luggage. And I was relieved to see my djembe come off the plane.
So I got my luggage and awkwardly carried it to the other part of the building. It was very busy but I felt good seeing Delta representatives. I was stopped before making the line even thought there seemed to me to be space to go through the rope and stand in line. The manager came after like 10 minutes and said that the flight was overbooked. This was a fact I couldn’t understand. I was bewildered and didn’t know what that would turn out to mean. My mind immediately shifted to fears of being stuck for an unknown length of time in the Senegal airport.
Luckily he went over to the South African airline and checked on their flight to Dulles. He luckily noticed that I was going from New York to DC. While I wasn’t thrilled about IAD, it would mean I’d get to VA and not be in the Senegal airport.
So luckily, he was able to switch me to the one seat left. I then had to be in line for that flight. The man asked me a series of questions about packing my bag and some other about my electronics that I didn’t quite understand.
Then another person had to rifle through my bad. He was slightly perplexed by my backpack, since it didn’t open up like suitcases. And by my drum which was wrapped with tape. I think he gave up and waved me on.
Then I got my bags checked and a boarding pass. That led me to waiting at the immigration line. At that point I started getting worried that I wouldn’t make it in time to get on my new flight. Again I was worried that I’d be stuck in Senegal. People going to Madrid were being waved ahead but I had only 10 minutes until the time marked on my boarding pass, and no announcements were being made for me.
The line moved slowly and then there was a line to go through the metal detector. Then I scooted through Salon A to B. I went to the counter that was on my boarding pass but was waved on to the other counter. Getting to the right one, I was then told I had to have my carry-on bag checked. Then some more people came behind me for the same flight, but I was still worried about time.
That security man shook my malaria pills and bag but I was then allowed to board the bus—to the left, not the right—for the flight. I sat there for awhile but figured I was at least with other passengers at that point.
Eventually we pulled away and up to a huge plane. I was in row 48 and in the middle. 2 – 4 – 2 rows of seats and me in the middle of the 4. And row 48 was in the middle. It was huge.
Getting in with and already fully flight was a bit of a challenge. But got there and felt better.
Watched the Spiderwick Cronicles on the personal screen on the back of the chair in front of me.
Slept. Ate. Watched Step Up 2 and 7 hours later we were landing at Dulles.
Then we were herded into a weird train-like car to go to immigration. Stood in line. Waited for my luggage. It took a long time. It was an exciting even that both were there. Then stood in another long line to exit that area.
It was difficult to carry all of the stuff so instead of trying the bus-to-metro thing, I went to supershuttle to get home.
A long right to the DCA airport and through Capital Hill to get me home finally.
On the flight, I had a lot of movie options. There was one about a kid in South Africa which I thought I would enjoy watching. But after turning it on, I realized I was emotional about leaving and about finishing my adventure, so I couldn’t watch that movie. So like I’ve said before, there are reasons for being happy to be back, but also for staying. It’s a huge event.
I’m so glad I had this opportunity. I hope I’ll be able to return some day.
ak
16 August 2008 - 8:54 pm
16 August 2008
8:54 pm
Sitting in the Banjul Airport. I just checked in and watched my bag and drum go down the line. Now I understand why Seny asked me about seeing my bag. I had to check it in at the counter, but then I had to go to another room to confirm that it was mine and watch it go out around a corner on a conveyor belt. We don’t have that step in America.
We got here super early. Libon’s phone was an hour off we found out. Better early than late, but his is already a lot f waiting and unfortunately I’m not yet to Dakar.
I also have no seat assignment, but I suppose that won’t come into play for another hour.
Sitting, and even walking earlier, with Libon I found I didn’t have much to say. Today is a sad day as Isha and Seny repeated. Perhaps the quiet said more.
I suppose I could have passed the waiting time asking him about Sou Sou words, but while it crossed my mind and I would like to have it, it didn’t feel right. I didn’t feel like being academic. There was something comforting about waiting quietly but not alone.
We did speak, just not a lot.
I made sure he knew that I had given Amy the kids’ gifts and explained about the notebooks and Washington, DC book. He joked that maybe it was for him to learn and not the kids. And I gave him my remaining dalasis—probalby 500. what’s 25 bucks in a currency I can’t use at home. It’s better for him. Especially with the car and everything. He’s going to give me the shupping company (or whatever alternative to a post office it is) so I can send the pictures. I think also candy for the kids, coffee for him, and maybe something Bob Marley for Seny and eye drops and something nice for Isha.
She gave me a beautiful necklace as a departing gift.
*at this point my pen ran out of ink. (POST NOTE: that meant I had gone through my 2 pens from writing…)
8:54 pm
Sitting in the Banjul Airport. I just checked in and watched my bag and drum go down the line. Now I understand why Seny asked me about seeing my bag. I had to check it in at the counter, but then I had to go to another room to confirm that it was mine and watch it go out around a corner on a conveyor belt. We don’t have that step in America.
We got here super early. Libon’s phone was an hour off we found out. Better early than late, but his is already a lot f waiting and unfortunately I’m not yet to Dakar.
I also have no seat assignment, but I suppose that won’t come into play for another hour.
Sitting, and even walking earlier, with Libon I found I didn’t have much to say. Today is a sad day as Isha and Seny repeated. Perhaps the quiet said more.
I suppose I could have passed the waiting time asking him about Sou Sou words, but while it crossed my mind and I would like to have it, it didn’t feel right. I didn’t feel like being academic. There was something comforting about waiting quietly but not alone.
We did speak, just not a lot.
I made sure he knew that I had given Amy the kids’ gifts and explained about the notebooks and Washington, DC book. He joked that maybe it was for him to learn and not the kids. And I gave him my remaining dalasis—probalby 500. what’s 25 bucks in a currency I can’t use at home. It’s better for him. Especially with the car and everything. He’s going to give me the shupping company (or whatever alternative to a post office it is) so I can send the pictures. I think also candy for the kids, coffee for him, and maybe something Bob Marley for Seny and eye drops and something nice for Isha.
She gave me a beautiful necklace as a departing gift.
*at this point my pen ran out of ink. (POST NOTE: that meant I had gone through my 2 pens from writing…)
16 August 2008 - ? before lunch
16 August 2008
? before lunch
Went outside after writing that last entry last night and sat enjoying the peaceful evening with Libon and Seku (his brother). Although less with Seku as he speaks French but not enlgish, the opposite of me.
The stars and full moon made for a beautiful sky, although we moved to sitting under the tree.
I will miss Africa. For some things, I’ll be glad to be home, but for others, I’ll miss it.
No longer is my name Amanda, Libon repeated this morning. I am toubab. I am American African. I am Musuba. Multiple names for me. I am unique—even more so now. And I like that.
The airline confirmed the flight time and check in is at 8 this evening. The only thing amy has spoken to me for this week was asking earlier what time I was leaving. Nice.
Walked to the bank this morning to change money for the djembe bag. The bank was going to take 300 dalasi for changing only 40 pounds, so I used the ATM instead. I took out 1000 dalasi for Libon, figuring that covered the bag and other expenses. Approaching home, Seny was walking from Libon’s home. I don’t know what that was—I wasn’t brought into the conversation.
Hopefully, I’ll see them later. I want to give something to thank them, but I don’t have something. I will have to send them something. I’m not sure what yet—besides pictures.
Libon left and I sat; having finished my book, I felt idle. So now I’m writing. I appreciate the calmness to the day, but I’m anxious about leaving soon.
Amy’s cooking and I would have loved to learn, but I don’t feel like that can be achieved today.
There’s 3 days to account for (journal entry-wise) yet. So that’s what I’ll focus on.
Monday:
On Monday morning, before training I had conversations with Amy and Libon that shed a little more light on their situation. It weighed my thoughts down while training started. I think he could tell that; he told me not to worry about it. Halfway through training I was able to focus better.
I lay in my bug net that afternoon. Spent time reading and relaxing.
Libon called Seny to come over. Shortly after Libon hung up, Isha had called back to talk to me and ask me why I hadn’t invited her over. I didn’t know that Libon had called Seny over. So Isha and Seny came over to the house that evening. I hadn’t seen them in awhile. We sat in the back of the house—I hadn’t been back there. They smoked and I drank some JulBrews. The sky—the stars—was beautiful.
Tuesday:
Training at the bamboo place. Perhaps it was Monday when Attical brought the palm wine they had discussed. Yeah, that was Monday—the palm wine (straight liquid from the palm trees) was good. It had a unique taste although it hinted at something familiar, though I still can’t place it. On Tuesday, during training, he came and reminded me of a conversation we had about trying his uncle’s pork. He asked if we could go in the evening and what time. I told him to talk to Libon about the time. Libon asked me if I “was okay with what the man said” which was a funny way of checking with me I thought. Funny translation I guess. So that was set.
Again I was by myself in the afternoon, which is fine. In the evening, Libon came back and called me to come to the back of the house. “Come, we cook together.” Which was really me sitting in the back talking with him as he peeled and cut potatoes to make French fries.
Isha and Seny came over again and then I was unsure about Attical and the pork since Libon was making me dinner. He appeared though while Isha was telling me stories about how she has been arrested. Dinner was done and so I ate by myself at the table. I went back out and then left with Attical.
We walked to his uncle’s bar/restaurant. I, of course, the only white person and also besides the server, the only woman. The pork was good, and I was brought JulBrews to drink. 2 was good and I did not ask for a 3rd, but it appeared opened. I met his uncle, the restaurant owner who welcomed me to his establishment. The TV was on and apparently one of the cell phone company’s sponsors a saga so there’s an episode each Tuesday night. It seemed like a Spanish soap opera—over the top, because while I didn’t know the language I could tell there was some love triangle drama.
Walked home and Libon was sitting outside at the compound. Sat outside, enjoying the nice evening for a bit and then went to bed.
That means we’re at Wednesday.
Training on all 3 instruments. Song bong was easier and jun jun easier—the opposite of the 1st week’s pattern. But I got both better than the 1st week.
I wanted to ask about going to the beach and crocodiles but felt awkward about outright asking to go. But at lunch I asked.
Lunch was communal. It is nice to eat with others. Eating by myself is going to be a solitary adjustment. Like at school. Maybe we can do some more potluck-type meals at school more often this year.
We went to Isha and Seny’s after lunch. I hadn’t slept well Monday night but had Tuesday night. So when he asked if I wanted to relax (sleep?), I said no and was glad to go with him.
Sat and enjoyed the afternoon. Leaving to go walk to the beach.
There were many people playing soccer and exercising along the beach.
On the way we witnessed two men getting the palm wine from the trees. I could see the bottles hanging (I guess I hadn’t noticed them in the trees before). I took a picture of the second man—he was farther away and I thought maybe he wouldn’t notice me. But he did and yelled. Libon said he told him I didn’t have a camera—that I didn’t take a picture. But he argued by yelling back at us. Ugh.
So I didn’t take pictures of the soccer matches on the sand. There are some distant ones and those will have to do.
I love the sight and sounds of the ocean. The tide was coming in closer. The moon was getting fuller.
We walked up to near where we walked the other time. Sat and enjoyed the waves. I took many pictures and carved my initials in the sand.
Then I decided that my version of photographic self portraits will be of my feet different palces. I like my feet pictures and I think from now on, I’ll try to remember to take more. To build a collection. People might find it odd, but that’s just art…right?
Then we walked down the other way. There were many hotels with restaurants—closed because it’s not season. But I could see that it catered toward the light skinned visitors. The names and such gave it away.
I saw a few lobster-y (sunburned) white people. And I though how sad it would be to just come to the Gambia to one of these beach reserot/hotels and not experience Gambian life. I’ll gladly take my trip over that. I like the beach, but this is new. I know that going to the beach might be the goal of a trip, but to just see the coast would be a disservice to the country.
Didn’t see the sun set completely, which is sad from a picture perspective, but not for me being able to see the way home.
Stopped along the path to take a lot of palm tree/environment pictures.
And then saw a dance rehersal in progress. That was cool. 5 women changing their actions in time based on the changes in the man’s vocal representation of a drum.
They knew Libon. One woman spoke to me in mandinka/wolof and Libon helped me (told me how to) answer.
All that I remember is that “yameric” means that “I’m fine.”
Fell asleep watching tv. It’s cooler in the living room and I have that habit while watching tv.
Awesome. Mbalia keeps playing with my pen and I’m hungry for lunch.
ak
? before lunch
Went outside after writing that last entry last night and sat enjoying the peaceful evening with Libon and Seku (his brother). Although less with Seku as he speaks French but not enlgish, the opposite of me.
The stars and full moon made for a beautiful sky, although we moved to sitting under the tree.
I will miss Africa. For some things, I’ll be glad to be home, but for others, I’ll miss it.
No longer is my name Amanda, Libon repeated this morning. I am toubab. I am American African. I am Musuba. Multiple names for me. I am unique—even more so now. And I like that.
The airline confirmed the flight time and check in is at 8 this evening. The only thing amy has spoken to me for this week was asking earlier what time I was leaving. Nice.
Walked to the bank this morning to change money for the djembe bag. The bank was going to take 300 dalasi for changing only 40 pounds, so I used the ATM instead. I took out 1000 dalasi for Libon, figuring that covered the bag and other expenses. Approaching home, Seny was walking from Libon’s home. I don’t know what that was—I wasn’t brought into the conversation.
Hopefully, I’ll see them later. I want to give something to thank them, but I don’t have something. I will have to send them something. I’m not sure what yet—besides pictures.
Libon left and I sat; having finished my book, I felt idle. So now I’m writing. I appreciate the calmness to the day, but I’m anxious about leaving soon.
Amy’s cooking and I would have loved to learn, but I don’t feel like that can be achieved today.
There’s 3 days to account for (journal entry-wise) yet. So that’s what I’ll focus on.
Monday:
On Monday morning, before training I had conversations with Amy and Libon that shed a little more light on their situation. It weighed my thoughts down while training started. I think he could tell that; he told me not to worry about it. Halfway through training I was able to focus better.
I lay in my bug net that afternoon. Spent time reading and relaxing.
Libon called Seny to come over. Shortly after Libon hung up, Isha had called back to talk to me and ask me why I hadn’t invited her over. I didn’t know that Libon had called Seny over. So Isha and Seny came over to the house that evening. I hadn’t seen them in awhile. We sat in the back of the house—I hadn’t been back there. They smoked and I drank some JulBrews. The sky—the stars—was beautiful.
Tuesday:
Training at the bamboo place. Perhaps it was Monday when Attical brought the palm wine they had discussed. Yeah, that was Monday—the palm wine (straight liquid from the palm trees) was good. It had a unique taste although it hinted at something familiar, though I still can’t place it. On Tuesday, during training, he came and reminded me of a conversation we had about trying his uncle’s pork. He asked if we could go in the evening and what time. I told him to talk to Libon about the time. Libon asked me if I “was okay with what the man said” which was a funny way of checking with me I thought. Funny translation I guess. So that was set.
Again I was by myself in the afternoon, which is fine. In the evening, Libon came back and called me to come to the back of the house. “Come, we cook together.” Which was really me sitting in the back talking with him as he peeled and cut potatoes to make French fries.
Isha and Seny came over again and then I was unsure about Attical and the pork since Libon was making me dinner. He appeared though while Isha was telling me stories about how she has been arrested. Dinner was done and so I ate by myself at the table. I went back out and then left with Attical.
We walked to his uncle’s bar/restaurant. I, of course, the only white person and also besides the server, the only woman. The pork was good, and I was brought JulBrews to drink. 2 was good and I did not ask for a 3rd, but it appeared opened. I met his uncle, the restaurant owner who welcomed me to his establishment. The TV was on and apparently one of the cell phone company’s sponsors a saga so there’s an episode each Tuesday night. It seemed like a Spanish soap opera—over the top, because while I didn’t know the language I could tell there was some love triangle drama.
Walked home and Libon was sitting outside at the compound. Sat outside, enjoying the nice evening for a bit and then went to bed.
That means we’re at Wednesday.
Training on all 3 instruments. Song bong was easier and jun jun easier—the opposite of the 1st week’s pattern. But I got both better than the 1st week.
I wanted to ask about going to the beach and crocodiles but felt awkward about outright asking to go. But at lunch I asked.
Lunch was communal. It is nice to eat with others. Eating by myself is going to be a solitary adjustment. Like at school. Maybe we can do some more potluck-type meals at school more often this year.
We went to Isha and Seny’s after lunch. I hadn’t slept well Monday night but had Tuesday night. So when he asked if I wanted to relax (sleep?), I said no and was glad to go with him.
Sat and enjoyed the afternoon. Leaving to go walk to the beach.
There were many people playing soccer and exercising along the beach.
On the way we witnessed two men getting the palm wine from the trees. I could see the bottles hanging (I guess I hadn’t noticed them in the trees before). I took a picture of the second man—he was farther away and I thought maybe he wouldn’t notice me. But he did and yelled. Libon said he told him I didn’t have a camera—that I didn’t take a picture. But he argued by yelling back at us. Ugh.
So I didn’t take pictures of the soccer matches on the sand. There are some distant ones and those will have to do.
I love the sight and sounds of the ocean. The tide was coming in closer. The moon was getting fuller.
We walked up to near where we walked the other time. Sat and enjoyed the waves. I took many pictures and carved my initials in the sand.
Then I decided that my version of photographic self portraits will be of my feet different palces. I like my feet pictures and I think from now on, I’ll try to remember to take more. To build a collection. People might find it odd, but that’s just art…right?
Then we walked down the other way. There were many hotels with restaurants—closed because it’s not season. But I could see that it catered toward the light skinned visitors. The names and such gave it away.
I saw a few lobster-y (sunburned) white people. And I though how sad it would be to just come to the Gambia to one of these beach reserot/hotels and not experience Gambian life. I’ll gladly take my trip over that. I like the beach, but this is new. I know that going to the beach might be the goal of a trip, but to just see the coast would be a disservice to the country.
Didn’t see the sun set completely, which is sad from a picture perspective, but not for me being able to see the way home.
Stopped along the path to take a lot of palm tree/environment pictures.
And then saw a dance rehersal in progress. That was cool. 5 women changing their actions in time based on the changes in the man’s vocal representation of a drum.
They knew Libon. One woman spoke to me in mandinka/wolof and Libon helped me (told me how to) answer.
All that I remember is that “yameric” means that “I’m fine.”
Fell asleep watching tv. It’s cooler in the living room and I have that habit while watching tv.
Awesome. Mbalia keeps playing with my pen and I’m hungry for lunch.
ak
15 August 2008 - 9:45 pm
15 August 2008
9:45 pm
Under the net. Was sitting at the dinner table, but after finishing I felt awkward being there—Amy and Libon were talking. And not that I understood, I just felt very out of place.
With no tv and no electricity, I feel lost. I didn’t yet want to sleep, but it’s dark and what is there to do to avoid the awkwardness I don’t know that answer.
So I’ve been listening to some Guster on my ipod. It took a chunk—maybe half—of the battery to show the pictures, but I’ve not used it much. I suppose not last week at all but this week more. At any rate, I leave tomorrow, so it will work out. I can’t find the plug adaptor that I bought and brought. I took out the things in my backpack more than once to no avail. Oh well.
After wrting this morning I read and then had lunch. No fish with the rice—the sauce was slightly different. “Keep swimming” but I didn’t (as usual) finish my part. They say everybody eats their side and then it’s finished—but my side remains. Yesterday they were telling me to finish and Suryell was helping so I cleverly shifted the plate around claiming my side was then done and it was Suryell who had not yet finished.
Not finishing does not mean that it’s bad; because it is very good—some spice, but a lot of rice. Way more than I would ever eat at one meal.
Keep swimming-cross the ocean.
After our discussion of American’s at the beach: lying on the sand for the sun. I used that as my response to the swimming prompt yesterday as well. Amusing metaphors.
I finished the book this afternoon. It was to the point that she had died, and I need to finish the whole book. I couldn’t stop. It was very good.
Amy got into a car accident—the left side of the car is smashed up, but luckily she is fine. Libon showed me later in the afternoon where the accident had taken place.
No answer from the airline; must call tomorrow morning.
This evening I called mom—a short call was the plan, but it was shorter as I was cut off. I wanted her to know that I was fine and her response was that she knew that I was fine on the prior Sunday (I foresaw that answer).
We went to Seny and Isha’s after the accident. I could tell Libon was stressed out by it. “Someday I know I can get peace,” he says.
We had china tea. Some German woman and a boy (her son?) stopped by with two Africans. Apparently she was married to one of the African guys. Rambo the dog took to the German guy. He was sporting a fanny pack which made me laugh. He didn’t want the first round of tea; the woman stated it was too strong for him. I like the first round.
Sat, talked, laughed. It’s how I want to spend my last remaining time here.
Seny and this other man (the dance teacher/guy who’s been around at Seny’s) sang and played me a song. Libon joined in singing as well.
All of a sudden he appeared with a kora and a thumb piano and started playing. And within the first verse, I didn’t know what he was saying but heard my name.
The beginning had my name called repeatedly. Isha leaned over and translated.
Amanda, be patient, Amanda, be patient…
You came from far away…
You will meet your love in Africa…
But you’ll need to go away to know it…
Amanda, be patient, be patient, Amanda…
It was incredible. They kept singing. I wished I could understand the language.
I wanted to have that on video. It was my immediate reaction to pull out my camera but I didn’t want to offend anyone. Isha, half way through the song, though, asked me if I had my camera. So I have the second half of the song on video. Sadly my name is not sung in that half, but I have that memory.
It was cool. Kora, thumb piano, and 3 male voices. It was beautiful. And just for me.
ak
9:45 pm
Under the net. Was sitting at the dinner table, but after finishing I felt awkward being there—Amy and Libon were talking. And not that I understood, I just felt very out of place.
With no tv and no electricity, I feel lost. I didn’t yet want to sleep, but it’s dark and what is there to do to avoid the awkwardness I don’t know that answer.
So I’ve been listening to some Guster on my ipod. It took a chunk—maybe half—of the battery to show the pictures, but I’ve not used it much. I suppose not last week at all but this week more. At any rate, I leave tomorrow, so it will work out. I can’t find the plug adaptor that I bought and brought. I took out the things in my backpack more than once to no avail. Oh well.
After wrting this morning I read and then had lunch. No fish with the rice—the sauce was slightly different. “Keep swimming” but I didn’t (as usual) finish my part. They say everybody eats their side and then it’s finished—but my side remains. Yesterday they were telling me to finish and Suryell was helping so I cleverly shifted the plate around claiming my side was then done and it was Suryell who had not yet finished.
Not finishing does not mean that it’s bad; because it is very good—some spice, but a lot of rice. Way more than I would ever eat at one meal.
Keep swimming-cross the ocean.
After our discussion of American’s at the beach: lying on the sand for the sun. I used that as my response to the swimming prompt yesterday as well. Amusing metaphors.
I finished the book this afternoon. It was to the point that she had died, and I need to finish the whole book. I couldn’t stop. It was very good.
Amy got into a car accident—the left side of the car is smashed up, but luckily she is fine. Libon showed me later in the afternoon where the accident had taken place.
No answer from the airline; must call tomorrow morning.
This evening I called mom—a short call was the plan, but it was shorter as I was cut off. I wanted her to know that I was fine and her response was that she knew that I was fine on the prior Sunday (I foresaw that answer).
We went to Seny and Isha’s after the accident. I could tell Libon was stressed out by it. “Someday I know I can get peace,” he says.
We had china tea. Some German woman and a boy (her son?) stopped by with two Africans. Apparently she was married to one of the African guys. Rambo the dog took to the German guy. He was sporting a fanny pack which made me laugh. He didn’t want the first round of tea; the woman stated it was too strong for him. I like the first round.
Sat, talked, laughed. It’s how I want to spend my last remaining time here.
Seny and this other man (the dance teacher/guy who’s been around at Seny’s) sang and played me a song. Libon joined in singing as well.
All of a sudden he appeared with a kora and a thumb piano and started playing. And within the first verse, I didn’t know what he was saying but heard my name.
The beginning had my name called repeatedly. Isha leaned over and translated.
Amanda, be patient, Amanda, be patient…
You came from far away…
You will meet your love in Africa…
But you’ll need to go away to know it…
Amanda, be patient, be patient, Amanda…
It was incredible. They kept singing. I wished I could understand the language.
I wanted to have that on video. It was my immediate reaction to pull out my camera but I didn’t want to offend anyone. Isha, half way through the song, though, asked me if I had my camera. So I have the second half of the song on video. Sadly my name is not sung in that half, but I have that memory.
It was cool. Kora, thumb piano, and 3 male voices. It was beautiful. And just for me.
ak
Friday, September 12, 2008
15 August 2008 - ? early afternoon (before lunch)
15 August 2008
? early afternoon (before lunch)
Today is Friday. Tomorrow I am leaving the Gambia. It’s odd to think that I’ve spent 2 weeks here.
My disposition is much different 2 Fridays after my arrival. At that time I was so worried and anxious that I was ready to end the trip near after it’s start. Today I do not feel the same. I’ve grown to appreciate a lot of things at home but also to appreciate and respect the way of life here. It’s been a very relaxed trip—I have not filled my days with more than necessary while I like to go to museums and such—broader, to keep busy—I think that experiencing a lack of that here is a good thing. Call it growing or not, I want to be more okay with being idle/alone. With no TV to watch or electricity to use, there is little else to do. While going home means that I will have electricity I hope that it translates to doing more of what I always claim to make it a point to do—the arts, etc.
Yesterday I composed a list of reminders of what to write about. It will take pages to cover as about a week’s worth of experience needs to hit the page. And that’s a lot. For now I think I’ll do yesterday and today as to not be entirely overwhelmed.
Yesterday was Thursday. It was also the final day of training. We started with what we did last week and that was a bit shaky. But it came back (slowly). I am much better at this week’s parts on all 3 instruments. I was able to record myself on djembe with the others playing last week’s piece. It was recording this week’s later in the session, but unfortunately the battery died. This is very upsetting as I would have liked to have that full recording as well as the one of me playing the other parts. But I guess that wasn’t in the cards.
At least I have the mental experience and hopefully will retain the body motions (and having the other recordings to watch.
I am sad that my 2 weeks of training are completed. I could see how months and longer trips are often planned. 2 weeks was a start, but definitely only just a start.
My right wrist was beginning to hurt these past days of training. Explaining that it had been broken (or chipped…whatever) brought clarity to Libon as he remarked that it was why I struggle with the isolation pattern. Apparently my right hand is not as good as my left.
This isolation pattern. I know it. In theory – the closed vs. open tones. I can hear it. I can feel it. But my playing of it leaves something to be desired. “Make your hands like peddles. Lift your hands” he says. “I know” I reply. I am aware of the problem; my hands don’t seem to want to move quickly or something and I am attempting the closing of my fingers. With practice I hope that will come.
So as the day went on, I played all 6 of the parts I learned and it was a good day. It was the last day of us spending time at the bamboo place. Attical said an awkward goodbye. He spoke in an African language but if you want my attention then I would use English. Speak in a language I understand, but that’s partly selfish on my part.
Communal lunch with the drummers and Amy. She had returned and I have not asked about it. I don’t want to create any issues by bringing that up.
I drew a diagram for Suryell regarding the lanyard box stitch. I had used bamboo leaves during a practice one day using the box stitch. He asked me what I made, which to me was nothing, but then I taught them how to weave the leaves. Bamboo leaves don’t work so well for the box stitch, so that made it pretty difficult. I’ll have to send a bunch of pictures for him to get it and maybe to explain the circular version of the stitch. But I was glad to leave him with something (and I drew it in one of the US notebooks so he can reference New York as he mentions so often).
After awhile Libon and I went to the Bakao craft market. I thought that maybe Amy was joining us, but the car dropper her at her family’s and then we continued on our way.
Having changed locations, we found it after asking some people. And then it was each vendor trying to convince me into his stall for his wares.
I bought a bunch of gifts. Negotiated some prices. I guess I got better offers since it’s “not the season.” I was the only buyer there for the entire duration of our trip. In one stall and out the other.
I am happy with my purchases. They are not large items so I will not be using the duffel bag. I’m not sure that thy will be what people expect but there were some surrounding factors influencing trip spending—and they’re still really cool.
At any rate, I got a bunch of African craft stuff. I think I will just carry some on in Heimy’s bag with me and I’ll be fine. There is the djembe to carry also. I don’t know which one I am getting, but I know it will be good. I trust in that.
We took a bus-like taxi home. Bus-like in the sense that it stops along its way to pick up and drop off people and that it’s cheaper than a taxi. Think very-run-down-old-12 passenger van. Like almost all vehicles though.
Lucky again, since I only had 100 dalasi denomination bills and our fare was slightly more than Libon’s small denomination coins.
That brought us “Bakao to Serrekunda” and to a point of walking back. We came to a familiar junction at which point right is home and left is Seny’s. While following Libon he stared right and I questioned “you don’t want to go to Seny’s?” At which point he changed his direction and said he thought I might be tired. I wasn’t. We went and had tea. Sat out. Rambo, a dog, who apparently responds to multiple languages and people was paying no mind to Libon. They pinned that on him thinking of me as his previous, first, white owner.
Libon would call Rambo, who would not answer. He would jest, telling the dog just to wait two days until I was gone.
The rain started (it hadn’t rained in awhile and was ridiculously hot, so we knew it was coming soon) and it started off okay. We sat out under the ledge of the roof against the house. Libon laughed at me leaving me outside but I soon joined them in the compound. Not soon after, it began pouring as it does in Africa.
More tea. A young boy taking the money but not returning with what was asked to be purchased. A real example of what they’ve been telling me about Gambians is how they explained it. And the rain. The sound with the tin roof is loud and incredible. Near shouts to carry on a conversation. I felt at home though; I guess safety from my companions.
Walking home was an experience. A slow, careful, trudge home. Isha gave me her umbrella (caring about me, and joking about not caring about Libon) and so we went through the rain and mud.
I did not mind.
The only difficulty really was when the mud was soaked but not to the point of standing water. That, those saturated spots, were like quick sand. And on at least 4 occasions I lost a flip flop.
But I made it home without falling and for that I felt good. That was my goal.
Dinner by candlelight with Amy still home. And no generator power, I felt lost at what to do. I lay and listened to music for about an hour (it was only 10 at that point) and then went to sleep.
The prayers before dawn are obnoxious. I don’t mean to put down a religion or their worshipping habits, but at 5 am, the loudspeaker calls are not a happy thing for me. They wake me before the crowing hens/roosters and then it’s really hard to sleep in the early morning.
Friday
Getting up around 8:30, I had breakfast and read. I really like the book Mike gave me for the trip, and I’m nearing the end. I didn’t know what time we were going to the crocodile pond, but I don’t feel it’s my place to question. I trusted that at a appoint Libon would ask me if I was ready to go and that’s what happened (if just that it was later than I thought).
So the driver took us over to Kachikally. He couldn’t get to the place on account of the roads—but close. Driving in that neighborhood was like a funny game, but after one or two circles, we found we couldn’t get any closer. It was only a few blocks away in the middle of a residential area.
I got to see the crocodiles up close and pet one. It was neat. Although drizzling and not a sight of hundreds. In the sun, they bathe, but it was cloudy and gray. So there were not as many out.
I did see a number of little baby crocodiles though. The guide insisted that one that I thought might be dead was not and then grabbed his tail to show me. He invited me to bathe in the water (they had told me earlier and I had read about how women attempting to have children and other things use the water for magical properties), but I kindly declined that offer. While I was excited to pet the crocodile, I felt no need to swim with them. I did not see the leader – the albino named Charlie.
There was a museum and I was able to take a few “traditional” item pictures. This is good as some can be then explained and I have evidence without offending live people. Libon was disappointed at the musical instrument exhibit. He pointed out one of the drummers as one of his friends who had died recently.
Then I bought 2 carved crocodiles from a man- a friend to Libon, he said. Libon is a kin man, a generous man. And there seem to be many who know him and call him friend. But no matter, I would have bought them anyway.
And then we returned. We have to call the airport to check on the flight. Apparently they can be late or early. I just need it to work.
So hopefully we’ll call at some point. For now I’ve written and I think I will return to my book.
Leave more writing for later.
Tea in hand –
ak
? early afternoon (before lunch)
Today is Friday. Tomorrow I am leaving the Gambia. It’s odd to think that I’ve spent 2 weeks here.
My disposition is much different 2 Fridays after my arrival. At that time I was so worried and anxious that I was ready to end the trip near after it’s start. Today I do not feel the same. I’ve grown to appreciate a lot of things at home but also to appreciate and respect the way of life here. It’s been a very relaxed trip—I have not filled my days with more than necessary while I like to go to museums and such—broader, to keep busy—I think that experiencing a lack of that here is a good thing. Call it growing or not, I want to be more okay with being idle/alone. With no TV to watch or electricity to use, there is little else to do. While going home means that I will have electricity I hope that it translates to doing more of what I always claim to make it a point to do—the arts, etc.
Yesterday I composed a list of reminders of what to write about. It will take pages to cover as about a week’s worth of experience needs to hit the page. And that’s a lot. For now I think I’ll do yesterday and today as to not be entirely overwhelmed.
Yesterday was Thursday. It was also the final day of training. We started with what we did last week and that was a bit shaky. But it came back (slowly). I am much better at this week’s parts on all 3 instruments. I was able to record myself on djembe with the others playing last week’s piece. It was recording this week’s later in the session, but unfortunately the battery died. This is very upsetting as I would have liked to have that full recording as well as the one of me playing the other parts. But I guess that wasn’t in the cards.
At least I have the mental experience and hopefully will retain the body motions (and having the other recordings to watch.
I am sad that my 2 weeks of training are completed. I could see how months and longer trips are often planned. 2 weeks was a start, but definitely only just a start.
My right wrist was beginning to hurt these past days of training. Explaining that it had been broken (or chipped…whatever) brought clarity to Libon as he remarked that it was why I struggle with the isolation pattern. Apparently my right hand is not as good as my left.
This isolation pattern. I know it. In theory – the closed vs. open tones. I can hear it. I can feel it. But my playing of it leaves something to be desired. “Make your hands like peddles. Lift your hands” he says. “I know” I reply. I am aware of the problem; my hands don’t seem to want to move quickly or something and I am attempting the closing of my fingers. With practice I hope that will come.
So as the day went on, I played all 6 of the parts I learned and it was a good day. It was the last day of us spending time at the bamboo place. Attical said an awkward goodbye. He spoke in an African language but if you want my attention then I would use English. Speak in a language I understand, but that’s partly selfish on my part.
Communal lunch with the drummers and Amy. She had returned and I have not asked about it. I don’t want to create any issues by bringing that up.
I drew a diagram for Suryell regarding the lanyard box stitch. I had used bamboo leaves during a practice one day using the box stitch. He asked me what I made, which to me was nothing, but then I taught them how to weave the leaves. Bamboo leaves don’t work so well for the box stitch, so that made it pretty difficult. I’ll have to send a bunch of pictures for him to get it and maybe to explain the circular version of the stitch. But I was glad to leave him with something (and I drew it in one of the US notebooks so he can reference New York as he mentions so often).
After awhile Libon and I went to the Bakao craft market. I thought that maybe Amy was joining us, but the car dropper her at her family’s and then we continued on our way.
Having changed locations, we found it after asking some people. And then it was each vendor trying to convince me into his stall for his wares.
I bought a bunch of gifts. Negotiated some prices. I guess I got better offers since it’s “not the season.” I was the only buyer there for the entire duration of our trip. In one stall and out the other.
I am happy with my purchases. They are not large items so I will not be using the duffel bag. I’m not sure that thy will be what people expect but there were some surrounding factors influencing trip spending—and they’re still really cool.
At any rate, I got a bunch of African craft stuff. I think I will just carry some on in Heimy’s bag with me and I’ll be fine. There is the djembe to carry also. I don’t know which one I am getting, but I know it will be good. I trust in that.
We took a bus-like taxi home. Bus-like in the sense that it stops along its way to pick up and drop off people and that it’s cheaper than a taxi. Think very-run-down-old-12 passenger van. Like almost all vehicles though.
Lucky again, since I only had 100 dalasi denomination bills and our fare was slightly more than Libon’s small denomination coins.
That brought us “Bakao to Serrekunda” and to a point of walking back. We came to a familiar junction at which point right is home and left is Seny’s. While following Libon he stared right and I questioned “you don’t want to go to Seny’s?” At which point he changed his direction and said he thought I might be tired. I wasn’t. We went and had tea. Sat out. Rambo, a dog, who apparently responds to multiple languages and people was paying no mind to Libon. They pinned that on him thinking of me as his previous, first, white owner.
Libon would call Rambo, who would not answer. He would jest, telling the dog just to wait two days until I was gone.
The rain started (it hadn’t rained in awhile and was ridiculously hot, so we knew it was coming soon) and it started off okay. We sat out under the ledge of the roof against the house. Libon laughed at me leaving me outside but I soon joined them in the compound. Not soon after, it began pouring as it does in Africa.
More tea. A young boy taking the money but not returning with what was asked to be purchased. A real example of what they’ve been telling me about Gambians is how they explained it. And the rain. The sound with the tin roof is loud and incredible. Near shouts to carry on a conversation. I felt at home though; I guess safety from my companions.
Walking home was an experience. A slow, careful, trudge home. Isha gave me her umbrella (caring about me, and joking about not caring about Libon) and so we went through the rain and mud.
I did not mind.
The only difficulty really was when the mud was soaked but not to the point of standing water. That, those saturated spots, were like quick sand. And on at least 4 occasions I lost a flip flop.
But I made it home without falling and for that I felt good. That was my goal.
Dinner by candlelight with Amy still home. And no generator power, I felt lost at what to do. I lay and listened to music for about an hour (it was only 10 at that point) and then went to sleep.
The prayers before dawn are obnoxious. I don’t mean to put down a religion or their worshipping habits, but at 5 am, the loudspeaker calls are not a happy thing for me. They wake me before the crowing hens/roosters and then it’s really hard to sleep in the early morning.
Friday
Getting up around 8:30, I had breakfast and read. I really like the book Mike gave me for the trip, and I’m nearing the end. I didn’t know what time we were going to the crocodile pond, but I don’t feel it’s my place to question. I trusted that at a appoint Libon would ask me if I was ready to go and that’s what happened (if just that it was later than I thought).
So the driver took us over to Kachikally. He couldn’t get to the place on account of the roads—but close. Driving in that neighborhood was like a funny game, but after one or two circles, we found we couldn’t get any closer. It was only a few blocks away in the middle of a residential area.
I got to see the crocodiles up close and pet one. It was neat. Although drizzling and not a sight of hundreds. In the sun, they bathe, but it was cloudy and gray. So there were not as many out.
I did see a number of little baby crocodiles though. The guide insisted that one that I thought might be dead was not and then grabbed his tail to show me. He invited me to bathe in the water (they had told me earlier and I had read about how women attempting to have children and other things use the water for magical properties), but I kindly declined that offer. While I was excited to pet the crocodile, I felt no need to swim with them. I did not see the leader – the albino named Charlie.
There was a museum and I was able to take a few “traditional” item pictures. This is good as some can be then explained and I have evidence without offending live people. Libon was disappointed at the musical instrument exhibit. He pointed out one of the drummers as one of his friends who had died recently.
Then I bought 2 carved crocodiles from a man- a friend to Libon, he said. Libon is a kin man, a generous man. And there seem to be many who know him and call him friend. But no matter, I would have bought them anyway.
And then we returned. We have to call the airport to check on the flight. Apparently they can be late or early. I just need it to work.
So hopefully we’ll call at some point. For now I’ve written and I think I will return to my book.
Leave more writing for later.
Tea in hand –
ak
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