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