01 August - Gambia - 11:50 pm

01 August 2008
Libon’s house, the Gambia
11:50 pm

Wow. Today was intense. I don’t know where to start really.
Once it was ten this morning I still didn’t see Banjul listed on any of the screens in the Senegal airport. And I was getting really nervous about that. So I got up and got in line and she asked me if I had luggage. I explained I did but not with me due to the tag. Then I stood waiting still completely unsure of everything.
A worker called out “Banjul” to which I answered and I was moved. The next worker again asked about the bag but it seemed the tag made sense. Or maybe that was just my misconception since there was no further conversation about it.
He told me A2 and I was off around the corner. I accidentally walked past the line but then went back to go through the line. Double checking “A2” as I went.
Then there was a gate. And a lot of the people I had been watching go through the line all morning. I guess they knew something I didn’t. the screen still said Paris and not Banjul.

Then I saw a phone. I had opted not to go back to that restaurant plaza because I didn’t want to be hassled and I didn’t feel safe and didn’t want to miss the never appearing screen. That phone was a glorious site but it didn’t work. No dial tone. I waited. I tried dialing and then waited. No luck.
So I sat down and saw that the woman next to me had a ticket that said “ Banjul.” This I thought was lucky as I could follow her.
They called the flight—I guess—I didn’t understand and didn’t hear Banjul. But again checked and was taken to a bus. That bus moved across the tarmac to our plane. Bigger than I had expected but still small with propellers on the wings.

I must have slept some as I woke to find I missed the beverage service. That was okay; I was feeling so overwhelmed and concerned to drink anyway.

Arrived in Banjul and bused to the terminal. I felt good that I was able to fill out my paperwork—seemed easier than the Spanish trips or maybe just that now I have more experience with them?

Then came luggage, and I got scared. I didn’t see it. And waited and didn’t see it. It wasn’t there. I wanted to cry but didn’t. I was so angry and just felt enraged. So I made a claim and faced the Honduras problem of not having a phone number. Great. And all my stuff and medicine. God, I felt as though I was dealing with enough to have that added on. Traveling by myself. To Africa. Alone. 1st time. No clue. And now no luggage.

So I went through and by this time everyone else had and so I was basically alone. I mean I already was the lone American single white girl.

And then I saw no sign. Where was the Drumculture sign? This couldn’t be happening. I wanted to scream. And to cry. And to go home.

A man approached me to ask if I needed a ride. I told him I was waiting.

Moses—he helped me and I’m sure I gave him way more money than I should but I wouldn’t be here without him. I only had Mike’s number and his Gambian one didn’t work. The men took an active approach to all trying and discussing the school. He helped me change money—I think that the commission was large but I didn’t care. Moses kept telling me it was alright and that “this is Gambia, a nice place.” He took some money to get phone credits and so I could make international calls. Luckily I reached Mike in the UK. At that point, I was in a cab and had him turn around to go back to the airport. Mike was going to call Libon.

I was so…I don’t even know the right word. Scared, mad, confused. they all are part of it but don’t encapsulate the feelings I had.

My mind kept turning to the people telling me it would be fine and great and not to worry. I wanted to yell at those people. I wanted to yell at myself. And I wanted to talk to someone to fix it.

I was worried about my mom. She, I was sure, was having a terrible time as I looked at my watch. I called and the privacy setting required me to identify myself. I said “Amanda” 2x which it couldn’t recognize and “Krause” 1x and then it told me to hang up. I got Heimy’s voicemail and in a trembling voice left her a message to call my mom. I then left the Shea’s a message also. It was a phone number I knew and I had really hoped someone would answer. I just hope someone reached my mom.

Then I waited. Moses too until he went to evening prayer. He came back and I was still there. Still just defeated.
Meanwhile another man interested in helping me and coming to America was talking to me. I didn’t want to talk. I wanted to feel okay.

Libon appeared and apologized for the time mixup. He was there. The men talked and I couldn’t understand. I got them to go back so I could give the baggage ladies the phone number. They were shocked I hadn’t left. Yeah, me too.

They didn’t really say what they would do. I don’t know ho that works here. I want my stuff. I need that stuff.

So Libon and brother (or someone)drove us and the baggage lady—who needed a ride—back.

I think I’ll continue in the morning. I don’t know how I’ll sleep. I want the internet tomorrow. I feel bad having the light on still and know I need to adjust to this schedule. But there’s so much more.

I wish I wasn’t alone.
ak