My first year is almost finished!
I'm in Kombo again, woot woot! I came last week to greet the new education volunteers at the airport and have been helping with their training for the last few days, basically sharing my experiences and giving advice about where to go to buy this, that, and the other thing. It's an experience very similar to babysitting or being a camp counselor. I had the opportunity to help with interviews for the teacher-trainers and math/science teachers, and that helped me get to know the trainees a lot better. I also gave my input as to what villages they might be placed in, which in turn determined what language they are now studying, so I feel pretty darn cool. Sitting through training again and listening to the questions they ask constantly gives me flashbacks to when I went through training, and it's a real ego-booster to see how much everyone in my education group has grown and done in the year since we were trainees. The new group is full of people with teaching experience, which is something my group didn't have much of, so I think the new people are going to do marvelously well. They're very upbeat as well, as have all the other groups before—starting with my training group—so it looks like things are on the up-swing. Last Saturday we took the trainees to a local restaurant for a chance to meet some current volunteers, and it was a smashing success. When my group went there as trainees, we met a bunch of sarcastic, embittered volunteers who were just waiting until their COS, but this time around everyone was positive, and just being there in that mass of optimistic feelings has revved me up to finish the school year strong and to do even more when I move to Bwiam. I'm also considering in the back of my mind the possibility of extending to another country, most likely The Philippines (I have a thing for countries beginning with "The") where I can continue teaching science and hopefully do more youth-development work with an NGO. I have to wait until the new country director comes in July and give him some time to settle in before I discuss such things out loud, but we shall see. Which reminds me that I don't think I've mentioned our former country director terminated her service early. We joke that you know things are messed up in your country when you can't even keep your director from ETing, but she found a job helping to develop the new Oregon State University campus in Bend.
Back in Dankunku things are much the same. I'm thoroughly disappointed in my host father and school headmaster because of some money issues. Before I came to Kombo last time my host father "ate" the advanced rent he asked for, which he said he would use to buy rice for the family. Instead, he used it to buy cement for the new addition he's adding to his personal house, and he had the courage to ask me for the money because I had been trying to help the family finish a house they're building in the compound with monetary donations, which were also "eaten" by my host father to improve his own house. "No good deed goes unpunished" as they say, but I won't give him money help ever again, only to the wives. As to Mr. Sane, he had the gall to ask me for 2,400 D as a loan for some personal problems he has, and when I told him that I don't give out money, he then said "Well, then just give me 500 D as a grant." When I asked him if he knew a grant doesn't have to be repaid, he replied "Yes, exactly, give it to me as a gift." I almost blew up at him since I still had anger regarding my host father, and because I know Mr. Sane has borrowed money from the garden committee, the Scouts, and the sports committee, adding up to a few thousand dalasis and which he has not repaid. It's very difficult to be here in situations like that, when there is such a culture clash (here, if you have money or anything else of value, you share it, no questions asked) and no matter of explaining will make them understand your perspective, it's only "You have it, I don't, so you should give it to me." Another volunteer explained it a better way. "In The Gambia, nothing is yours, it's everyone's. That's why strangers can walk into your house and take water, or villagers can come take your hammer or your donkey cart without asking and tell you about it later, because none of it is yours to begin with. You may have possession of it, but it belongs to everyone and everyone has an equal right to use it." I think some sort of line needs to be drawn regarding money, though. And there isn't much sentimental value attached to objects, either. For instance, my host brother Dembo, who "borrowed" one of two wind-up flashlights my grandparents gave me until he forgot he was only borrowing, told me that when I leave for Bwiam I need to give him my other wind-up flashlight because he broke the one I had "given" him. He could not grasp the concept that I don't want to give it to him because it came from my grandparents and that when I use it, it reminds me of family camping trips with them. And the fact that I still use it means nothing to him either; after all, I do have a headlamp. He wants my wind-up flashlight because the flashlight he finally bought for himself once he broke my other one isn't as bright as the wind-up flashlight I use (unwittingly, I introduced him to the concept of LED lights and now he's dissatisfied with local ones). So, if I think back to the other complaints I've written about in other letters, most of my culture clashes relate to money or possessions, things Americans hold dear because they are a symbol of our wealth, power, and independence. While wealth is a value here, and power to an extent for those few who have it, independence is almost a non-issue. Most of my culture clashes stem from my own stubbornness and willful nature conflicting with the reality of what life here is like. So what does that say? I still struggle with adapting myself to life here while trying to retain my American ways to keep myself sane, but sometimes the tension between those two drives me batty anyway. By the time I figure it out it will be time to leave, and I know I will not extend my Peace Corps service in this country. Ah well, we shall see…In happier news, my roof has been fixed just in time for the rainy season, whew! Still need to replace that ceiling panel, but one thing at a time. One interesting thing is that while Dembo was fixing my roof, he called down to me "I see one of your cats is here." I told him to stop hammering to let the cat get out (the hole that was covered was where they were entering my ceiling to get at the rats there), but he said "No, it will be fine." Well, later when the THREE cats who were trapped inside my ceiling started yowling, I tried to help them get out by standing on my trunk and holding one of my big wash basins for them to jump into. No dice. I eventually had to build a tower underneath the trapdoor in the ceiling and after another hour or so of crying, they worked up the courage to jump down. Everyday is a series of small adventures. I attached some pictures of them trapped in the ceiling, so you can see what I'm talking about regarding the missing ceiling panel.
I go back to village on Friday, the same day that the trainees go to their training villages, though they will go by the South Bank highway (since the rains are starting, I should say "mudway") at 9am while I leave by the North Bank highway at 6am. On Saturday, the school is supposed to have it "Speech and Prize Day," a awards ceremony for the best students in each grade and subject. Then finals start Monday the 25th and run until Friday. Sunday July 1 st I come back to Kombo for Warden training on the 2nd and the All-Volunteers meeting on the 3rd, then travel out to Tendaba for sessions with the trainees. Back to Dankunku Saturday the 7 th of July, last week of school the 9th-13th (I'm throwing parties for both 7th grade classes with certificates for the Top Boy/Girl, Best Notetaker, Best Attendance, and Most Improved Marks, prizes of school supplies which I think I'll give via raffle and maybe some puzzle games, and cookies and Foster Clarks juice mix). Next week I'll visit my new site in Bwiam and talk with the new host family about rent and what needs to be fixed in my house, then out to Tendaba for two weeks of helping trainees with Model School, then hopefully I'll move to my new house somewhere in the second week of August, which means I won't have time for a vacation because I'll need that time to get to know the village, where things are, how to find the school and the vegetable market, etc. and meet with my new counterpart at Fatima Senior Secondary School. Yamai told me I need to devote my time to teaching grade 10 maths and science at the SSS, then with my extra time work with the upper basic school, so that is what I intend to do, though I hear from the volunteer at the school now that Mr. Gomez, the headmaster, doesn't like to share "his" volunteer with anyone. We shall see who is the more headstrong, because while I am more than willing to teach classes with students who have a better handle on English, I refuse to be ordered about by someone just because they feel they are entitled by their position to do so. Over my time here I have greatly improved my control over my temper and have discovered more subtle ways to push my addenda, and I understand the cultural importance of working up through the hierarchy and not going around my counterpart, but I will do whatever I need to do what I believe is the right thing for my students/clubs/teachers and accept the consequences of my actions. And I just realized I sounded entirely like a vigilante in that statement. What I mean to say is that I have a better understanding of what I need to do to make sure good thing happen, and with improved patience I am also more determined to make a positive impact during the time given me. Oy, I could never be a diplomat, I mean what I say too much.
Back in Dankunku things are much the same. I'm thoroughly disappointed in my host father and school headmaster because of some money issues. Before I came to Kombo last time my host father "ate" the advanced rent he asked for, which he said he would use to buy rice for the family. Instead, he used it to buy cement for the new addition he's adding to his personal house, and he had the courage to ask me for the money because I had been trying to help the family finish a house they're building in the compound with monetary donations, which were also "eaten" by my host father to improve his own house. "No good deed goes unpunished" as they say, but I won't give him money help ever again, only to the wives. As to Mr. Sane, he had the gall to ask me for 2,400 D as a loan for some personal problems he has, and when I told him that I don't give out money, he then said "Well, then just give me 500 D as a grant." When I asked him if he knew a grant doesn't have to be repaid, he replied "Yes, exactly, give it to me as a gift." I almost blew up at him since I still had anger regarding my host father, and because I know Mr. Sane has borrowed money from the garden committee, the Scouts, and the sports committee, adding up to a few thousand dalasis and which he has not repaid. It's very difficult to be here in situations like that, when there is such a culture clash (here, if you have money or anything else of value, you share it, no questions asked) and no matter of explaining will make them understand your perspective, it's only "You have it, I don't, so you should give it to me." Another volunteer explained it a better way. "In The Gambia, nothing is yours, it's everyone's. That's why strangers can walk into your house and take water, or villagers can come take your hammer or your donkey cart without asking and tell you about it later, because none of it is yours to begin with. You may have possession of it, but it belongs to everyone and everyone has an equal right to use it." I think some sort of line needs to be drawn regarding money, though. And there isn't much sentimental value attached to objects, either. For instance, my host brother Dembo, who "borrowed" one of two wind-up flashlights my grandparents gave me until he forgot he was only borrowing, told me that when I leave for Bwiam I need to give him my other wind-up flashlight because he broke the one I had "given" him. He could not grasp the concept that I don't want to give it to him because it came from my grandparents and that when I use it, it reminds me of family camping trips with them. And the fact that I still use it means nothing to him either; after all, I do have a headlamp. He wants my wind-up flashlight because the flashlight he finally bought for himself once he broke my other one isn't as bright as the wind-up flashlight I use (unwittingly, I introduced him to the concept of LED lights and now he's dissatisfied with local ones). So, if I think back to the other complaints I've written about in other letters, most of my culture clashes relate to money or possessions, things Americans hold dear because they are a symbol of our wealth, power, and independence. While wealth is a value here, and power to an extent for those few who have it, independence is almost a non-issue. Most of my culture clashes stem from my own stubbornness and willful nature conflicting with the reality of what life here is like. So what does that say? I still struggle with adapting myself to life here while trying to retain my American ways to keep myself sane, but sometimes the tension between those two drives me batty anyway. By the time I figure it out it will be time to leave, and I know I will not extend my Peace Corps service in this country. Ah well, we shall see…In happier news, my roof has been fixed just in time for the rainy season, whew! Still need to replace that ceiling panel, but one thing at a time. One interesting thing is that while Dembo was fixing my roof, he called down to me "I see one of your cats is here." I told him to stop hammering to let the cat get out (the hole that was covered was where they were entering my ceiling to get at the rats there), but he said "No, it will be fine." Well, later when the THREE cats who were trapped inside my ceiling started yowling, I tried to help them get out by standing on my trunk and holding one of my big wash basins for them to jump into. No dice. I eventually had to build a tower underneath the trapdoor in the ceiling and after another hour or so of crying, they worked up the courage to jump down. Everyday is a series of small adventures. I attached some pictures of them trapped in the ceiling, so you can see what I'm talking about regarding the missing ceiling panel.
I go back to village on Friday, the same day that the trainees go to their training villages, though they will go by the South Bank highway (since the rains are starting, I should say "mudway") at 9am while I leave by the North Bank highway at 6am. On Saturday, the school is supposed to have it "Speech and Prize Day," a awards ceremony for the best students in each grade and subject. Then finals start Monday the 25th and run until Friday. Sunday July 1 st I come back to Kombo for Warden training on the 2nd and the All-Volunteers meeting on the 3rd, then travel out to Tendaba for sessions with the trainees. Back to Dankunku Saturday the 7 th of July, last week of school the 9th-13th (I'm throwing parties for both 7th grade classes with certificates for the Top Boy/Girl, Best Notetaker, Best Attendance, and Most Improved Marks, prizes of school supplies which I think I'll give via raffle and maybe some puzzle games, and cookies and Foster Clarks juice mix). Next week I'll visit my new site in Bwiam and talk with the new host family about rent and what needs to be fixed in my house, then out to Tendaba for two weeks of helping trainees with Model School, then hopefully I'll move to my new house somewhere in the second week of August, which means I won't have time for a vacation because I'll need that time to get to know the village, where things are, how to find the school and the vegetable market, etc. and meet with my new counterpart at Fatima Senior Secondary School. Yamai told me I need to devote my time to teaching grade 10 maths and science at the SSS, then with my extra time work with the upper basic school, so that is what I intend to do, though I hear from the volunteer at the school now that Mr. Gomez, the headmaster, doesn't like to share "his" volunteer with anyone. We shall see who is the more headstrong, because while I am more than willing to teach classes with students who have a better handle on English, I refuse to be ordered about by someone just because they feel they are entitled by their position to do so. Over my time here I have greatly improved my control over my temper and have discovered more subtle ways to push my addenda, and I understand the cultural importance of working up through the hierarchy and not going around my counterpart, but I will do whatever I need to do what I believe is the right thing for my students/clubs/teachers and accept the consequences of my actions. And I just realized I sounded entirely like a vigilante in that statement. What I mean to say is that I have a better understanding of what I need to do to make sure good thing happen, and with improved patience I am also more determined to make a positive impact during the time given me. Oy, I could never be a diplomat, I mean what I say too much.
~Hannah Banana :-)
posted by Hannah | 9:44 AM
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