Counting Down to America...
In the time since my last blog, plenty has happened. I’ve gone through my COS (Close Of Service) conference and now have slightly over six weeks left in country. That’s six weeks to write my DOS (Description Of Service), any letters of recommendation I want my bosses to sign off on, tutor my new student who’s retaking his grade twelve exam in biology, help Mariatou with her reading, write and give my final exams, say goodbye to people at the school, hospital, etc., make sure my family will be okay when I leave (i.e. buy them rice and oil to last them through the rainy season), pay Binta’s school fees and also Ebrima’s if his family will allow me…The list goes on.
Ebrima’s situation is one that happens often in The Gambia: his three older brothers are in school but the family doesn’t have any extra money to send him. Ebrima is currently eleven years old and despite the fact that he has only ever been to Dara (school for learning the Q’uran), he understands English very well. I met him when I bought peanuts from him at the ‘cafeteria’ area where the children go during their break. I befriended and over time came to learn his story. My goal is to gain permission from his parents to allow him to attend school from grade 1-6 if I pay for it. I can leave a deposit at the school which they would withdraw from each year to cover his schools fees, plus draw up a contract and make several copies of it to insure Ebrima is able to complete school up through grade 6. By that time his older brothers should be mostly done with school and it is hoped that there will be money within the family to continue his education up through grade 9, maybe even grade 12. But he is too smart for me to not to try and help him complete at least up to grade 6. Of course, my idea of ‘saving him’ might not work out—his family may need him to sell peanuts or other things to help earn money. Keep Ebrima in yours thoughts and prayers.
Last week I had the unique opportunity of seeing a nursery school for refugees from the Cassamance. The villagers of Jilanfare, a Jolaa village very close to the border with Cassamance, has been taking in refugees since 1983. A few years back, some of the farmers started an informal nursery school for the children, although it was difficult because some of the children come from a very long way so school often cannot start until 10 and then has to close by 11 so that the children can be home for lunch. Besides that, the school often can only be in session from October to May because the farmers need to go to their fields. They are entirely unpaid for their time. With some help from a local NGO called St. Joseph’s Family Farm (known by locals as simply “poultry”) and the US Embassy, the villagers of Jilanfare were able to build a beautiful two-room school for the children to study in. The new US Ambassador came to the ribbon-cutting ceremony for the school and some of us local PCVs were invited to the event. The villagers put on a lovely ceremony (with too many officials talking too long, as always) with the children singing and findoo (like coos) for lunch. Afterwards we went walking along a road and one of the workers from St. Joseph’s came running after us, shouting and waving his arms for us to stop. When he caught up with us he informed us we were in Cassamance—we were still in site of the women cooking!—and if we kept walking along that particular road for another couple kilometers we would probably run into landmines. Very sobering thought. All in all, it was an uplifting experience to see locals who took the initiative. The school currently needs a fence to keep the children from wandering away, plus a kitchen (once they have a kitchen, they can apply to World Food Program and thus be able to give the kids lunch so the school day can last longer), pay for the teachers would be nice, and the village could probably use a new well. They asked the ambassador to help with these projects; I hope the embassy can help, though if not I know St. Joseph’s will do their best and the villagers will find a way.
In other news, I have switched from Oregon Health and Science University to Georgia State University for my Master of Public Health degree because Georgia State has given me a GRA (Graduate Research Assistantship), meaning they waive my tuition and give me a small living stipend. I don’t know which lab I will be working in yet, but there are a few labs interested in me because of my strong desire to do international research. So I’m trying to figure out the details, like finding an apartment and eventually a car. The apartment is more important to me because of the fact that I have been living in a compound with more than 30 people and I desperately, desperately need a quiet place that is mine and mine alone. As nice as it is waking up to women pounding each morning, I can’t wait to fall asleep someplace where reggae music isn’t blasting at eleven at night. Plus the fact that children won’t be sneaking into my house when I’m in my backyard or calling for me when I’m grading papers… *sigh* I will truly miss being mobbed by ten to fifteen children at a time whenever I come home from the school or hospital, though. The other day they were fighting over who would be the next to sit in my lap and have their fingernails clipped—add that to my list of “Things I never thought I’d do in Africa!”
I am freaking out more than a little about readjusting to America. I leave The Gambia on July 12th and thirty-one hours later I will be back in Oregon after two years and seven days without seeing my family or America. Then I’ll only have two weeks with them before I have to move to Atlanta since GSU starts August 18th. Yikes! I’ll definitely be jumping right back into the culture. I’m worried that I have changed too much, that I’ll have too much disdain with American consumption or not be able to handle the huge amount of choices Americans make every day. I’ve heard stories of RPCVs (Returned Peace Corps Volunteers) breaking down in supermarkets. Plus there’s the fact that I was a stress-junkie before I left and while I know that with grad school, then medical school and residency, I’m going to have to be one again, I don’t want to lose the part of me that’s come to appreciate sitting in the compound and watching the baby goats run around for hours at a time. That’s part of the reason I want to do international research (I’m more interested in improving public nutrition in impoverished countries than studying obesity in the states); so that I won’t go too long without seeing people that I can help.
Speaking of which; I’ve only heard a little bit about the food crisis hitting the world. Rice in The Gambia has jumped up more than 200 dalasis (about $10) per kilo, from 600 to 850, and will increase again at the end of the summer to at least 1,000. President Jammeh has put an artificial cap on the price of rice until September so that there are still a few months to try and stock up. I’ve come to accept my role as provider for my family since Tofey still hasn’t come home. I’m the only one with a steady job, so it is my duty to look after the women. That’s why I’m buying rice and oil before I go; my last paycheck from Peace Corps is going towards food for my family. There’s also going to be a mandatory meeting around the beginning of June about more ways that PCVs can help their families and villages to cope with the food crisis. That’s when I’ll be back in Kombo so I should be able to update then with what’s going on.
Kasumai kep,
Hannah Banana
Ebrima’s situation is one that happens often in The Gambia: his three older brothers are in school but the family doesn’t have any extra money to send him. Ebrima is currently eleven years old and despite the fact that he has only ever been to Dara (school for learning the Q’uran), he understands English very well. I met him when I bought peanuts from him at the ‘cafeteria’ area where the children go during their break. I befriended and over time came to learn his story. My goal is to gain permission from his parents to allow him to attend school from grade 1-6 if I pay for it. I can leave a deposit at the school which they would withdraw from each year to cover his schools fees, plus draw up a contract and make several copies of it to insure Ebrima is able to complete school up through grade 6. By that time his older brothers should be mostly done with school and it is hoped that there will be money within the family to continue his education up through grade 9, maybe even grade 12. But he is too smart for me to not to try and help him complete at least up to grade 6. Of course, my idea of ‘saving him’ might not work out—his family may need him to sell peanuts or other things to help earn money. Keep Ebrima in yours thoughts and prayers.
Last week I had the unique opportunity of seeing a nursery school for refugees from the Cassamance. The villagers of Jilanfare, a Jolaa village very close to the border with Cassamance, has been taking in refugees since 1983. A few years back, some of the farmers started an informal nursery school for the children, although it was difficult because some of the children come from a very long way so school often cannot start until 10 and then has to close by 11 so that the children can be home for lunch. Besides that, the school often can only be in session from October to May because the farmers need to go to their fields. They are entirely unpaid for their time. With some help from a local NGO called St. Joseph’s Family Farm (known by locals as simply “poultry”) and the US Embassy, the villagers of Jilanfare were able to build a beautiful two-room school for the children to study in. The new US Ambassador came to the ribbon-cutting ceremony for the school and some of us local PCVs were invited to the event. The villagers put on a lovely ceremony (with too many officials talking too long, as always) with the children singing and findoo (like coos) for lunch. Afterwards we went walking along a road and one of the workers from St. Joseph’s came running after us, shouting and waving his arms for us to stop. When he caught up with us he informed us we were in Cassamance—we were still in site of the women cooking!—and if we kept walking along that particular road for another couple kilometers we would probably run into landmines. Very sobering thought. All in all, it was an uplifting experience to see locals who took the initiative. The school currently needs a fence to keep the children from wandering away, plus a kitchen (once they have a kitchen, they can apply to World Food Program and thus be able to give the kids lunch so the school day can last longer), pay for the teachers would be nice, and the village could probably use a new well. They asked the ambassador to help with these projects; I hope the embassy can help, though if not I know St. Joseph’s will do their best and the villagers will find a way.
In other news, I have switched from Oregon Health and Science University to Georgia State University for my Master of Public Health degree because Georgia State has given me a GRA (Graduate Research Assistantship), meaning they waive my tuition and give me a small living stipend. I don’t know which lab I will be working in yet, but there are a few labs interested in me because of my strong desire to do international research. So I’m trying to figure out the details, like finding an apartment and eventually a car. The apartment is more important to me because of the fact that I have been living in a compound with more than 30 people and I desperately, desperately need a quiet place that is mine and mine alone. As nice as it is waking up to women pounding each morning, I can’t wait to fall asleep someplace where reggae music isn’t blasting at eleven at night. Plus the fact that children won’t be sneaking into my house when I’m in my backyard or calling for me when I’m grading papers… *sigh* I will truly miss being mobbed by ten to fifteen children at a time whenever I come home from the school or hospital, though. The other day they were fighting over who would be the next to sit in my lap and have their fingernails clipped—add that to my list of “Things I never thought I’d do in Africa!”
I am freaking out more than a little about readjusting to America. I leave The Gambia on July 12th and thirty-one hours later I will be back in Oregon after two years and seven days without seeing my family or America. Then I’ll only have two weeks with them before I have to move to Atlanta since GSU starts August 18th. Yikes! I’ll definitely be jumping right back into the culture. I’m worried that I have changed too much, that I’ll have too much disdain with American consumption or not be able to handle the huge amount of choices Americans make every day. I’ve heard stories of RPCVs (Returned Peace Corps Volunteers) breaking down in supermarkets. Plus there’s the fact that I was a stress-junkie before I left and while I know that with grad school, then medical school and residency, I’m going to have to be one again, I don’t want to lose the part of me that’s come to appreciate sitting in the compound and watching the baby goats run around for hours at a time. That’s part of the reason I want to do international research (I’m more interested in improving public nutrition in impoverished countries than studying obesity in the states); so that I won’t go too long without seeing people that I can help.
Speaking of which; I’ve only heard a little bit about the food crisis hitting the world. Rice in The Gambia has jumped up more than 200 dalasis (about $10) per kilo, from 600 to 850, and will increase again at the end of the summer to at least 1,000. President Jammeh has put an artificial cap on the price of rice until September so that there are still a few months to try and stock up. I’ve come to accept my role as provider for my family since Tofey still hasn’t come home. I’m the only one with a steady job, so it is my duty to look after the women. That’s why I’m buying rice and oil before I go; my last paycheck from Peace Corps is going towards food for my family. There’s also going to be a mandatory meeting around the beginning of June about more ways that PCVs can help their families and villages to cope with the food crisis. That’s when I’ll be back in Kombo so I should be able to update then with what’s going on.
Kasumai kep,
Hannah Banana
posted by Hannah | 7:13 PM
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