22-23 November, 2008
Saturday morning we left for another trip to Tumani Tenda. It was very relaxing, just like last time. We canoed again, but this time we also visited the community garden and met with the herbal medicine man, who showed us some of the plants and their various medical uses.
The meeting with the medicine man in itself was another display of the tequila shot, the amazing intertwining of languages in such a small country. The medicine man explained the uses of each plant to us in Jola. A worker at the lodge translated from Jola to Mandinka, and from there our language teacher Babukar translated into English. The knowledge of herbal medicine that the man has is amazing. It took him 15 years of training to become an herbal doctor. So many different parts of different trees, roots, bushes and leaves have medicinal properties. The knowledge he have is vast and invaluable, especially when the average person cannot afford the manufactured medicine of the West. It is ironic though, that many of the Western medicines are derived from the herbal medicines of traditional healers. If only Western drug companies would take some time to relearn the ways of the medicine men, medical care would be more affordable for all, and for the benefit of the community rather than for a corporation.
The other guests at Tumani Tenda were very interesting as well. There was a retired British couple on a bird watching holiday, a group of Dutch people who just completed a transcontinental road rally, and a young Dutch couple that just came from Senegal.
There were two men and two women who just completed the Amsterdam Dakar Challenge. This Challenge is an adventure where people drive from Amsterdam to Dakar both for adventure and for charity. The cars or 4x4s driven are supposed to cost around 500 Euros, although that is a guideline only. 250 Euros are to be used for repairs. The cars are adorned with advertisement stickers from sponsors. The autos are driven all the way south to Dakar, through many changing climates. The journey takes about 3 weeks. After the rally is finished the cars are donated to a charity. The only catch is that Senegalese law states that any car over five years old cannot be left in Senegal, so the cars are donated either in the Gambia or in Mali. I would love to be a part of the trip some day.
The young Dutch couple appeared to be hippie types and were living out of a monstrous yellow Mercedes van. It was the type that is usually used for a gelleh gelleh, but this one was set up for residential use, and it had some nice paintings of vines on it. I would love to have the van personally. They had spent the past two and half months building a school in Senegal and now were taking a break through the Gambia. The weekend consisted of a very interesting group all in all.
On our way out of Tumani Tenda we stopped to talk to one of the women in the village. She is a Dutch woman who is the second wife of a Muslim Gambian. It was really interesting to talk to her, especially since she is involved in a polygamous relationship as a Christian raised in a culture where polygamy is unaccepted and illegal. It is a strange concept I know, but after living here for almost 3 months polygamy seems perfectly normal. The strange part is that she is Dutch.
The woman has been living in the Gambia since 1991 working in Agricultural development. Now that she has a family she is working for a construction company since the hours are more standard. She works in the city during the week and spends the weekends in Tumani Tenda with her husband, kids, and wife and other kids. Her kids live with her in Kombo during the week to go to school.
She said that the other wife asked her to marry into the family. It is strange, but I assume what happened is that she was hanging around a lot with this woman’s husband and the first wife got fed up with it and wanted her to be a part of the family. Whatever the reasoning behind it, I don’t know, but a particularly interesting thing is the way that the kids are being raised.
They are being raised both Christian and Muslim. Their half brothers and sisters are being raised Muslim and speak Jola as a first language and then Mandinka. The husband speaks Jola and Mandinka and likely Wolof, but doesn’t speak any English. The Dutch woman is fluent in Mandinka, Englsih, Dutch and Afrikans, doesn’t speak Wolof and is learning Jola, especially from her kids. She is a South African by birth but was raised in Holland. Tumani Tenda is a Jola village, so her kids are playing with Jolas and their brothers and sisters speak Jola. She speaks to her husband and to the people in the village in Mandinka, since almost everyone there and in most places understand it. She raises her kids in Afrikans, however. Her kids speak Afrikans, Mandinka and Jola at home, and because of the similarities between Afrikans and Dutch, they are also learning Dutch. There are studying in Kombo. Classes in the schools are held in English, so they also know English. Most of the kids in Kombo speak Wolof, so in a few years time, they are also likely to pick up Wolof.
Imagine the kids of a woman with South African, Dutch and Gambian citizenship and a Gambian man living in a rural Jola village. The kids are both Dutch and Gambian citizens, raised in a completely new blend of cultures. It is very interesting, horribly mind boggling and revolutionary. With no problem at all the kids will be fluent in English, Mandinka, Jola, Dutch, Afrikans and probably Wolof. Then if they go off to college they are likely to learn French or Spanish.
It is unthinkable to be able to know 5 or 6 languages with no trouble at all. That is the kind of place the Gambia is. People routinely know two to three languages, and usually bits and pieces of more. They know all these languages regardless of their educational background. Here multilingualism is a part of life. It is a given. If anything is the true tequila shot, then it is the kids of a Dutch woman and Gambian man living in Tumani Tenda, The Gambia.
Yawn.
I wrote the past sections of this blog a week ago. It has taken me a week to getting around editing and posting it. Just a few minutes ago I remembered that I’ve yet to tell you about what happened when my fortune was told to me. I’ll tell you what I remember.
In the village we went to see a particularly well respected man. He is the alkalo (village chief), the imam and the marabou. We had been introduced to him before as the alkalo, but this time we went to see him in marabou form.
Marabous are traditional healers and spiritual guides who are also village elders and very well honored. Here they are often Muslim, as it is a Muslim country, but marabous practice animist traditions. The practice is integrated with either Muslim or Christian vibes or none at all.
We each went to have our fortunes told by the marabou, translated via Babucar. I don’t know how much I buy into the validity of the marabou’s decree nor if I believe it, but I imagine he is a hell of a lot more genuine than the back alley crystal ball sequin wearing seers of the USA. Below is my mangled memory of what he told me.
He started off by saying some prayers and reading some verses from the Koran. He had his prayer beads sitting on top of the holy book and he asked me to select one of the beads. I selected one and he took it, meditated for a bit, read something in Arabic and then told me my fortune.
The marabou said first of all that I have doubts about how long that I will live, but God willing I will live a very long life. He continued that I had doubts about whether I will have a kid, and I will have one. He said that I will travel for much of my life, and wherever I go I will be very well received and I will want to stay there and settle down. I should not do this he said, but rather I should return to my home, for if I stay too long in one place I will run into misfortunes. I will be very prosperous and successful one day, but this will not be my own doing. Instead someone will help me get started and from there I will be successful on my own accord. I was missing something, but I told him I did not think that I was missing anything. He said that someone young like me took what I was missing, and soon I would realize what was gone, but I’ve yet to find out what is missing. I will be a great leader of people, but he is not sure how I will be leading people. In the near future I will be meeting with someone and the end result will be in my favor. Whatever is decided will happen. I am to wear a silver bangle on my right wrist, but only after the proper sarax (English spelling sarahh, meaning charity) is given out. This band is to be worn at all times and will be the symbol of my leadership. I then told him that I have a silver bangle but it was in Kanifing and I didn’t have it with me that weekend. He told me that before I put it back on I must go through a sarax to ensure my good fortune. He said that I should avoid crime, because I might be caught up in it in some way. Before putting the bangle back on I should give out seven candles and seven kola nuts wrapped in Koranic scripture to elders and seven pieces of bread to children. These goods must first be blessed and upon giving my charity I would in turn be blessed b y those people.
A few days later I put the bangle back on my left hand without going through with the charity. I hope that the bangle can still be a symbol of leadership though, whatever it might be.
Santa Yalla (Thank God in Wolof)
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment