Vans, Crocodiles, Flying Saucers

Wanterr and Tumani Tenda: September 26-29

Thursday evening post Spanish blog.

We had a language and culture lesson at 3:30 with Auntie Awa. It turned out to be mostly a cultural lesson. We talked about a variety of cultural differences. Awa teaches us language and she also teaches for Peace Corps. She told us the story of her marriage to her husband. Awa is in her 40s and with that in mind, she is quite the progressive Muslim woman. To start she is educated, but she and her husband who also worked at the Peace Corps dated before marriage. That rarely happens in a culture of arranged marriage, although the times are changing. She also said that educated women in this society often have problems in their marriages because they are too empowered. Her daughter is dating although she is trying to keep it a secret from her mother. It is not widely accepted in the Islamic spectrum although it happens in practice.

Afterwards Auntie Yamai came by and we had a house meeting which concluded in a group hug. Yamai also brought a coffee pot by the house, so I have a means of brewing my Peruvian coffee. I might resort to brewing coffee in the Senegalese style though, through a piece of cloth.

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Friday morning. Friday morning. Class at 8:30am? Far too early. Mr. Femi is gone to Angola this Koriteh week, for pursuits that were not made known to me. I might find out later. In order to catch up on time, we had an extra class on Friday morning. It was held in our compound which made it nice and convenient. I’m usually alive and well by that time of the morning, but it was still a class before 10:30am.

After class with Femi, Awa came by the house to accompany us to the Banjul market to take advantage of the Wanterr (pre-Koriteh) sales on fabric. Everyone wears their best on the feast day. If you can afford it you have a new outfit made, but first and foremost something new must be made for the kids. Even if it is the cheapest fabric, for the kids it must be new, or they will be mocked by their peers. That’s what I’ve been told; I was never a little kid at Koriteh.

Half of us rode in one cab and half in another to the end of Jimpex. I was in the group which consisted of the guys. Awa flagged down a cab with an older military man in the front seat. When we reached the end of Jimpex and gave our money to the drayeba, he would not take it. The Colonel insisted on paying. It turned out that he was Awa’s uncle, so they might not be related at all.

We got out and waited for the rest, but they never appeared. Finally I saw Awa’s bright pink head rap across the highway and we met them there. We were looking for each other in the wrong places.

Taxi ride to Banjul. Wait for a while wondering where the others are. Wait some more. Walk down the street and buy a fish pie for 5 Delasis (20 cents). Wait some more. Wonder where they are. Tired of waiting, walk into the market. Wait some more. Finally see them. They had problems securing transportation or something ambivalent like that. There taxi disappeared and they were waiting for it but it never returned. No worries, plenty of transportation.

After meeting up with everyone in the group we went in search of fabric. There were mounds of brightly colored fabrics waiting to be made into caftans or daaget ak maalan. Seas of people in search of the perfect cloth. Noise, excitement, colors. The dealers were stirring up attention attracting people to their stands. I witnessed a woman and a man fighting over the last 6 meters of a beautiful fabric the color of periwinkles. After surveying the area, and prices I went in for the kill. I bought 5 meters of a blue and white embroidered fabric which I plan on having made into a daaget ak maalan for my mother…unless a tailor happens to get my order wrong and makes it into a caftan in my size.

I walked into the depth of the markets and saw different kinds of fish, foods, clothing, shoes and everything within and without. Towards the back of the market I saw some excellent tie die and mahogany carvings. I pointed them out to Awa and she asked the price while I walked away. It’s not that I’m incapable of asking, but she insisted that they would give her a different price than me. Too bad I had too little money to buy anything else. I will go back to the market someday soon, with time and Delasis. Soon after, Awa ran into her “sister” and we went to her shop. She has some incredibly nice pre-made clothing, but dafa seer.

I decided that I should probably make it to my 3 o’clock Environmental Management class in something that resembles timeliness. Two of the people with me decided that they weren’t going and were going to continue the trip to the market (after all, it is with the language and culture teacher for one of our courses). Dan accompanied me back, since he had to meet someone that evening.

We made a roundabout way out of the market and eventually returned to the town square. I bought another fish pie. I’ve yet to discover how I don’t get sick from these fish concoctions that sit out in the heat all day long. And it was a Friday, the hottest day of the week.

Dan and I tried to get a transport to Serekunda but it was prayer time and so it was a futile effort. I was sufficiently parched, and since I am a bad Muslim I was not fasting. I stopped into get a cold Coke at a restaurant. There was a sign outside that said they cost 10 Delasis, but the people inside told me 15. They said that the sign was wrong. Dan left, but I stayed and paid 10.

After the refreshments we went in search of transportation again. There were plenty of cabs willing to drive us, but cabs are too expensive. I flagged down a new VW van, but it appeared that it was private because it was in good shape and not stuffed with passengers. They stopped and Dan and I and an old man hopped on after finding out that they were passing by Jimpex. The van had Guinea Bissau decals on it. A 14 year old boy explained to us that he was going to an international school and was from Guinea Bissau. His younger cousin was sitting next to him and his dad and uncle were up front. They didn’t seem to be short on any funds. On the ride to Jimpex the van stopped at some auto parts stores, I presume for motor oil. They then dropped us off at Jimpex. If you’ve not figured it out that was my first experience hitchhiking here. I highly recommend it…would you believe that I am serious? The Peace Corps engage in a hitchhiking race each year. I think it is held in the spring though.

Dropped off at Jimpex, walked towards the house. I ran into a classmate of mine, and he asked me if I was going to class. I went back to the house and got the books and showed up on Gambian time. It turns out that the others arrived just about the same time as us. Rachel who stayed at the compound, had forgotten that class was moved from 3 to 3:30, so we arriver fashionably on time. Someone in the class arrived 45 minutes after us. Not too bad.

Next day.

We were to leave for Tumani Tenda, an upcountry village on the banks of a branch of the Gambia River at 9am and arrive in time for lunch. The van got lost or something. We left our compound eventually and made it out to the village. It was a beautiful place set on a salty river with mangroves caressing the calm of the water. There were palms and other beautiful trees growing everywhere. The rich rows of soil were guarded by the palms towering overhead. Cows and goats roamed freely.

When we arrived in the village we were greeted by the villagers who would be caring for us that weekend. Tumani Tenda is an ecotourism village. The village of 300 people and 7 families was founded sometime in the early 70s. The Alkalo (village elder) explained to us that his father said that someday there would be a village where foreigners would visit. His father died before the tourist camp was started in 1999. The founding father picked a beautiful place on the river, and saw a dirt road built from his village out to the main highway. Tumani’s wishes came true.

After the welcoming in the central eating/ socializing area, we were shown our accommodations. We stayed in huts which were really very nice. A bed and a mosquito net are all you need. We then had a fabulous lunch. After eating we had a tour of the village and greeted an old woman of some significance. We all introduced ourselves to her when prompted by our translator and host (Basiru) and repeated a series of greetings in Jola, and then she prayed for us all. The people of Tumani Tenda speak Jola, not Wolof. Then we paid our respects to the Alkalo and he welcomed us, talked about the village and gave us his blessing. We also asked him questions and he was happy to answer.

Even in the village of 300, there happened to be some Mendy’s (Christian last name), as we saw when there were men and women drinking Julbrew when we returned to our gathering place. A leisurely afternoon passed by playing cards, reading and resting into the evening.

In the evening the village men who were out fishing came back in with the catch of the day. The catch included lots and lots of tilapia, a few red snapper, barracuda and a scum sucking bottom dweller. They didn’t catch an attorney. The fish is evenly distributed between everyone in the village. The fish are never sold, and if there is extra it is given away to wayfarers and wanderers.

After the fish were unloaded, and the canoes cleaned out, I asked if I could take one of them out on the river. The canoes are heavy vessels, hand carved from mahogany trees. It is a long process to make the boats. A big canoe, which can hold 7 people and a load of netted fish, takes around 2.5 months to carve start to finish. The process starts with 10 to 12 people chipping away at the boat. When weariness takes over, the carver relaxes and someone else gets to work. Towards the end of the process only 2 people are working on the boat. It is sometimes finished off with paint, as we could see from the remnants of green on one the canoes. The fisherman of Tumani Tenda have 3 canoes, but they used to have 5. They hope to build another one shortly. Their big canoe is 8 years old and the boats usually last 5 years. There was a small hole in the boat, but nothing a human bilge couldn’t take care of.

Jamie and I ventured out into the water, and the men of the village directed us to the smallest canoe. We paddled around and explored a bit, and of course I had to be the captain in the back. The river was absolutely gorgeous. The brackish water was so tranquil. The clouds and the mangroves had a fine time of looking at themselves in the still water. No development on the river anywhere in sight. It was beautiful. I keep telling myself that someday I will come back with a kayak and do an expedition on the Gambia River and her tributaries. Someday.

After a while I dropped Jamie off, and I paddled up river on my own. At a bend in the river, I could hear people’s voices carrying over the calm of the water. I was certain that it was coming from the far side of the river, but who knows. I found out later that there are two neighboring villages, each about 3 kilometers away. The voices could have been people walking around outside of the village or an echo from Tumani Tenda against the mangroves and placid hydrogen dioxide. Did I mention that there were barracudas and crocodiles?

Using the time tested finger against the horizon trick, I made it in just before dark and the ominous thunderstorm that was taunting me while I was paddling. We had a nice dinner of chicken domoda (chicken and rice with peanut sauce; we might have had that at that time, I can’t remember) and then some of us had a second dinner of tilapia over rice.

I went to sleep relatively early, and woke up relatively early. The bed was very nice but Hatabu (who accompanied us) snored, and I was woken at 5:15am when Hatab was woken to break the fast. I continued my fast. That morning I went to the water and saw Basiru scooping water out of the big canoe which we were to go in. There was a very slow leak but nothing to worry about.

Breakfast was ready and I was the only one awake, so I ate. The people told me that it is there custom to eat if the food is ready and then eat a second breakfast with everyone else as if you never ate the first. Then later in the day you tell them that it was your second breakfast. One breakfast of eggs and tapalapa sufficed.

After breakfast 9 of us, including Basiru went out for a tour in the big canoe. There brought along 3 paddles, and the boat moved very slowly. After a while I decided to walk to the bow of the vessel and I sat down and lounged, looking back towards my colleagues. Dan suggested that I looked like a colonial master (which of course I did not), so I instructed them to paddle faster.

On the way back in I jumped out of the boat and swam back with the crocs. Erika joined me for a swim. Soon after we got back I applied some some tan lotion (aka sun shit) and Annie and I went back out on the water. A 20 something foot mahogany canoe is quite the heavy vessel for one or two people to manage. It glides very well, but maneuvers as if it were brought up in a community of 1950s era Cadillacs. Annie hopped out to go for a swim, and we were surprised at how stable it was when she attempted to get back in. Only one of her toes was eaten by a crocodile, and half a finger by a barracuda.

We had a leisurely lunch and then went back to the big city life.

It happened to be Sunday and since Sundays are beach days some of us went to the beach. Daniel Combs, Jamie Phillips, Rachel Mendy and Nathan Hesse made there way to Leybato at Fajara beach, while Anna Becker was confined to her bed. Erika Demare and Renee Angelo had a particular fascination with chicken nuggets. I’m convinced that it is the lips of the chicken that make that unique flavor.

At the beach, Jamie and Dan joined the PCVs for a game of beach rugby for about an hour and Rachel and I took a stroll down the beach. While wading through the shallows, four fit football guys called out to Rachel. These weren’t the bumpster types but rather genuine ball players. They wanted to take a picture with Rachel. I’m not sure if they were more attracted to Rachel or my Nikon, but either way, Rachel has 4 new boyfriends.

Currently I am sitting in the dark at 11:23 in the morning at the dining room table. I woke this morning to wind and rain competing for entrance into my two bedroom windows. I closed out the furious storm from my room as much as I could. We have no power, but fortunately the storm has made it cool enough to be comfortable without a fan.

I think that I am going upcountry today. I am not sure when, or for how long. Mod Talla is supposed to come by this morning to discuss it, but the morning is almost over. I’m not sure if discussing it means leaving right away or what. Time shall tell.

It’s now 4:13pm and I still don’t know when I am leaving.

Until Tomorrow.

Mr. Nathan Scott Hesse
Gambian alias, Nuha Sanneh

Post Script: A word about the crocodiles. They taste good.
PPS: Apparently there have been no problems with the crocodiles. They have not been seen in Tumani Tenda since around 1970. A combination of over hunting and pollution knocked them out. It’s too bad, really, it would have been nice to go swimming with them.