Part Two - It's Official - continuation of Dec 13 letter

After pulling ourselves across the river, we unloaded and drove maybe a kilometer to the second ferry crossing, where we had to wait another hour. This ferry was a little bigger and its motor was intact, so we were spared the arm workout. We learned from our previous loading experience, and put logs down before we tried to load the coaster, and it made it on just fine. I think the fact that the bumper was bent up 3 meters helped immeasurably! After the final crossing it was only a short 30 minute drive to Bansang, where we met up with the rest of the group at 6:00PM. We left the PC office at 8AM that morning.

Unfortunately, the Nursing School where we stayed in Bansang was a bit downtrodden. The showers were housed in a small concrete shell, the walls of which I was afraid to even touch. My foam mattress weighed about 50 pounds, with 90% of the weight coming not from the mattress, but from the mold, bacteria, and fungus. I assumed was living inside. So, I used my sandals to pull the mattress off the metal bed frame, making sure not to let it touch any part of my body, and put my Thermarest down on the frame instead. (Luckily I brought the Thermarest to sleep on during the site visit.) The showers also had the fun habit of refusing to drain, so as the little stall filled with water, I had to manuever myself around the growing cesspool in the center, all the while avoiding the muck-encrusted walls. It was a fun game to play, and it kept shower time interesting, but I found myself missing my bucket baths constantly.

The upside to the poor housing conditons was the presence of a volleyball court on the school grounds, which provided much needed exercise and stress relief in the evenings. A bunch of Gambians played there every night, and we had good , friendly matches with mixed Toubab and Gambian teams. The second night, however, the Gambians wanted to play the Tuobabs and it became a Team USA vs. Team Gambia showdown. We had one woman on our team and it was interesting to watch the Gambians try to form their team after they saw we had a woman. It was obvious that they wanted teams to be "fair" by having a woman on their team, but at the same time, none of the guys were willing to let one of the women play. The funny part was that they viewed having a woman as a handicap, when in realty Erin was probably our best player and certainly, our best server. Interesting cultural differences. The teams ended up being good matches, worthy of both countries, though the styles varied greatly. Team USA adopted the traditional bump-set-spike approach to the game, while Team Gambia seemed to play half soccer and half volleyball. Both strategies worked well enough, and we were tied up down to the end. A couple bad calls by the referees and some foul play by Team Gambia, fired up some members of our team and things got a little heated, tempers flared, but it was resolved with retaliatory foul play from Team USA. In the end, we pulled through and won, barely, with me serving out the game.

Now, back to the real reason we were at Bansang - technical field trips. We went to a number of interesting places that unfortunately , required extensive Coaster travel, so I had the pleasure of spending even more time in that vehicle. We visited the national Agricultural Research In stitute, NARI, which is a joint project between Taiwan and the Gambia. Their research is focused on improving agricultural techniques, practices, and crop yields in the Gambia - namely rice, since that's the crop of choice here. Although with rice being to water and labor intensve, it has always puzzled me why it is grown in such abundance in a country that basically abuts the Sahara Desert. One of the trainees in our group, Ben, was assigned to work there, so that he could assist them with their research and disseminate the results of the research to those of us in the field.

The following day, we went to YBK, which is a livestock research facility near Bansang. We learned about various methods of poultry production - for laying eggs and for meat consumption, and were shown examples of successful rabbit and small-ruminant raising projects. The highlight of the visit however, was watching a Halled goat slaughter. We were able to witness the whole procedure, from the slitting of the throat, (the Hallel way) to the inspection of the thyroid glands for signs of disease. The skin was saved for drum-making , and we ate the goat for lunch. We also visited the "Martha Stewart" of the Gambia, as an example of just how much one can do with a "mud hut". Her house was ridiculously nice, she had painted the walls, and had decorated everything very nicely. She also had really creative ideas for shelving, table, and storage space that I'm going to try to implement in my "mud hut". Our last day, we visited the Wassu Stone Circles, which are thought to be ancient burial sites for dignitaries and royal families. The stone circles are comprised of large rectangular blocks of laterite that were hewn from the local bedrock in nearby quarries. These blocks were then sunk into the ground and arranged in circles.

After Wassu, we all piled back into the Coaster and started the long frieve back to the Training Villages. Because the South Bank road is so bad, we went via the North Bank road, which meant 3 more ferry crossings. The two crossings at Janjanbureh went off without a hitch, and this time both motors were working so no cable-pulling was necessary. The last crossing was at Farafeni, where we would cross to Soma and catch the South Bank road the rest of the way to training village. However, the genius' who designed the crossing failed to take into account the affect of the tide on the river here, and at low tide, the ferry cannot move, it literally is stuck in the mud. We had the luck to arrive right in the middle of low tide. There was already a HUGE backup of vehicles when we arrived, and someone said they had been there for 2 hours already, and the ferry hadn't moved. Now that little piece of paper I mentioned earlier came in REAL handy here: we drove past a line of cars and trucks that must have been a kilometer long, right up to the stern of the ferry!! Even with our line-skipping privileges we still had to wait 2 hours. I hate to think how long those poor bastards at the back of the line had to wait!

After arriving in Soma, it was a simple matter of driving down that bumpy-as-hell South Bank road until we reached Bambako.
After all that traveling it felt great to be back in Bambako and back to a somewhat normal life. Our garden beds that we had dug and sewn before leaving for the field trips were a disaster - two plants germinated. No one had watered them in our absence - mainly because we lacked the language skills to ask someone to water them for us! So., I spent one afternoon re-digging the bed and replanting the seeds the PC had given us. I then spent the next several hours hauling enough water to the garden to last for the 8 days that I was going to be at Tendaba- so the small boy who was going to water for me didn't have to fetch the water (which is a lot of work to ask of someone). We were only in village for 4 to 5 days before heading back to Tendaba so I don't remember much of what happened.

One thing that stands out, however, was my first attempt at brewing ataya. A Tuobab in the Gambia cannot so much as read a book without having 10 curious pairs of eyes glancing over his shoulder, so when word got around that I was going to brew ataya one evening, you can imagine what the turnout was like. I have to admit, I was a little nervous at first, it's such a ritualized process, and I had a rather large audience watching my every move.

Ataya is brewed on a locally made miniature coal stove, whereby a small metal kettle is placed directly onto hot coals from one of the cooking fires. Once the water in the kettle was hot enough, I added the green tea directly into the kettle, and allowed it to brew for several minutes. Then, at the proper moment ( I was instructed by Bakery as to when this proper moment occured) I added about half a cup of sugar, which, considering that there was only about three-quarters of a cup of water in the kettle, amounts to a VERY sweet drink. (You can literally feel the cavities forming as you drink it). The mixture of water, tea, and sugar then sat for another proper period of time, unknown to me, before Bakary said it was ready. Now, if you'll recall, the ataya was being brewed in a metal kettle that was sitting directly on a bed of coals, and as we all know this makes for a very hot kettle. So, you can imagine my surprise when I was goaded unmercifully for picking up the kettle with my bandana so as not to scold my fingers, despite the fact that I had seen other people do the same thing with the empty tea box. Brewing ataya requires a great deal of mixing to get all the tea and sugar to properly dissolve and mix together. The mixing is done by pouring the scalding hot liquid back and forth between the metal kettle and what are basically 2 shot glasses, preferably at great heights. This is where the fun begins: with my bandana-clad hand, I took the kettle and filled one glass with ataya, from what I thought was respectable 4 or 5 inch height. It was not, everyone laughed at the Tuobab. Then I took the glass of ataya and poured it back into the kettle to continue the mixing , but it was so damn hot that I almost dropped the glass, and ended up spilling half the ataya onto the ground. Everyone laughed again. After several of these mixings, the ataya began to cool down enough where I was no longer scalding my fingers, and my confidence began to build. I got the height up another inch or two, and then Bakary said, it was enough. Again, that mysterious timing thing. Bakary put the kettle back onto the coals to heat it up just enough to burn the crap out of my finger during the second mixng phase - glass to glass.

While the ataya was heating up to scalding temperature, I washed the two glasses and the plate they were sitting on in preparation for the glass to glass mixing. Now, as far as I can tell, the second mixing phase has two goals, these are to further dissolve the sugar into the water, and to create a bubble, foamy, goodness in the two glasses - much like the frothy milk in a cappuccino. When the ataya was ready, I again took my bandana to grasp the kettle and filled up one glass with ataya. The brewer is supposed to pour the mixture back and forth many times without spilling. Well, it's a lot harder than t looks, as I soon discovered. I took hold of the burning glass and managed to endure the heat long enough to pour the ataya into the other glass at about a 6 inch height without spilling too much. I did this back and forth until Bakary said it was enough. At this point, about half the liquid remained in the glass, and there was only a barely discernible amount of foam in the glasses. I poured what was left of the liquid back into the kettle, being careful not to lose what little foam I had, and then filled both glasses halfway with ataya and served them to the oldest two people in the group, as one is supposed to do. After they finished they handed the glasses back, and I filled 2 more, passing them to the next 2 oldest people. This continues until the kettle is empty, which, in my case, happened about then. Usually, 3 or 4 rounds of glasses go out. But, I had spilled so much there was only enough for 2. That concluded the first brew. I had two more brews to go before the ataya-brewing was finished. Needless to say, it was a late night.

We left Bambako on November 6th to head back to Tendaba for a second round of training sessions. We were supposed to eat lunch in village, but we had been warned that lunch would be corned beef (essentially Spam, minus the pork) Neither Ben nor I had much of a liking for the stuff, so we departed for Tendaba early, with thoughts of cold beer and swimming pools fueling our desire to leave. It's amazing what a few weeks in village can do for one's appreciation of simple comforts. Tendaba seemed MUCH nicer the second time around, and the Julbrew might as well have been a Black Butte Porter (spelling?), it tasted so good. Not long after we arrived in Tendaba we noticed something a little out of the ordinary: there was a huge cruise ship steaming up the river towards us. Now , maybe I'm a little out of the cruise ship loop, but the last I checked, the Gambia River is not exactly the kind of 0f place most cruises go. For one thing, there's not a whole lot to see, but it was there nonetheless. We watched with further amazement as the ship proceeded to drop anchor out in front of Tendaba. We did a little investigating and found out that the cruise was stopping at Tendaba that night for an "African cultural experience" or something like that. We had visions of the ship being full of beautiful single Norwegians. They turned out to be Danish and really old. The cruise ship organizers, like the ferry designers, forgot about the tides, so they couldn't reach the dock with their Zodiacs, despite numerous hilarious attempts that we all observed while hanging out on the dock. The event was suppose to go off around 9ish so all the dancers, drummers, and other performers started practicing and playing around 8. The cruise ship folks couldn't even reach the dock until around 10 pm, so the show didn't get rolling until 11:30 pm. This basically meant that we all got a free show of the Jolas (that is the name of the ethnic group the performers were a part of)doing their thing, and performing for themselves. They had a bunch of dance contest among them selves, and were practicing different drummings and dances. It was really amazing to watch.

After a while the zodiacs started pouring in and that in itself, was a show as well. We observed the whole procedure from the bantaba on the dock, laughing quietly among ourselves, as boat after boat of gray haired Danes hobbled their way up the ladder and across the dock.
The boats had such presumptious names, such as "Sir Francis Drake, Marco Polo, Ernest Shackleton, and the like.
We had good fun with that too, calling out in posh English accents, ( ohh, hare omes the Sir Frances Drake 'cross the savage waters of the river Gambiah"). The show itself was rather impressive, the Gambians, for their part, went all out- it was amazing to watch. After the show there was a huge buffet of sea food and cold German beer that we had the opportunity to pillage, once the cruise shippers had left. Pillage we did.

A number of us had birthdays while we were staying Tendaba, and since mine fell in the middle of those birthdays we decided to have our party on the night of the 8th. We all got good and drunk and had ourselves a grand time drinking beer on the dock dancing under the Bantaba , and eventually having a dance party / skinny dip in the pool around 1 am. The night before , I buzzed my head down to 1/8 of an inch- the shortest its ever been- as a heat relief measure. ( It was a beautiful decision and I am going to keep it short all two years ). Before I completely buzzed it, I had Peter give me a wicked good mullet, complete with mud flaps and all. Not only did I have a hideously good mullet, but, by this time, I was also sporting an incredible dirty looking mustache. The whole effect was overwhelmingly redneck. Now I am afraid I must take a little diversion to explain just why I was sporting this sketchy 'stash. The PC swearing -in ceremony is held at the Ambassador's residence, and the current Ambassador allegedly has a rather good mustache. So it has been a PC tradition for the guys in the training group to sport mustaches for the swearing in ceremony, partly to make fun of the ambassador and partly to look just ridiculous. The mullet was more a spur of the moment idea, but its value was quickly recognized when we remembered we were going to the Kwinella School the following day to teach a class on environmental education! Despite looking like a total ass with my mullet and mustache, the teaching went really well and I enjoyed it immensely, although how Karissa and Tamara kept a straight face during our lesson was beyond me.

On November the 11th, our second to last day at Tendaba, we had the infamous " Marathon March". It used to be called the "Death March" but that name apparently didn't sit well with the politically correct, safety-conscious folks at PC admin, so it was changed a year or two ago. The Marathon March as its name suggests , is essentially a long, 27 Km, bushwack through the bush. Our route took us into Kiang West National Park and then back through the mango swamps along the river"s edge. I was basically " volunchosen" to be the rear guard in case there were any medical problems . We had a guide from Kiang West who was to lead the way and two second year "agfos" who had done the hike previously, also accompanied us. The first half of the hike - the outgoing leg-was pretty, but mundane hiking along a well traveled trail. The return leg- the bushwack, was a lot more interesting. It started out with a zig zagging route through ten foot tall elephant grass where not even the guide could have known where he was going- the stuff was just too thick and dense.

We eventually made our way to the edge of the mangrove swamps, and spooked a nearby baboon troupe. ( We had seen some smaller Patas monkeys earlier in the hike, but they didn't get nearly as close). The baboons were just as interested in us as we were in them, and a lot of them got pretty close- peering at us through the bush. There were always a handful of them up in nearby trees keeping an eye on us. Most of the group went on ahead, but 4 or 5 of us stayed back to watch the baboons more, since they were coming closer. I was supprised at how big they were- a couple of the big males that stayed up in the tree were the size of adolescent boys. The baboons would run around in the bush just out of sight , screaming, and then stop and look at us, and then run around some more. After awhile it became obvious that we were agitating them, as they started to scream a lot more, and come closer , and then, when we realized that they were attempting to circle us, we decided to leave. About 3 or 4 of the baboons followed us through the bush for about a km, pausing to glance at us , and hiding behind a log or a tree when we would turn and look at them. It was really amazing to see, and crazy to observe how humanlike their actions and mannerisms were. When we were safely out of their territory, the baboons took one last look at us, then disapeared back into the bush. Very cool.

The last day at Tendaba, we took a boat ride up a small tributary of the Gambia and saw an amazing array of different bird species. After the boat ride, it was time to bike back to Bambako for my final 10 days in training village. The End of This Letter.