Grafting in Gambia: Blackboard and Chalk

Not quite Champneys

I’d forgotten how therapeutic it was, writing with chalk on a blackboard. Sometimes I get carried away and forget that there are 70 students behind me and I’m taking an eternity to write a vital bit of information on the board (well they think it is vital). Two weeks teaching big people done and I really like it, not as daunting as I thought it would be. It’s a little bit like being on the stage and so far I’ve managed to learn my words, make them titter at the right bits and give the impression that I know what I am talking about. It does occasionally turn into a Little Britain sketch with me playing Matt Lucas and one of the unfortunate students the Indian lady in the dieting club. I haven’t quite tuned in to the Gambian accent and usually have to ask what has been said three times until eventually I guess. We often get our wires crossed and I followed one guy to the loo the other day thinking he’d asked for a word in private but it was actually permission to go and urinate. I’ll learn!

Earlier on in the week we had an unpleasant smell wafting through the classroom window. After apologising to the class that it wasn’t a very sweaty English teacher I discovered that a sheep had decided to pop its clogs outside the classroom door, eventually it was hauled away. Smells seemed to be the theme of the day. While I was teaching one of the many stray dogs took refuge in our office and when I got there it smelt like it should have been dead but was alive and kicking and was promptly given its marching orders.

Having run over with one of my lessons the R.E teacher was waiting for the class. I popped out to apologise and said that he could use the English classroom. Some of the class started to leave and just as I was ushering them back to their seats he informed me that he only took the Christians. So without thinking, as I do most things, I stood on a chair and yelled ‘Muslims out, Christians in!’ It wasn’t until I got down that I thought that wasn’t a very politically correct thing to say. The next day I thought that Allah was wreaking his revenge when one of the students turned up with a machete. I thought my time had come and my heart missed a beat. I later found out that it was college cleaning day and it was his job to chop down the weeds – phew!

Continuing with the animal theme. A quick update on the croc encounter a few weeks ago. I will no longer be petting any friendly looking crocodiles. One of the dear creatures escaped took refuge in a nearby well and decided to snack on one of the local children. I saw one of my favourite insects for the first time. A praying mantis, much smaller in the flesh but exactly like the pictures in the books. A favourite in the feminist fraternity because she eats her husband after copulation. Not that I am advocating that we humans should do the same. I have also had my first mouse/mice around to visit. Rachel tells me she has been able to dispatch three by bombarding them with a shower of shoes but I think hers must be a different breed. Mine seems to be the Usain Bolt of the mouse kingdom. Smoke trails follow him as he zooms around the room. I think I’ll leave him to it.

June’s tip of the week- Never leave a dead sheep festering in the baking sun for more than two hours.