The Temperature Drops

Getting across the river.

January already, time flies when you’re having fun and it’s nearly over. According to all reports there’s an epidemic of the January blues back in the UK. I put it down to short days and miserable weather. Thankfully it hasn’t spread south, the sun is still shining and the days are still twelve hours plus. I did have to take drastic measures one morning last week and had to don a sweatshirt and I’ve taken to wearing night clothes in bed so no more full moons here in Brikama.


Daily life plods on as normal. I still haven’t got used to cooking individual portions so my bean and veg soup/stew lasted a whole week and my bean burger mixture stretched out for five days. Being a tight northerner I couldn’t bear to throw it out. Just as well I’m in the house on my own as I seem to have OD’d on beans. We did have a treat last night though one of the Peace Corp girls got a food parcel from the States so we all dined on a Mexican delight. Mr Touray has also been sharing his garden produce, so far we’ve had bananas, oranges, papaya and tomatoes, things are looking up.

I’m still learning something new every day. Not doing too well with the language though, I think my brain is slowly converting to scrambled egg. I did find out that instead of going for your haircut you go to get your hair reduced. At least I’ll know what to ask for next time. I wonder if they’ll be able to reduce the grey as well.

One of my students recently invited me to a football tournament and introduced me to all his coaching colleagues, made me out to be some sort of celebrity. I felt like crawling under the table when he plonked me next to Gambia’s first international footballer (Biri,Biri age 64), must have thought we had age in common. One of the young players came up to ask me which team I supported and when I said I didn’t really have a team he suggested that I should support Arsenal. When I asked him why he said it was because I looked like Arsene Wegner. My celebrity status soon deteriorated after that.

June’s tip for the week – If you start to resemble ageing football managers seriously consider plastic surgery.

School Al-fresco

Food and Festivities

Sorry blog but I have neglected you just lately. First there was the trek Up Country and then Christmas was upon us. I’ll start with the trek.


Part of my job is to observe students on their teaching practices out in their schools and offer advice and support along the way. Our merry team of four plus driver set off one fine Sunday morning, only two hours late (typical for African time) and headed inland to region five. Six hours later we were there. What I thought was a nice bronze tan seemed to disappear down the plughole, which was to be the pattern for the following five days. We were really out in the sticks careering down dirt paths more suited for donkey carts and constantly covered in a layer of dust. It was a magical mystery tour only our leader gave the impression he knew where we were going. Nobody knew where we would stay each night or what we would eat but typical Gambian hospitality never let us down teachers made room for us in their meagre accommodation and always shared their food bowls with us. Not everybody’s cup of tea (I can see my mother’s face now). Sometimes a spoon would be available but generally it was right hands in, left hands being used for the other end. This was the real Gambia/Africa. People had very little but were willing to share, puts our materialistic society to shame. We visited a variety of schools all making the best they could from limited resources. One nursery classroom ended up doing their lessons under the mango tree as there was no room in the school. We did think that our tour might have to be cut short as our esteemed leader caught malaria but he was very noble and over our evening meal he declared that if he should die in the night we should just fling his body in the back and carry on with the observations. The next morning he made a miraculous recovery, I put it down to the African version of man flu. There is not an awful lot of big wildlife around in Gambia, I think it was all eaten years ago. One of the student teachers did surprise me when he said he had to pedal home quickly before it got dark so that the wolves didn’t get him. Even I knew Africa did not have wolves, I asked him to describe these wolves and it turns out that they were a sandy colour, covered in black spots with large salivating jaws to which I concluded that they were hyenas, he agreed that they were a special kind of wolf. Needless to say we kept the door of our digs tightly closed that night. Home safely a week later, I’ve never been so pleased to see a flushing loo.

All hands in

The school kitchen

Village Life



Then it was time to start our Xmas celebrations which started with our VSO BBQ, topped off with carols, pass the parcel, our very own skinny secret santa and stuffing flown in from the UK, a distinct lack of gravy though. Then it was my turn to climb onto that big white bird and head home for the festivities. I left in 35C and arrived in Gatwick -5C. Luckily my very loving hubby was waiting with coats, gloves and hats as a sweatshirt and flip flops didn’t seem to stave off hypothermia, funny that! The excitement started on the plane. Getting my little food parcel was better than opening presents on Christmas day. I peeled off the wrapping on my hot container and there staring up at me was a portion of broccoli and gravy – ‘orgasmic’. It got even better, there was little packs of cheese, cake and chocolates, little things please little minds. Christmas as my son would say was awesome, fun, friends and family all topped off with a mountain of food smothered in gravy. It had to end and it was back to Gatwick, a more civilised farewell over a cup of costa coffee this time and a cuddle over the security barrier. Six hours later I was back in my other life being driven by a taxi driver who had to hot wire the car to get it going, welcome back to Africa. Luckily the girls dragged me out that evening so there was no time to do any mopping around. We saw the new year in with an awesome style of Jola dancing. A guy covered in grass with a spike sticking out of his head which he planted into the ground and spun around like a whirling dervish. The prototype for break dancing I think. Like most people back to work on Monday – What will 2011 hold in store for us all?

 A chilly but beautiful Cumbria - what a contrast!

Our New Year's Eve Whirling Dervish

June’s tip for the week – Don’t wear flip flops when it is -5C