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
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