Sporting Success

Just like we have the FA Cup and Wimbledon at this time of year in the UK, we have our Inter-house athletics championships and inter department football tournament here at the college. I just happened to be invited as chief patron to the opening game of the football. I have a sneaky feeling I was given this honour because I’d chosen the biggest and gaudiest cup, got it engraved and cuddled it on my lap all the way back from my hols in the UK for it to arrive safely in the middle of an African football field. Anyway I thought I would just have to sit on the sideline and smile sweetly – wrong. Before the match along with my colleague we had to make our way down the line of the two teams shaking hands and trying to think of something encouraging and intelligent to say. I was trying desperately to think what the Queen and Princess Anne would do at times like this. In the end it just turned into a quick good luck.


Event number two was the athletics. We boarded the bus at the college, three to a seat and everybody else squashed like sardines in the aisles. So a sweaty start before we even got there. The girls were something else, best dresses, scarves, wigs, make-up, the lot! I said to myself they must have their kit in a bag but there were no bags to be seen. As the races commenced it was clear that their dancing kit also doubled up as running kit. The only addition was a pair of socks to protect feet as they pounded around the track. ‘Flo Jo’ couldn’t even compete with our girls in the glitter and sparkle stakes. A fun day was had by all with blue team coming up tops.

Are they running or dancing?

We are now into our last term and it seems like a mad dash to squeeze everything in. While the students are busy scribbling notes from the board I get the job of cuddling babies as Mum writes. This week I had a five week old little girl to rock to sleep. As I was cooing into her eyes I noticed something was a little odd. After taking a closer look with my specs on I realised that when Mum had applied her own make-up she also gave baby pencilled in eye brows. Seemingly it’s the done thing, nobody seemed to bat an eyelid.

I’ve just returned from my final trek of the year. This time the girls outnumbered the boys which was very unusual – girl power. Our team leader was also a fallen Muslim who liked a little tipple so when we got to our destination we just happened to seek out the only Christian compound in town that sold alcohol so we were all happy. We took a mini farmyard back with us. It all started with a chicken we bought for a birthday present which was shortly followed be a second and then two ducks all of whom kept slipping their shackles and flapping all over our bags. We then had to make an emergency stop wrestle our feathered friends to the ground and get back on the road. Never a dull moment.

Buying meat on trek. I don't think he has the correct coloured chopping board!

Victoria and mate hitching a lift.

Staff picnic on the beach

June’s tip of the Week – Use a reef knot when tying your ducks legs together.

A Ripping Time

Wow! That month went really fast. Probably because I spent half of it back home in good old Blighty. What an awesome time that was. The weather was remarkable, I think Nik must’ve had a word with mother nature to try her hardest over Easter as all the bluebells and cherry blossom just happened to spring into life as I hit the tarmac at Gatwick. My senses were definitely overloaded, it was extremely hard getting back on to that plane knowing that I wouldn’t be wandering through sun dappled woods carpeted with bluebells but dusty lanes scattered with varying sizes of blue and black poly bags broken up with the occasional mound of donkey doo! Monarch airlines did make it a little more of a pleasant experience as they gave us all a free glass of bubbly and two chocolates to celebrate the wedding of you know who.

The tribe tramping around High Cup Nick, The Pennines

Paddling across Windermere

Before embarking I did the dutiful wifey bit and went shopping for pressies. My idea for Nik and Tom was to get them some wild African trousers but as I was walking through the market some even wilder African shorts (see picture) caught my eye and my purse as they used only half the material required for trousers and as Nik is a keep fit nut so I thought they would be perfect for him to go training in. On arrival I presented the boys with their gifts and both smiled in an approving sort of way so as not to offend the old girl. Nik was so proud that he cycled to work in them the next day and led the staff circuit training session in the latest addition to his wardrobe. That was when disaster struck. At the height of his first star jump a loud rip could be heard and his back wheels fell out. I didn’t get any feedback on the comments made. I will just have to leave that to the imagination. In fact the shorts could be very symbolic of this wonderful continent I am working in. Parts of it are falling apart at the seams. I think I’ll give up on presents in the future.

Before the bottom fell out of his world.

Arriving back at my empty housey was a trifle depressing which was made even worse when I discovered I’d had a major break-in. Well that might be a slight exaggeration some opportunist ‘tea leaf’ had ripped the mosquito netting in my bathroom window and made off with two tubes of my finest toothpaste. I have narrowed the culprit down to having darkish skin with and extremely dazzling smile. So watch out thief, I’m on your case. Back to college today which made it all worthwhile. Lots of smiling students (no not the toothpaste thief), greeting me with something along the lines of ‘ Welcome back Madame June, we’ve missed you.’ Which always makes me titter inside because it sounds like I should be closely related to Ms Whiplash running a brothel as opposed to being Mrs Sensible trying to teach English.

June’s tip for the week – Always wear underpants when wearing African made garments.

A lovely hibiscus flower outside the house

Clucking Marvellous

Trek time again! That week in term time when they pack me off in a white pick-up truck with four other guys. This time I was the only girl so most nights I got a bed and a room all to myself. Only one night did I have to curl up with a complete stranger (female I hasten to add, just in case hubby starts to panic).  She was a very nice and hospitable lady but never the less I pulled my sleeping bag liner around my ears and squashed myself next to the wall. We didn’t have to venture too far from home this time but we were on the Casamance border (Southern Senegal), where we have all been banned from setting foot in due to rebel activity. Once we were settled for the night I just happened to ask one of the teachers whether or not they’d had  any problems. They went on to tell me that they usually only hear gunfire on Saturday, Sunday and Monday and as it was Tuesday we should be OK! Ahh well I could sleep soundly – NOT! The ‘Beware of Landmines’ signs everywhere didn’t seem to calm the nerves much either. Maybe the college were subtly trying to tell the four of us something.

Watch where you are walking!

We were always fed very well by our hosts as you can see from the pictures. Chicken number one was cooked in our honour and ended up as a plate of brown on a bed of rice. The next day chicken number two ended up the same way and on day three two chickens who I had the pleasure of witnessing their demise also ended up a shade of brown on a bed of rice. All very tasty shades of brown I must say. Day four saw us fending for ourselves and as there were no chickens to hand I ripped the top off a ferocious can of sardines mixed it with mayo and onions and stuck it inside a loaf of bread, well it made a change from rice and brown. Then it was back home to the pleasure of my own loo – heaven.

Chicken 1

Chicken 2 (Could've been chicken 1's brother!)

Chickens 3&4

Lisa also popped out again for a very welcome visit. Food seemed to be the main theme of her stay. She brought lots of yummy treats including twiglets, olives, M &M’s, malt loaf and best of all CHEESE! I have placed the stilton on a pedestal on the middle shelf of the fridge and smile every time I open the door. Tonight could be the night when it too will have to go the same way as chickens no 1,2,3 and 4. I will be sticking it on a cracker and not on a bed of rice. I hear you mutter – that woman is obsessed with food. You’re not wrong, it’s amazing what you miss when you haven’t got it.

A restaurant in the mangroves

June’s tip for the week – Stay off the beans when sleeping with strangers.



Ferries, Gellis and Donkeys

All aboard - squeeze on!

Thought I’d better sort out my rodent problem before my strangers (visitors) arrived. I did think they’d moved out due to lack of food. It was usually a race to scoop up the dropped crumbs and I thought I was winning. Wrong! As I was sat one evening contemplating the meaning of life, two very bold individuals galloped across the room and under my seat. Action was needed! I didn’t have a conventional trap, which I was quite pleased about as I didn’t fancy prizing a squished mouse out of the jaws of death. Luckily my neighbour had inherited some mouse catcher. It turned out to be super sticky fly paper with a dollop of peanut butter in the middle to entice the hapless creature towards its fate. As I was sitting eating my speciality Spanish omelette, the deed was done! The mouse was stuck to the peanut butter. Now what! Do I do the humane thing and bop it on the head – no too much of a wimp. Instead, still stuck to the super sticky fly paper, I dragged it outside, put ear plugs in so that I couldn’t hear it squeaking and left it to the scary creatures of the night. Never again, I’ve been on a guilt trip ever since. Mind you I think word has got around the mouse kingdom as they haven’t dared to venture back into the killing fields.

First strangers were Tracy and Ian coming to escape the January blues, get a vitamin D fix and join the happy people on the beach. Before relaxing they had to endure a gelli ride (local transport), squeezed in beside bags, babies and the odd apprentice bumster back to my compound where they were greeted by at least a million kids and Mr Touray who gratefully received the football kit they brought over which was donated by Meon Milton F.C. The million kids got even more excited when Tracy gave them all a pencil each, you’d have thought they’d all just been given the latest playstation. We escaped indoors and recuperated with a very well travelled cup of Tetleys.

Visitor number two, my lovely hubby who melted in my arms. No not through love and emotion more like sweat and exhaustion. Mission number one was to find somewhere showing the France v England rugby match. Success, a bar back in town. After a few heart stopping moments when the screen went and was replaced with divers from Acapulco we finally got to sit back and watch the spectacle. As the half time whistle went, relaxing, sipping my ice cold beer I noticed that our neighbouring table contained four very old chaps, whose faces seemed to have melted and on average were probably older than God. I couldn’t understand how they managed to have four very beautiful young ladies draped all over them. The only thing I could think was that the guys must’ve had very nice personalities.

A bumpy ride

 Next stop Baboon Island which is part of The River Gambia national Park and home to rehabilitated chimps. The way there was not easy. It involved gellis, very slow ferries and finally a horse and cart which funnily enough didn’t have suspension and as my nether regions are lacking padding at the moment turned out to be a very painful ride. On the way we passed a guy with a goat on his shoulders, probably the equivalent of a Gambian takeaway. Nik’s comment was ‘It must be getting chilly , even the locals have their goats on!’ Tee hee, wished I’d had my camera. The wildlife was wonderful chimps, baboons and assorted monkeys all topped off with hippos, a croc and all shapes and sizes of birds. Best of all was the food, warthog and chips for tea. The nearest thing I’ve had to bacon since Xmas.


Our week ended with a couple of relaxing days on the beach. Well I say relaxing, the Robinson/Carter household doesn’t do relaxing very well. We did have a twenty mile bike ride to get there and compulsory runs along the beach before we were allowed to sit, read drink and be merry. The week soon ended and it was back to the airport, followed by a raft of emotions and soggy hankies. Counting down the days until next time.

Our pad by the beach

Sunset



There's Something Afoot!

Reading one of the donated books at Kassa Kunda

My foot to be precise. I just happened to kick a stone about three weeks ago and it was obviously coated with something unpleasant as it has been infected ever since. Small volcanoes of puss kept erupting in different locations around my toes. In the end I had to succumb to visiting the doc. This experience didn’t instil me with complete confidence as I had to share my consultation with a mobile phone rep who was successfully trying to sell the doc a phone in the shape of a red Ferrari which turned the consulting room into a Formula 1 racetrack every time it rang. Both myself and the rep came away satisfied, she flogged her phone and I think I was given antibiotics and pain killers, let’s hope he was concentrating when he wrote the prescription.

Apart from the foot I have also had a fatal dose of ‘ants in my pants’. I did the usual getting ready for bed, teeth, toilet and washed behind my ears (just like my mother told me) and then discarded all items of clothing around the floor (not like my mother told me). As I woke in the morning and looked bleary eyed across the room my knickers seemed to be strolling off into the distance. I had thought I’d reached that time in life and was having a funny turn but after further inspection I discovered they were covered with minute ants who obviously thought that my knickers would be a suitable offering for their queen. You will be pleased to know that I rescued them from their fate and drowned most of the culprits in my bucket. Apologies to all ant lovers and Buddhists.

Event number 3 involved my bike being temporarily stolen. I visited one of the local schools to do my lesson observations and left my trusty steed outside the headteachers office. When I returned the pink peril had disappeared. Then World War III kicked off. A teacher saw the culprit, yelled thief in Mandinka which alerted all the other teachers who came screaming out of their classrooms leaving a trail of kids in their wakes. The more agile jumped over the wall, caught the wrong doer and dragged him back. I made a quick exit with a few finger wags and left him to his fate with the scary headteacher. Needless to say I have kept it locked ever since.

On the same morning I delivered a pile of books that I brought over from my old school to Mr Touray’s little village school. The first story books they’d ever had, so well done Craneswater you have started their library. They were all very gratefully received. As we left the village we bumped into a procession led by a Corcoran covered in leaves being followed by a gaggle of drummers and all of the villagers. When I asked what it was all about the driver mumbled the words circumcision ceremony. Apparently it’s that time of year. With that we made a swift exit even though 50 year old English birds were not seen to be suitable candidates.

June’s tip for the week – Don’t leave knickers unattended overnight.

Waiting for the fish to come in

My running partner doing a spot of babysitting. No pushchairs out here.

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