Daily Schedule

I thought you all would be interested to know my daily schedule.  By American standards you will probably think I am lazy but by West Africa standards I am living a normal life.  Some days are different like when I have meetings or work at the health clinic but most days look somewhat like this:

730-8 Wake up

8-9 Workout

9-10 Making and eat breakfast

10-11 Relaxing in my house. Cleaning up around the house and washing up

11-2pm Waiting for lunch.  11-5 is the hottest part of the day.  I usually lay under a tree, reading or working on PC work.

2-3pm Lunch

3-4pm Nap/rest inside my house

4-7pm Hangout would some friends, drink atay  and practice language

7- 730pm Shower

730 -830pm Hangout with the family

830 -9pm Dinner

9-930pm Layout look at the stars with the family in the dark

930-1030pm Go into hut write or read and have some alone time.

The Start of a Up Slope

The north bank region of volunteers is pretty much a boys club (8 guys and 2 girls).  When the other volunteers heard that they got 3 new boys, a celebration was in order. It was also a much needed time to interact with other volunteers.  I have come to learn, speaking English and being sarcastic is a crucial part of my sanity.  We ate vegetables and meat, a rare thing in village. We drank sprits and acted silly.  As I sat out on the river staring at our bond fire, I realized this was just what I needed.  A time to decompress and discover I am not the only one thinking these crazy thoughts and understand I am exactly where I should be in this experience. And that is how you turn a down slope into an up slope. [Lesson learned: step back, take a breath and spend some time with some close friends]

By the 3^rd week at site the things I was seeing, smelling and experiencing were not so foreign to me anymore.  If you remember from the first blog post I talked about really living in a place and talking to the old man when I go to the market?  Well I am living that and it is not just one old man it is everyone I pass on my way to anywhere.  In this small village, in the bush, in this country of Gambia I am more popular the Brad Pitt.  Everyone always knows my where abouts, what I ate for lunch, if I liked it or not, if I danced and even when I am talking a showering and sleeping.

Mud Hut to First Home

Taking the time to turn my house into a home paid off.  I felt safe and happy in this 10 x 12 mud hut.  After 2 months of living out of a bag, I could take my stuff out of a bag and put it on the floor Haha. Not for long because my father built me a shelf, bed and a table.  Now that everything had their own place around the room I could start decorating the walls.  I put up some of my photography from my past travels and pictures of family and friends (It’s a big wall and it has plenty of room for more pictures…hint, hint). After rainy season I plan to put some color on the walls and paint some morals. Going through the process of making a house a home, I now see a as valuable part of the learning curve.

Left in a Cloud of Dust

American Waw (I have to specify because ‘waw’ means ‘yes’ in Wolof and it can get confusing when I am talking to the other volunteers if I don’t), it has been almost 1 and ½ months since I had internet access and written a blog. I told you internet would be limited.  It is probably hard to imagine since in the states we constantly have internet access, if not on our computers then on our phones.  The closet town with electricity is 25 Km and internet about 60 Km. It has been surprisingly easy to adopt to and at times enjoyable to live without electricity.  Ask me that 2 months ago and you might have gotten a very different answer.  There is a noticeable learning curve in the whole process of moving to my permanent site.  The first 2 weeks started with a bit of a down slope; the fallowing weeks have exponentially continued to up slope.

Allow me to go in chronological order, from bad to good.  It all started May 14^th:

I was literally dropped off in front of my house with my luggage. The Land Cruiser was unloaded in 10 min and they were leaving in a cloud of dust. I stood there waving as the PC driver looked at me through the rearview mirror.  The first thoughts that came to my head were: ‘…and now I am alone’ and ‘now what do I do?’ I went into my room and just sat there and sweat, both from the heat and the unknown.  It was a bit of a punch in the stomach, coming from a big high of partying to feeling completely alone.  The other volunteers call it post Banjul depression (hanging out with all your friends then going back to slow village life takes a couple of days of readjustment).  It was that feeling plus being alone for the first time in a couple months.   Actually, I was the first time being alone like this ever.  I traveled to Asia, had apartments to myself, and meditated for hours but I never felt like this.   I was here to live with people I did not know, speak a language I could not really speak and do a job I did not know how to do.  You would probably feel the walls closing in on you too.     I said I would be honest and I am not ashamed to say – I cried.  Two days in, a wave of emotions hit me; I sat down on the floor and cried until the tears stopped.   While it is not commonly known fact about me, it is something I do on occasion and a good cry cleanses my soul. The blog header set not false pretenses, this was the first time but it will not be the last.

“Heaven knows we need never be ashamed of our tears, for they are the rain upon the blinding dust of earth, overlying our hard hearts. I was better after I had cried then before – more sorry, more aware of my own ingratitude, more gentle.” Charles Dickens, Great Expectations