Informal Studies

This past week, all the new environment volunteers came into town for "In-Service Training"; a chance to reflect on 3-months in village and practice some technical aspects of our job that were touched upon during our Pre-Service Training. We spend a few days learning about bees, harvesting honey, processing beeswax, and gorging on honey comb. Then we learned how to graft mango, citrus, and cola trees. We spent a whole day at a picturesque garden learning about composting, organic fertilizers and pesticides, and inter-cropping produce to maximize output. And we touched upon food security issues, seed collection, and woodlot production. I'm feeling extremely motivated to return to Jali, check out some hives, graft some mango trees, and build the perfect garden. Uh...maybe I should take it slow...But either way, I'm feeling confident that I can bring more skills and training to my village! I've been told not to set my expectations too high, but it's hard, and I'd like to think optimistically. At this point, I want to try everything I can! My job is to seek out motivated individuals, and at that point, I think the direction of my service will become clearer.

The day before I left for IST, I dedicated my whole day to collecting seeds for the Peace Corps seed exchange. But this day ended up being much more than a day walking around the bush trying to identify seeding trees. I ran into some boys I know from helping at the Upper Basic School (Grades 7-9) and asked them to help me find seeds. We found quite a few trees and spent a large part of the day sitting around, removing Flamboyant seeds from their hard shell casing. The boys, Kasam and Alamaso, were eager 9th-graders, preparing for their National Assessment Exams on 11 May, with dreams to play soccer, go to school on the coast, and move abroad.

That seems to be the dream of any young girl or boy: getting out of this country. Can you blame them? Job opportunities are few and far between. Who wants the same life as their parents, grandparents, and so on as subsistence farmers who can barely provide for themselves? I was always told growing up that I can do whatever I want to do if I work hard. But for Kasam and Alamaso, working hard will inevitably lead them back to Jali village or maybe selling cell-phone holders on the streets along the coast. We learned a lot about “brain drain” in my college development courses where “scholars” say that Africans continue to live in poverty because all the bright minds are leaving their home countries to pursue job opportunities abroad; that if they stayed in their home country to help build its infrastructure, poverty wouldn’t be as prevalent. I talked to Kasam and Alamaso about this idea; that Gambians should try to make their country better instead of wanting to leave. Kasam agreed, and said, so dignified, “I want my family to live a better life than me, so if I can find a job in Europe or America, and send money home, then maybe my kids will know how to make Gambia not poor.” He’s right, why not take advantage of an opportunity that most Gambians can only dream of, but when will this cycle end? Why can’t it be Kasam who changes this country around instead of his children? And what can be done to provide more Gambians with more opportunities?

My mind is constantly racing with ideas- day and night. “They could plant a huge fruit tree orchard and sell the fruits to tourists. Wait no! They can learn how to dry mangos and sell them during the off season! Yeah, wait, better yet, they grow thousands of cashew trees and then open up a cashew nut production factory…or…” This is why I’m so tired… but really, at this point, are these visions realistic? Probably not. Now, families are unable to grow enough to feed their families. Now this seems like a realistic goal and potential for opportunity. If we can improve crop yield, families may have the opportunity to sell their excess and make a profit. If families can make a profit, perhaps they can afford to send their kids to higher education. If their kids spend less time helping with farm chores and more time studying, their advancement potential is higher. If all farmers are producing better and more crops, perhaps they could export them- providing additional income and business opportunities for all.

Call me idealistic, yes, I know. But let’s just start with trying to feed one’s family. Development is a long process, even the term “development” is pretty loaded and such a western idea. Although I am living in a village and see problems and issues facing people, I am only here for 2 years. “Development workers” have lived here before me and they will live here after I leave.

All I can do is plant some positive seeds for improvement. Like all seeds, some won’t grow, others may grow for a few years and then fade away, and a couple may even grow to be big, sprawling mahogany trees. So why not just plant some and see what happens.

This is my home

17 April
I've been staying in Jali village for about 3 months now. The Drammeh compound is where I eat all my meals. And the vast bush of the Kiang Region is where I've spent most my days working. Though, until recently, I still felt like a visitor. It was a few days before Easter, I was missing home, wishing I could spend the holiday back in Pennsylvania; laughing with my family and oodling over the dog. So I decided to trek up to Basse in Eastern Gambia to go to church and cook with some Peace Corps friends posted out east. It was great to cook American food, play cards, laugh about all there is to laugh about here, and spend such a special holiday with people I really care about. I returned back to site, in high spirits, and was blessed with an unexplainable feeling that this place, Kiang Jali village, in the Drammeh compound; is exactly where I belong. This is my home.

I came back from my 4-day Easter excursion with high spirits and ready to work! While I was gone, the men (finally) finished the fence for the women’s garden, 2 wells had been dug the desired 3-meters into the water table and 2 more were being worked on, and I was greeted with big smiles and genuine greetings from the villagers. Despite being exhausted from my journey (took an extra day because “sometimes transport is a problem in Kiang”), all I wanted to do was walk around, greet people, laugh, and talk about what a great village Jali is. My little host brothers saw me walking along the dirt path to the compound and their faces lit up with instant smiles as they ran around yelling in Mandinka, “Habie came! Habie came!” (That’s my Gambian name…) At that moment, I put down my backpack and nearly broke down in tears. My host mother came out, just as excited, and said, “you came home!” “Yes”, I replied, “I came home.