5) Nobody Puts Baby in a.....Slingshot?
On the first Monday of every month, a clinic day is held in my village of Sare Ngai. Because we have no CHN, or Community Health Nurse,one comes in from nearby Fulabantang in order to conduct an assessment of the children in village. The babies are weighed, measured and given their necessary inoculations which include everything from Yellow Fever to Polio to Measles.
As the school year has slowly started coming to a close, I've been looking to get involved in other community events, so I sought out the nurse from Tim's village and offered to help out. She was welcome to the idea and on the first day of June, I woke early and made my way to the village clinic. Unsure of what exactly I was supposed to do, I simply mingled with the women and made googly eyes with the little ones while they shuffled around, each finding a place on a bench which had been set out for them under a giant mango tree. Together, we all waited for the staff to arrive. The nurse and a health worker from my village soon came, and they spoke to the group about nutrition, the importance of exclusive breast feeding and the necessity of cooking an array of meals to promote a varied diet. After this, it was time for business. My role for the day was the simple task of marking whether the baby in question was male or female. It was, not surprisingly, a tedious and undemanding task, but it allowed me to observe the comings and goings of the day.
It was incredible to see the ability of the small medical staff in action; They remained cool, calm and collected while managing over 200 women, their crying babies, masses of paperwork in varying degrees of decomposition, all while speaking and translating three different languages. To an outsider it may have looked chaos, but somehow, they knew precisely who was where and what they needed.
The most enjoyable bit for me, aside from the general excitement of having so many new people to meet, was the comic relief of seeing the faces of the children as they were hung from the tree to measure their weight. The mothers, waiting their turn to see the nurse, are passed these fabric baby slings with the order to strip their baby down, wiggle them into the sling, and then clip said sling onto the branch of a tree where a scale waits to determine whether or not the child falls within a healthy weight range. Sitting directly under the branch, dutifully ticking my M or F boxes, I had a front row seat for this, and it was hilarious. Some infants seemed to like the ordeal; they giggled, smiled, bounced and enjoyed the positive attention from the crowd. Others were fed up with the whole scene and let their anger ring out as shrill cries and bouts of violent kicking. My favorites, though, were the babies that were terrified beyond belief; They just dangled stiffly--wide-eyed and silent beneath the tree, unable to even cry for fear of what might happen. I watched them all, laughing and poking fun at their reactions alongside their mothers, feeling very pleased to have found a way to bond with people outside of both my school and my comfort zone.  |
| My sweet baby sister, Deanna. I just can't get enough... |
4) Let's Get Together
Every year, Peace Corps The Gambia holds a conference called All-Vol where volunteers from every sector join up to share ideas, skills, and information on the various projects they've been working on in village. This year was the first time Massembeh was ready and able to house all of us--about 100 in number including staff and administration. As I mentioned, while the month of June unfolded, so did the heat, and in response, many of us decided to hang our mosquito nets up outside, drag mattresses around, and set up shop where there was at least a higher chance of catching a breeze. The result was a scene straight out of summer camp. Tents and nets were splayed out in every direction, and the ground was littered with balls of every variety. For three days after our late afternoon release from meetings, we would team up and play like school children. (Que Mean Girls camera shots spanning the crowd.) There were the volleyball kids, the softball kids, the card-gamers, board-gamers, the readers, runners, and the nappers. Although we are all adults, after being at site for a while, it is so much fun to be silly and enjoy the company of tons of people--not to mention wallow in the exquisite feeling that comes with having a choice of entertainment aside from: find shade.read.nap. Additionally, it was inspiring to learn about he work other volunteers are doing at their posts. It's not often I hear about methods of tree-grafting or irrigation techniques, and it's rare that the agriculture volunteers learn new games for teaching phonics to their host-siblings, but the All-Vol conference allows for those opportunities; it proves a platform for us to touch base and re-inspire each other to get our feet wet in some new and unfamiliar waters. 
3) Balance
I have mentioned a few times before about going away for a Peace Corps yoga retreat. These three-day weekends are held about every three months and serve as a way to help volunteers let go of stress they build up at site, and they provide advice on how to mange this stress through exercise, meditation and other creative outlets. This month, because the people previously in charge of planning the event finished their service and went back to the U. S., they had to pass the torch to a few newer volunteers, myself included. So, after a couple of months of planning, it was finally time. Taking advantage of everyone being together at All-Vol, those attending the retreat left for the lodge in one vehicle and made our way to a river-side oasis where we would stay through Monday morning.
Upon arrival, we threw our bags inside, stripped down, and jumped in the river to float along with the tide (and whatever other mysterious aqua-life lurked below). Between Saturday and Sunday, we managed to squeeze in lots of yoga, a little Pilates, a couple of cardio sessions, a bird-watching walk, a bit of arts and crafts, and daily meditations. I tried my hand at cooking the lunches with ingredients I brought in from the city, which I realized was no easy task for 15 people and absolutely not the same as dinner-for- two, and I learned how to make dream catchers out of local materials, which I have since taught to all my neighborhood kids. After dinner, we played games and chatted before turning in early for another full day of activities.
These weekends are such positive things for many reasons, but one important one lies in the fact that it gives people a chance to get to know other volunteers in a more intimate way and in an open and relaxed environment. Often times, when we all get together, it's for a holiday or a big celebration. While these moments are nice, they bring a degree of chaos that prevents real communication. But at this lodge, wading in the river, just a few voices and ruffling of leaves provided the backdrop for people to slow down and really remember themselves--a rare and crucial thing in a country where we are known my most as Fatoumata, Mariama or Alieu--here we get three days where we can just be us. 2) Pound-Packing Porridges
Two things caused me to call that nurse up from Tim's village after attending the women's clinic at the beginning of the month. The first was that so many babies we saw were terribly underweight, and I wanted to do something about it, and secondly, I kind of wanted to hangout out with her again, as most of my village friends are maxing out around 13 years old. She seemed excited at the idea too, so we hatched a plan to do a cooking demonstration in Sare Ngai. Word got out, the day arrived, and I showed up a bit early to get things ready. I sat. and sat. and sat. An hour later and I started to lose hope, but soon, few by few the mothers trickled in, their babies tied to their backs in snug little bundles.
I had purchased many of the ingredients needed, but the others were provided by the women in attendance. We had local peanut butter, oil, sugar, powdered milk, dried fish, and lots of cous flour, which is a grain grown in West Africa that vaguely resembles bulgar. The goal was to prepare two different porridges that women could make for their underweight children. The clinics already provide a powdered porridge mixture to give to these young ones, however, as it is extremely delicious and rich (it tastes like the batter for cornbread!!) it's highly sought after and runs out quickly. The sad reality is that because food--especially varied food--can be so scarce, this porridge is fought over and scarfed up by whole families, with very little actually making its way to the mouths of the hungry child in need. Unfortunately, here in Gambia, it is believed that the older a person is, the more nutrition they need. The connection between feeding a child well to promote healthy growth is not commonly made, and because of this, any special foods or those rich in proteins are usually given to the adults before the younger generation. I've been told some women even purposefully maintain the unhealthy weights of their children in order to stay eligible for this porridge. Of course this is not done out of malice, but from lack of education mixed with desperation. It's a longstanding problem that health workers are constantly striving to overcome. So, with this issue in mind, we set out to use inexpensive, readily-available ingredients and make calorie-dense porridges appealing to small children. 
It was great to interact with the women while they were feeling free. Gambian women, always in the midst of one chore or another, don't often have time away from their compounds, so these couple of hours served as a nice respite. Also fun to see was how dressed up everyone got for the occasion! It didn't occur to me before hand, but as opportunities scarcely arrive for afternoon outings, they jumped at the chance, donning fancy complettes, make-up, perfume, and every conceivable shade of bead and bangle. So, while I had envisioned a cozy, home-cooking scenario, what they dressed for was...a party. And so that it became.Using both a health-care manual and creative improvisation (AKA "more sugar, more sugar") we managed to pull off two pots of child-friendly fare. While the dried fish version wasn't a crowd-favorite, the peanut butter porridge was a hit (duh) and there wasn't a drop left at the end of the day. I hope to continue with these gatherings every so often, if not to directly improve the diets of the children, then at least to offer some options for supplementing their own diets. However, next time, I'll make sure to up the ante on my outfit....
1) I'll Drink To That!
June 27th, 2014 was a big day. Gambia opened its doors to our education group for the first time, and the lives of every one of us has changed a great deal since. Two weeks ago, in order to properly bask in our excitement, decided to bask in the sun--wait for it.........at a pool! A pool! That's right folks, we rented out a few rooms at a lodge about two and half hours drive from my site, loaded up our bags with a few celebratory libations, and enjoyed the pure bliss of chlorinated, cement-encased water. It. was. spectacular.
