Noo Boro

This is the Mandinkan term for wrestling. Around the new year my host family staged a wrestling match in the field just behind our compound. It was not a novel occurence, there are these village wrestling matches that draw wrestlers and residents from neighboring towns to come over, have alot of fun, and watch some wrestling. I was familiar with it because the volunteer before me was actually a wrestler. The family took him to watch a match and he told them that he wanted to try it. They didnt know he had experience as an actual wrestler, so when somebody from Sami Koto finally tried to wrestle a little with him he abruptly pinned them. They organized matches for him and he wrestled all around the Sami area. I had my two nearest volunteers come over on the Saturday night of wrestling to check the whole thing out. However, as soon as they got to town my dad said... Its gonna be tomorrow now. They stayed the night anyway, but had to leave before the actual wrestling. It finally did happen though on the next day, but the event wasnt really about the wrestling. At about 6 all the wrestlers and a group of drummers paraded around town with all the villagers following along and taking turns dancing. It was alot like posse that surrounds a boxer before a big fight, except it went all through the village and then eventually to the "ring" and then around the field for two or three times before the actual wrestling. The wrestling is pretty simple, whoever throws the other person down first wins. There is no visible schedule of matches, people just challenge each other. Then eventually there is a match, and the winner jumps up and everybody rushes him, and you know who is the champion for the evening.

These are a few big catfish that my dad caught. He fishes in a swamp, so the fish are just coming back into season as the weather heats up and the river starts to rise.

This is my uncle, he fishes out of the river using a canoe and a net, so hes weighing the fish he brought back and is gonna sell.

Malcom and I went to a track meet, and this is a kid taking off for the long jump

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These two girls are in the three legged race at the track meet.

This is Malcom, he is a health volunteer and lives about 20 kilometers passed me in a village called Song Kunda. He is the farthest volunteer out in the country, every Sunday we meet at the market in Fatoto and hang out.

This is my mom in the orange head wrap, and my aunt in the yellow. This was on my second day in village, and they are repeatedly dropping  peanuts and letting the wind carry off the vines and rocks. This process is called Tia Feo.

This is wrestling.

Greetings

The first thing we learned in our language classes was the local greetings. Each language has their own words, but they are all asking the same thing: "How are the home people? are you in peace? hope there is no trouble". These greetings are exchanged every time you see somebody, anybody, and everybody. They change with the time of the day and things are added like hope the morning is good, did you sleep in peace, are you tired? Also sometimes the home people is changed to your family, or the kids, or your hosts, or the people you just visited. It goes on for a long time. Although we were told greetings are important,  I don't think it sinks in until you actually start doing it all the time. At first I was hesitant to walk through the village because I knew it would take me 20 or 30 minutes just to make a 5 minute distance. At first this made me pretty hesitant to leave my house, I was always looking around and trying to judge when it looked like people were not outside to move about. Now though, it is becoming the opposite, maybe its knowing I have a lot of time to spend in my village that makes 30 minutes of greeting not seem so long any more. Im not afraid anymore to leave my house to run down and pick up a candle at the store, or go to someones house and ask them a question. Even though I know I will run into a lot of people and say a lot of greetings, its just the way it is.

Gamo

There was a big celebration in our village a few weeks ago called Gamo. Without utilizing the internet right now to see what Gamo actually is, Ill just tell you what I gathered from being in the village. Its a holiday, but maybe not a strict day. The village of Song Kunda had their Gamo party three days before us, and then one week later another village across the river called Sutukoba had their Gamo celebration. Maybe the day isstrict, but the parties are flexible. The day before the Gamo our village bought three cows, if your a cow and somebody pays for you you must know it means bad news. I went out to the slaughter and watched two cows go down. The method of execution was throat slitting. After seeing two cows down, I decided I didn't really need the third one so I took some time off. I did come back about an hour later, and all the men were sitting out on a tarp finishing the butchering. Another big task was building a huge shade and seating area in front of the mosque. With rapid efficiency the community put in seating and chade for a couple of hundred people. On the day of the actual Gamo, everyone went to the mosque around 9 am. There, the Koran was read, Im not sure if it was the whole thing, but definitely enough to take up the morning and afternoon.. After the reading for was brought out and everybody ate, and then chilled out until 10 pm. At ten we all went back to the mosque for some preaching. People came to the Gamo from all of our neighboring villages, so town was full, and each town brought their Imam, or spiritual leader. At ten each of the Imams took turns speaking, and this went on until the morning. Some people were sitting up listening through the whole thing, some were laying on the ground outside of the mosque, and some like myself just watched part of it and then went home to get in bed. 

Just a note

to say that we are all sworn in and heading to our villages in the morning. Friday afternoon we got to have a ceremony at the Ambassadors residence. We did some shopping after the ceremony for household goods that we would need in our huts, things like a mattress and a tank of gas and burner to cook with. Saturday and Sunday they left us alone for some free time, which everybody used to buy food, watch movies, eat out at restaurants, and have a little fun. I had a blast going to the beach around 5 o clock on both days to play a little volleyball. The garage here at the house is full of mattresses, water buckets, and stoves, but tomorrow morning everything including ourselves will be loaded in the land cruised and headed up country. Wont be around to talk for a while but have a good Christmas and New Years.
Love You

 On the right is my sister, her name is Isatoo Sanneh. She talked with me every night in Mandinka, and whenever someone else wanted to talk to me they always said it to her and told her to translate it for me. She is 15 and the oldest of my mom's daughters still in the compound at Kaif. In the middle is Hawa, she about 10 and though shes not looking at the camera dont feel bad for her, she abruptly jumped in every picture that I tried to take of Isa. On the far right is the youngest, Sarjo. Shes 5 and looks pretty intense and mean, and she really scared me at first, but then I figured out that she is just  not saying much because she is shy.

 This is the sun coming up behind a baobab tree. The building is a storage barn for the last compound on the outskirts of Kaif. When I wanted to walk this was my route.

 This is Pabi. He is 13, but is as nice as any grandpa you have ever met. His compound was where we went to school. He walked our group to a dance once, and the dance was as loud as any club you could find back home. Like you would call the police because you couldn't sleep if this club was within 5 miles of your house. Well Pabi got tired, and instead of going home when he was tired, he sat down inside of this dancehall and fell asleep with techno music blaring in his face until we woke him up and said that we were leaving, then he walked us back home.

This is a towel with Zabeth's name on it. Its a functional keepsake because I get to think of Zabeth, see her name, use something of hers, and plus get dry. Its drying in the backyard and the blue bucket on the ground is for bathing.

Similar Differences

One thing that has been pretty interesting so far is that the four of us who were in my training village are all Americans. We are each very different from each other, an older male from Seattle, a 22 year old female from Michigan and a 24 year old guy from upstate New York (in addition to myself). We didnt know each other until we all met in Philadelphia  and bonded on our plane ride over to Gambia. For all of our inherent differences, once we  got to Gambia we were all just considered Americans. It was a little hard at first, because we place so much difference on being from our different parts of the country. We also all have our own interests and attitudes and reasons for coming to Gambia. but to the people in Kaif and to most of the other Gambians  we have met we we are all just the same- Americans. We don't get a chance to tell them that the Southwest is dry and hot and your living in what used to be Mexico. The guy from upstate New York didn't really get to explain that his home is in the Adirondack's and not the huge city. People asked if we all knew each other before we came to Gambia, and although it was frustrating not to be able to explain how different we all are, they do have a point in that we are all American. Its the same for the people here in Gambia, though. There are many ethnic groups including Mandinka, Wolof, Fula, Serahuli, and many more that  Im not writing because I don't know how to spell them. Each group is as different as we all are, if not more so. In my Mandinka village we eat rice and peanut sauce, called durango a lot. Five minutes down the road though, the next village is eating something completely different like coos and fresh milk. When I went to Sami Koto the rice and peanut sauce was totally different from the way its made in Kaif, but it still had the same name. Its like ordering green chile and expecting them chopped, but getting some creamy enchilada sauce instead. I guess the point is Im from America, or the United States but all I really know about is life in the El Paso-Las Cruces area. I am looking forward to knowing not the entire country of Gambia, but one small village named Sami Koto.