Tuesday, December 30, 2014

Two Years in Photos


I completed my Peace Corps service several months ago. But after finally sorting through 2 years of photos, I would like to dedicate a final blog post to the people who invited me into their lives and shared this unforgettable journey with me. To my Peace Corps community, I could not have chosen a more incredible, talented, and supportive family. Thank you for giving me the strength to get through the difficult moments and reminding me to cherish the little things. And to my Gambian family and friends, I am honored to have lived and worked alongside you. Thank you for teaching me the value of patience, the strength of community, and the true meaning of wealth. I am forever indebted to your kindness. Although I cannot begin to put my memories into words, I hope these photos offer a glimpse into the simple beauty of the people and country I hold close to my heart. 

Peace and love, Nichole (Awa/Aja/Aminata) 

My Peace Corps family.
Alhaji, my saving grace in Senegal.
Steve and Matt, my lovely language partners.

Tuesday, October 16, 2012

Jassong: A Glimpse into My Life in Village


The last five months of service have been a challenging, eye-opening adventure to gain acceptance in my community and set the stage for the rest of my service in the Gambia. I’ve laughed, cried, and struggled with everything from food and language to the critters living in my house, but I have persevered and fallen in love with my life in village. Now, I’m nearly always the last person at the communal food bowl, polishing off the remaining slimy green leaf sauce (kucha) and boney fish that I refused to touch during my first months in the Gambia. And I recently turned a typical 5 hour gele (30+ passenger public transport van) ride into a 12 hour travel day, while waiting for the delicious rice porridge my host moms prepare every morning. My initial struggles with the Mandinka language have been replace by compliments from Gambians who tell me Ya Mandinka kaŋo moy (You hear Mandinka), and I’ve settled into a peaceful cohabitation with the rats, lizards, and geckos living in my ceiling (as long as I don’t see any tails hanging down between the gaps in the rice bag ceiling) and the giant spiders living everywhere else. 

I am living and working in a small Mandinka village called Jassong in the Lower River Region of the Gambia. It is home to roughly 600 people belonging to the Mandinka ethnic tribe, the largest ethnic group in the Gambia. I have been welcomed into the community and given an identity as Amie Kanyi, a sister and daughter, in an amazing family. My host family consists of my father (74 years old, nearly blind, and still working in the fields), his two wives (typical in the Muslim faith) and 7 of their children. My host mothers look after me as they would their own child, becoming very protective at times- my younger host mother actually got a man arrested for harassing me at the market a couple weeks ago. My host siblings are sweet, curious, and a little wild. Sometimes I can’t believe that the same 5 year old child, who holds my hand so I won’t slip when climbing a steep hill, would later catch, kill, and roast a little yellow bird. But things like this happen, and I can only smile, laugh, and hesitantly ask Munaketa? (Why?) But the answer seems so obvious to them Amie, niŋ mu suubo (Amie, this is meat), and what kind of health volunteer would I be to discourage their efforts to supplement their protein-deficient diet? 

These children, who I desperately tried to keep out of my house during my first weeks in village, have found their way into my heart. Every afternoon, they lure me outside by loudly singing the alphabet song, often in unusual order (A, B, C, D, F, P, O, M, H, I…) at the door of my hut. I have been attempting to teach 8 children from my compound, who don’t have an opportunity to attend school, to read, and they know I can’t refuse their desire to learn. The majority of adults in Jassong are illiterate and most children don’t attend the government-run English school in the neighboring village. While the excuses are many (lack of school fees, distance to the school), the underlying reason seems to be that education is simply undervalued and viewed as a luxury rather than a necessity. Gambian girls are much less likely to be sent to school than male children, since girls actively participate in hauling water, cooking, cleaning, and laundry from a very young age. It is also assumed that girls don’t need an education to perform the traditional role of Gambian women as housewives. Teaching the children in my compound the ABCs isn’t going to change the education system in the Gambia, but maybe it will change my host parent’s attitude toward girls’ education by showing them that girls are just as capable of learning as boys.

Although I technically belong to a single family in Jassong, the entire village has become my home. I have gained trust and respect as a health worker by interpreting child clinic cards for mothers and providing alternative first aid strategies to those typically used (No, tomato paste and hot wax are not appropriate treatments for festering wounds). Additionally, I have gained acceptance as a community member by celebrating local holidays (I attempted to fast during Ramadan), working in the rice fields and gardens, and joking with the old men about not having a husband (well, actually I do have a husband in village, but he’s a baby). I dance at their marriage ceremonies (still lacking any form of rhythm or style), celebrate their babies’ births, and grieve the untimely deaths of family members and friends. The Peace Corps has become much more than just a job; it is my life, and the community is my family.

Wednesday, September 12, 2012

Baby Janneh


I’ve been at my permanent site for over 3 months, but I would like to take this post to reflect back on my time in training village in the Gambia. I lived in Mariama Kunda, a small Mandinka community, with an absolutely lovely host family. My host mother, Fatou, and her children, Fatou, Mustapha, and Baby Janneh welcomed me into their family and treated me like a daughter and sister. Even though I only lived with them for a few weeks, I warmly remember our time together, from dancing to my younger sister drumming on a water bidong with a stick, to chasing Mustapha and his homemade leaf propeller around and around the mango tree, to my host mother patiently teaching me Mandinka proverbs. 

But my stay was also marked by the difficulty and frustration of watching Baby Janneh grow sicker and sicker every day, as her health rapidly declined. Even though Janneh was over 5 months old, she was severely malnourished, weighing less than 10 pounds. During much of my time in Mariama Kunda, I naively tried to convince my host mother to take Janneh to the local health center, although she had been hospitalized twice during the last month. I thought that she would receive a diagnosis and the medication she needed to get better, and was frustrated that my host mother seemed so resigned towards Janneh’s condition. I soon discovered that my host mother’s attitude toward the public clinic was not unfounded, when she returned with a non-descript diagnosis of chronic malaria and general medications including a fever reducer and vitamins. When I moved from Mariama Kunda to my permanent site, Baby Janneh was still struggling to survive, but after a few weeks, she passed away. 

Healthcare is very different in the Gambia, where few modern medical technologies are available, health workers are poorly trained and overworked, and death is accepted as a norm. The challenge of working in the health sector of the Gambia is daunting, but I hope my work in health education and disease prevention will make a small difference in the lives of the people in my village. It is difficult to accept the death of people who have lived full, productive, happy lives, but it is even harder to watch someone die, who never had a chance to live. Although Janneh did not have a long life, she touched the lives of those around her and continues to motivate me as I work to address the health problems in my village.

Wednesday, May 2, 2012

Recap of PST in Senegal


I’m nearing the end of my Peace Corps Pre-Service Training (PST), and what a journey it has been. I spent my first month of training in Senegal, in a joint training program with the Senegal PC Trainees designed to combine the resources of the two countries Peace Corps Programs. My time in Senegal was filled with many challenges, benefits, laughter, and tears. I’ve highlighted some of my experiences below that provide a glimpse of my month in Senegal.
  • Attempting to communicate in French and Wolof, while learning to speak the minority language, Mandinka. Thanks to my two semesters of college French, I was able to greet people and make purchases at the bitiks (small corner shops that sell biscuits, bread, basic household items, and if you’re really lucky, cold drinks). However, apart from basic greetings and business transactions, most people in the Senegal training towns (Thies and Mbour) spoke the local language, Wolof. This was particularly difficult, since very few people spoke Mandinka, the local language I’m learning for service in the Gambia.
  • Living with a huge Senegalese host family (there were over 20 people in the house). They were my first introduction to the warm hospitality and humor of West African culture. And even though they made fun of my attempts to dance and remember their names (I tried unsuccessfully to explain that I might be able to recall their names more easily if they would stop changing their hair (i.e. braids, no braids, different wigs) throughout the day), they were extremely patient with me. 
  • Experiencing the effects of the encroaching Sahara Desert. Living on the edge of the Sahara meant sand, sand, and more sand (and not much vegetation). While sand is lovely at the beach, it’s a huge pain when you don’t have the beauty of the ocean to counter the fact that it gets into everything, EVERYTHING. While I was in Mbour, there was a huge sand storm (think the newest Mission Impossible movie), and absolutely everything I own is now permanently embedded with sand. On the bright side, I was provided with training on how to successfully grow a garden in sand (it’s actually possible) and established a couple small garden plots with lettuce, onions, moringa (a local miracle food), and peppers before I left Senegal. 
  •  Changing my concept of clean. I’ve completely given up on having clean feet and clothes. I’m currently organizing my clothes into very dirty, kinda dirty, and cleanish. I still haven’t mastered the art of laundering by hand. Usually after 4-5 buckets of scrubbing and rinsing, I decide everything is about as clean as it’s going to get, even though the water is still brown/gray. My host sisters had an incredible ability to make even the dirtiest clothes spotlessly clean, but I lacked the strength and patience to invest such effort. 
  •  Making and eating more millet porridge than one person should even do in their life. Every day my host family made huge pots of millet porridge to sell for income. Although I didn’t initially like the gritty balls combined with powdered milk (or sometimes baby formula) and a cup of sugar, the taste gradually grew on me once I was able to explain that I don’t like a lot of sugar and baby formula is not a appropriate substitute for powdered milk. 
  •  Meeting and bonding with the Senegal PC Trainees. Love you guys and miss you. Thanks for welcoming us into your Senegal family during our brief time together. Can’t wait to see you all again at WAST, or possibly sooner. 
While Senegal was an integral, challenging part of my training, it is nice to finally be home in the Gambia. I just finished the Gambia part of my training village experience in Mariama Kunda (more on this later), and I’m visiting my permanent site (Jassong, a Mandinka village in the Lower River Region) for the first time this morning. I am very eager to see my home for the next two years and meet the community. Kayira doloŋ (Peace only). 

Sorry for the lack of posts the last two months. I'll hopefully be able to post more regularly after I begin service. 

Tuesday, March 6, 2012

And We're Off...Finally!

I'm finally leaving for my Peace Corps service after 17 months of applications, interviews, many medical and dental tests, overwhelming amounts of paperwork, and lots and lots of waiting. I can hardly believe this day has arrived after so many delays. This process has definitely tested my patience and flexibility, which is undoubtedly good preparation for what I will be experiencing during my service.

I will be traveling first to Senegal to train with the Gambia and Senegal Peace Corps volunteers. I had my first introduction to the other volunteers at Staging in D.C. yesterday. We share many of the same anxieties and aspirations about our service and are able to relate to each other so easily. I'm excited to be spending the next two years with such a great group of people.

I'm eager to begin my training, delighted to be surrounded by such friendly fellow volunteers, nervous to learn a new language, and hopeful about being accepted into my Senegalese family. But most of all I can't wait to see how Peace Corps will influence and change my life.

To my family and friends, I will miss you. Please keep me in your thoughts and prayers.

Peace and Love Always, Nichole