After a while I got fed up with listening to the rustling in the thatched roof above me, folded the towel in 3 lengthwise and wrapped it around my head to block out the sound. Amazingly the next thing I knew was it was 7am and time to get up. I did a quick bed bug bite check and found nothing, big sigh of relief.
The shower worked in a fashion and the cold water was soooo good. I felt a ridiculous sense of achievement that I had survived the night. I stepped outside my wedge and discovered a small complex of white thatched round houses. Hence the wedge shaped room. On my, er, terrace outside my door was a very old broken sewing machine table, minus machine, just the hole where it would have been,the type with the wrought iron table legs and a foot peddle . Some broken scraps of metal, a broom, maybe I had slept in the workman's shed. I cannot work out the sewing machine bit maybe it had been there ever since the 1830's left behind by the British. Monkeys were scampering around , the birds song was full on. The birds in The Gambia are breathtaking in variety,colours and sizes, fortunately the Gambian tourist board have realised this asset and are preserving them and their territory, it will be great if it lasts, however this land, its coastline and climate is like Spain in the early 80's if the developers move in who knows if their current eco principles will hold.
We all meet up for breakfast in a much better humour than the previous evening. The food is not appealing, some very grey porridge and some bland fried dough balls dipped in Gambian honey , at least they were filling. The view across the river was peaceful. A group of puppies were rough tumbling over each other on the river bank.
"will someone be telling us what is going to happen?" asks one of the group to one of our guides. "no" he replies gives a broad grin and walks away. Great."Gambian style"
We all gather at our bus and get on board ready for the day. There is a drive to a small ferry port and a short river crossing, we are seasoned travellers now, events are taking on an air of normality.
George Town.
This is where the English built the first college in Gambia back in 1830's. It is now a 6th form college for young Gambians. However before that we visit the Women's medical clinic.
It is a small single storey building , I cannot apologise for using this adjective again it is just the way it is "dusty". We go up the entrance steps into a hallway with posters warning about aids and a cartoon showing a woman and a man in a bar having a drink together advertising the use of condoms. To the left is a ward. Today there are no patients. There are four or five beds and 3 mosquito nets, the decor is fairly Dickensian. We are being shown around by two nurses wearing clean, pressed uniforms. Next door to the ward is the minor ops room. In the clinic a pregnant lady is having her check up. The nurse takes us into the pharmacy. The shelves are practically bare. I asked the nurse what she needed most, she needs drugs, medicine , I said I didn't think we could send that but maybe we can get other things. She wants : sheets, baby clothes, terri nappies , pretty much things we take for granted.
The chief medical doctor ( the only one) comes to meet us in his NHS greens. They actually do have NHS written on them.
The visit was one of those overwhelming moments when you are left so enormously humbled, just the achievement of the staff to have arrived at practicing the careers they have chosen in a country where the education system is seriously challenged and beset by all sorts of problems.The job they do with the crumbs that they have. The patients who turn up for treatment with exactly the same expectations of care as we do......hmmm.
We move on to the College. It consists of several oblong blocks of class rooms. Goats and chickens are running around free range. Each block for a different subject, the pupils are 16 upwards. Girls and boys mixed, Muslims and Christians side by side. The tour takes in the IT room. They are working on computers from the 1980's. They all smile at us . The canteen kitchens were large and what you would expect,pretty basic, the chef was mixing the dough for their daily bread in what looked like a really new enamel bath, the wood fired bread oven was beautiful. Their dinning hall was painted a soft pale green and set out with refractory tables, the floor had a trail of goats droppings across it.
As the visit was drawing to a close us girls decide before we set off on our return journey we should make use of the facilities. We were shown to the staff loos.
Don't go there.
Don't even think about it.
How is it remotely possible in a Six form college that the facilities are so far beyond basic. Or should that be "behind" basic?" behind " isn't a good choice of word either given the situation. You know what I mean.
Back to the bus and on to a Village visit.
We drive along for a couple of hours, we are all much more tolerant now, everything seems easier we heading back to our nice world of proper beds and good clean western style bathrooms.
It is baking hot again and we are surprised when the driver pulls up quite sharply in the centre of the road. He has spotted a bright chartreuse green chameleon not more than 7 inches long crossing the road in front of the bus. We can all see it doing "the Hot foot" dance on boiling Tarmac. A 1-2-3 foot up hey,A 1-2-3 foot up hey.The driver gets out and lifts him up by the tail and drops him to safety on the side of the road.
It is getting towards what normal citizens call lunch time. We start to winge.
A cold drink stop. We drive on . We winge. Real air- con comes on. We calm down.
Windowman urgently tells the driver to stop. He opens his window wide leans out and throws up! Nice. It would have been better if the driver had managed to slow down a fraction sooner. Ugh! There is a short intermission and we move on.
The scenery is a repeat of yesterday. It's a treat to look out of a window and spy on a world so far removed from your own , seeing first hand an Africa I had always visualised , not the Zimbabwe of my birth which I very much doubt I will ever see, but similar I guess. Imagine what their daily lives are like , they have so much space around them and so few material possessions. We know by what we have learnt through conversation with Gambians that they are expected to share with their community what they earn and what they have. They have very, very, little , this is a really poor country. In the countryside 70% are employed in the cashew and peanut nut industry . Others earn their living off charcoal and firewood.They pack it into woven sacks and then it is stacked on the red dust pathway along the edge of the Tarmac.
Finally about 3 in the afternoon we draw up at a group of mud round houses, little children come running forward to greet us, mucky cold hands outstretched. "high five!" .we have noticed what to us seems a strange phenomena , the Gambians have cold hands.
The tour of their wonderfully cool mud hut divided into small rooms I find embarrassing, our tour guides have paid them to do this which is a huge relief , we do not have to hand them over money which we often are expected to do. This has been paid for in advance.The positive side as far as they are concerned is it supplies the family with an income they are possibly relatives of one of the tour company.
Just as we are getting back on the bus one of the passengers sees a pedal bike tagged with a metal "Centre Parks" sticker! How on earth did that get there??? Onwards to lunch. At about 4 we stop in backwaters at a lodge in the mangroves and have a really lovely fish lunch. Normality is returning. ( wonderful facilities, seats, paper, soap. Happiness is a great loo.)
We return home to Phoenix Lodge at about 6.30. There must be something perverse in our psychi, in order to have a really good time we need to go through hell!
" hey, welcome back, how was it? "
FANTASTIC!!!
It was great to be back. The fishing trip had also been a great success, in a small open toped wooden long boat the three of them had had a great time. Franco, Jo and Ash had caught some wonderful, butter fish and lady fish.Jo had been seasick a few times but they had had a good day.
It's a BBQ then. So after a long long shower and without drawing breath we swing into preparation of a smashing meal. Cold white wine, clean white china great company, lovely home coming.
Wonderful bed.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
The shower worked in a fashion and the cold water was soooo good. I felt a ridiculous sense of achievement that I had survived the night. I stepped outside my wedge and discovered a small complex of white thatched round houses. Hence the wedge shaped room. On my, er, terrace outside my door was a very old broken sewing machine table, minus machine, just the hole where it would have been,the type with the wrought iron table legs and a foot peddle . Some broken scraps of metal, a broom, maybe I had slept in the workman's shed. I cannot work out the sewing machine bit maybe it had been there ever since the 1830's left behind by the British. Monkeys were scampering around , the birds song was full on. The birds in The Gambia are breathtaking in variety,colours and sizes, fortunately the Gambian tourist board have realised this asset and are preserving them and their territory, it will be great if it lasts, however this land, its coastline and climate is like Spain in the early 80's if the developers move in who knows if their current eco principles will hold.
We all meet up for breakfast in a much better humour than the previous evening. The food is not appealing, some very grey porridge and some bland fried dough balls dipped in Gambian honey , at least they were filling. The view across the river was peaceful. A group of puppies were rough tumbling over each other on the river bank.
"will someone be telling us what is going to happen?" asks one of the group to one of our guides. "no" he replies gives a broad grin and walks away. Great."Gambian style"
We all gather at our bus and get on board ready for the day. There is a drive to a small ferry port and a short river crossing, we are seasoned travellers now, events are taking on an air of normality.
George Town.
This is where the English built the first college in Gambia back in 1830's. It is now a 6th form college for young Gambians. However before that we visit the Women's medical clinic.
It is a small single storey building , I cannot apologise for using this adjective again it is just the way it is "dusty". We go up the entrance steps into a hallway with posters warning about aids and a cartoon showing a woman and a man in a bar having a drink together advertising the use of condoms. To the left is a ward. Today there are no patients. There are four or five beds and 3 mosquito nets, the decor is fairly Dickensian. We are being shown around by two nurses wearing clean, pressed uniforms. Next door to the ward is the minor ops room. In the clinic a pregnant lady is having her check up. The nurse takes us into the pharmacy. The shelves are practically bare. I asked the nurse what she needed most, she needs drugs, medicine , I said I didn't think we could send that but maybe we can get other things. She wants : sheets, baby clothes, terri nappies , pretty much things we take for granted.
The chief medical doctor ( the only one) comes to meet us in his NHS greens. They actually do have NHS written on them.
The visit was one of those overwhelming moments when you are left so enormously humbled, just the achievement of the staff to have arrived at practicing the careers they have chosen in a country where the education system is seriously challenged and beset by all sorts of problems.The job they do with the crumbs that they have. The patients who turn up for treatment with exactly the same expectations of care as we do......hmmm.
We move on to the College. It consists of several oblong blocks of class rooms. Goats and chickens are running around free range. Each block for a different subject, the pupils are 16 upwards. Girls and boys mixed, Muslims and Christians side by side. The tour takes in the IT room. They are working on computers from the 1980's. They all smile at us . The canteen kitchens were large and what you would expect,pretty basic, the chef was mixing the dough for their daily bread in what looked like a really new enamel bath, the wood fired bread oven was beautiful. Their dinning hall was painted a soft pale green and set out with refractory tables, the floor had a trail of goats droppings across it.
As the visit was drawing to a close us girls decide before we set off on our return journey we should make use of the facilities. We were shown to the staff loos.
Don't go there.
Don't even think about it.
How is it remotely possible in a Six form college that the facilities are so far beyond basic. Or should that be "behind" basic?" behind " isn't a good choice of word either given the situation. You know what I mean.
Back to the bus and on to a Village visit.
We drive along for a couple of hours, we are all much more tolerant now, everything seems easier we heading back to our nice world of proper beds and good clean western style bathrooms.
It is baking hot again and we are surprised when the driver pulls up quite sharply in the centre of the road. He has spotted a bright chartreuse green chameleon not more than 7 inches long crossing the road in front of the bus. We can all see it doing "the Hot foot" dance on boiling Tarmac. A 1-2-3 foot up hey,A 1-2-3 foot up hey.The driver gets out and lifts him up by the tail and drops him to safety on the side of the road.
It is getting towards what normal citizens call lunch time. We start to winge.
A cold drink stop. We drive on . We winge. Real air- con comes on. We calm down.
Windowman urgently tells the driver to stop. He opens his window wide leans out and throws up! Nice. It would have been better if the driver had managed to slow down a fraction sooner. Ugh! There is a short intermission and we move on.
The scenery is a repeat of yesterday. It's a treat to look out of a window and spy on a world so far removed from your own , seeing first hand an Africa I had always visualised , not the Zimbabwe of my birth which I very much doubt I will ever see, but similar I guess. Imagine what their daily lives are like , they have so much space around them and so few material possessions. We know by what we have learnt through conversation with Gambians that they are expected to share with their community what they earn and what they have. They have very, very, little , this is a really poor country. In the countryside 70% are employed in the cashew and peanut nut industry . Others earn their living off charcoal and firewood.They pack it into woven sacks and then it is stacked on the red dust pathway along the edge of the Tarmac.
Finally about 3 in the afternoon we draw up at a group of mud round houses, little children come running forward to greet us, mucky cold hands outstretched. "high five!" .we have noticed what to us seems a strange phenomena , the Gambians have cold hands.
The tour of their wonderfully cool mud hut divided into small rooms I find embarrassing, our tour guides have paid them to do this which is a huge relief , we do not have to hand them over money which we often are expected to do. This has been paid for in advance.The positive side as far as they are concerned is it supplies the family with an income they are possibly relatives of one of the tour company.
Just as we are getting back on the bus one of the passengers sees a pedal bike tagged with a metal "Centre Parks" sticker! How on earth did that get there??? Onwards to lunch. At about 4 we stop in backwaters at a lodge in the mangroves and have a really lovely fish lunch. Normality is returning. ( wonderful facilities, seats, paper, soap. Happiness is a great loo.)
We return home to Phoenix Lodge at about 6.30. There must be something perverse in our psychi, in order to have a really good time we need to go through hell!
" hey, welcome back, how was it? "
FANTASTIC!!!
It was great to be back. The fishing trip had also been a great success, in a small open toped wooden long boat the three of them had had a great time. Franco, Jo and Ash had caught some wonderful, butter fish and lady fish.Jo had been seasick a few times but they had had a good day.
It's a BBQ then. So after a long long shower and without drawing breath we swing into preparation of a smashing meal. Cold white wine, clean white china great company, lovely home coming.
Wonderful bed.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Location:George Town- Bijilo
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