Something that I will definitely miss about going home is the abundance of fabric shops in the market, as well as getting clothes made. I know that fabric stores and tailors exist in the US, but it’s so different here. For one, the clothes are much cheaper to get made here than at home, and the fabrics so much happier. At home, you don’t get clothes made for you, you just buy clothes at the mall. But here, I’ve been having a lot of fun getting some super cute clothes made.
Our Wolof instructor originally was going to take us to the tailor that all of the Peace Corps volunteers go to, but back when we went to the National Assembly and I needed an outfit made in two days, we went just down the street to a nearby tailor. Since then, we’ve been going back quite often to get lots of stuff made. I’ve had three skirts, two dresses and one African outfit made since we’ve befriended these people, with one more shirt on the way. One dress I wore on Saturday night for my birthday celebrations, and I think I was looking fabulously shiny. Love it!
Now, the other day, I went in to pick up a dress and the head tailor—who only speaks French, mind you—was incredibly smiley. “Oh, well he’s in a good mood now isn’t he?” Well, right before I left, he walked into the back and returned with a newspaper-wrapped package. “Give this to Bridget,” the woman translating for him said, “tell her it is a gift from Modou.” As I walked out of the shop, some guys across the street started laughing. “This is awkward,” I thought and shoved the package into my bag. Back at home, Bridget opened it up—”Is this my blue dress?” “Oh, I don’t think so Bridget…”—and inside were two articles of clothing and a note from Modou, stating that he really appreciates her and hopes that it is not a crime (what might be the crime, we’re not sure, but okay, no worries Modou). Since then, it was a little bit awkward for a while going to the tailor, but since I’ve got crazy curves and need to get everything altered at least once, I had to get over that awkwardness due to my going there every other day.
But you know, a tailor is a great person to have as a friend/fan. I wasn’t super pleased with the prices that I paid for my dresses—Bridget got a ton of dresses made for 300D each, whereas I paid 450D for one and 350D for the other. Still not bad prices, admittedly, but I’ve become quite the cheapskate since I’ve been in the Gambia. (Another thing I won’t enjoy about going home: being jobless and really not being able to afford a thing!) But somehow out of all of this, I’ve gotten a free skirt and will be getting a free shirt as well. Bridget and I getting free clothes? There are worse people to have like you than a tailor. I may not be able to converse with him, but I think I can get over that if it means cute clothes in amazingly colorful fabrics that no one back home will have.
Last Friday, the crew traveled up to Banjul to attend the opening of the National Assembly. We finally, after two months of being in the Gam, saw President Jammeh in the flesh (and not just passing by in his motorcade throwing cookies out at children).
We arrived at the Assembly building around 4:45, probably later than we should have, because we almost didn’t make it inside for a seat. (That meant we would have had to sit outside, watching the speech on a screen.) But Dr. Fourshey worked her magic, telling the people at the door that we did get there early, but we’re just too polite and wouldn’t push forward like all of the other people were doing. (Seriously, these are important people in the Gambia, and they were all clamoring to get in, practically climbing over each other! Insanity.) We made it inside, claimed seats in the back row, and waited.
Jammeh rolled up in his stretch Hummer, standing up through the sunroof and waving to the crowds around. We watched as he made his way through the entrance to the Assembly grounds, and waited for him to eventually make it into the Assembly room to give his speech. We had prime viewing seats. Even though the people sitting in front of us were kind of tall and we had to crane our necks to see Jammeh, he was literally directly in front of us.
Jammeh talked for a very long time, over three hours. He talked about education, jobs and the economy, youth, the military, democratic elections, creation, the environment, roads and transportation, civil service. He cracked a lot of Fula jokes. When he talked about creation, he said that Westerners are taught to believe that Africans come from monkeys—but sometimes when he looks at some monkeys, he can understand that maybe Fulas come from them. Oh, and when people are taught evolution, they are taught that rocks became Fulas, fish became Jolas, ants became Serahules. He said that democratic elections will certainly continue in The Gambia, but that he will be president as long as the sky is up. He said that he will continue to pour as much money into security and the military as he does into education and conservation. He talked about The Gambia drilling for oil. He also said that men need to start working the land and the farms as hard as women do. That certainly got a lot of laughter. But he was serious, oh he was serious.
Let’s just say that he talked about a lot of things. I mean, he talked for three hours. I certainly can’t remember everything he mentioned, because I zoned out a lot. It was definitely interesting, listening to him speak about the issues that really concern him and The Gambia, about what he plans to do in 2011 and beyond, hearing the jokes that I usually didn’t really understand but laughed along to anyway, watching many important people around me fall asleep at various times. Dylan and Holly fell asleep for periods of time throughout the speech. Apparently, Holly was shown sleeping on TV.
At the end of the speech, as Jammeh began shaking hands with people and saying goodbye (sadly we did not get to shake his hand, but we are positive we will find another opportunity), Bridget managed to get his wife to wave to her. We had all made eye contact with her at various points throughout the evening. Maybe she’s our in—she can get us a meeting with the President!
Oh, and I rocked my brand new Gambian outfit, too. I have to say, I think that Holly and I were looking pretty fly.
1) Fabric shopping in Serrekunda Market. On Sunday, our Wolof instructor took us to the market to get fabric so we can get clothes made for us, and a few of us went back yesterday to get a bit more fabric. The patterns are gorgeous, so many to choose from, from bright greens and yellows and blues to calm tans and browns; big, bold patterns of keys, chickens, or trees, or smaller subtle swirls and circles; and all piled so high in each shop. I got four meters worth of two fabrics and two meters worth of another three, plus one meter of a fabric with Jammeh’s face on it. (I couldn’t resist.) Bridget is the master haggler—she can talk down any price, she can play off the “you are my wife!” remarks from shopkeepers (“well, then you should give me the wife price of free!”), and she gets what she wants. She’s the perfect shopping companion in the market.
2) Going to the tailor. I actually wasn’t expecting to get clothes made so soon, but on Monday, Mohammed informed us that on Friday, we get to attend the opening of the National Assembly. Jammeh will give a speech, lots of important people—diplomats, parliament members, etc.—will be there, and we may even get to be on TV. That said, we need to look good. Holly and I stopped into a tailor right down the street from us, who Mary Catherine from the Nova Scotia-Gambia Association had also recommended to us, and while Holly was lucky enough to have a ready-made outfit tailored for her, I brought in some of the fabric I got yesterday and will hopefully have a Gambian outfit ready to pick up tomorrow evening. Looking fierce for the National Assembly? Here’s hoping! And now that we’ve established a relationship with this tailor, I’m thinking we’ll get more of our clothes made there—fifty dalasi wrap skirts, maybe a cute summer dress (I have the perfect fabric for the perfect dress in mind!). I’m pumped!
3) Being regular fixtures at La Parisienne and Alaedin’s. I actually haven’t been to the beach in over a week and a half now, but you know what? I don’t feel bad about that. I like the beach, but I’ve realized (or re-realized) that I’m not so much a beach bum than I am a coffee shop lover. I like relaxing, reading, people-watching. La Parisienne is perfect for this. Oftentimes, a few of us will head down to La Parisienne to do homework or read, just to escape from the boredom and distractions of the compound (which we have affectionately dubbed “Club Toubab”). In fact, I might just go there today to enjoy a coffee, work on some homework, and relax! Another restaurant we have found ourselves at (almost every other day it seems!) is Alaedin’s, a Lebanese restaurant. We go there very often to enjoy the mixed grill or pizza and to chat with the other regular customers there. The owner Hussein, a wonderfully funny man, often sits to chat and chill with us, and one of the workers there, Modou, has been teaching us new Wolof vocabulary. I could feel content with going to Alaedin’s every day, the people are so wonderful and I’m always in such a great mood there. Our obnoxious American table is always the life of the party it seems, always filled with laughter and smiles.
4) Seeing the same people everywhere. It seems like we will meet someone one day, and then see them all over the place after that. Just yesterday, as we were trying to flag down a ride home, a Hummer pulls over and the window rolls down. Why, it’s Bilal, one of the Lebanese men we met in Senegambia the other night! “I knew I recognized those girls!” he said and we jumped in the car and chatted with him as he drove us to the Election House. Turns out, we’ve actually seen his Hummer almost every time we go to the traffic light, as it sits in the parking lot at his place of employment right at that intersection. Another time last week, one guy, Nounou, drove us to Alaedin’s (after our original destination, the Chinese restaurant, was closed), where he goes quite often (as does, it seems, most of the Lebanese population in the Gambia). Turns out, we’ve actually met his cousin before, and probably many other family members of his, as his uncle owns Castle Oil and oh yes, we’ve met many Lebanese people involved in oil here. Every day, I’m reminded of how small this country is, and I love it. We’re supposed to go to a barbeque that Nounou invited us to this weekend, and we’re wondering how many of the Lebanese folks we’ve met will be there. We really want to find out who is related to whom…
5) Ataya with the neighbors. We have a few neighbors who are really fantastic. Buba from Basse, who has been in Old Jeshwang for about three months, and Omar from Mali, who has been here for about six, became good friends with Dylan and since then, we’ve had some ataya nights outside our compound with them. Ataya is not just a tea (with lots and lots of sugar, yum!), but an excuse for socializing, for sitting around and chatting and relaxing. Usually men sit around in a circle outside their compounds and brew ataya (in fact, there is really this “ataya culture” all over the Gambia, as unemployed men just sit around, brew ataya and smoke; usually, when the police stop you at a checkpoint, they will ask for a bribe so that way they can buy and brew ataya themselves), but Buba and Omar have taken to coming to our compound to invite the rest of us to join them, girls and guys. We’ve learned a lot about the differences between the bush and the city, we’ve taught them about the differences between Gambian and American cultures (“You don’t want to get married?!” “Well, maybe not for like ten years.” “You will be too old!”), and they’ve been teaching us some Mandinka phrases and words (most of which I admittedly do not remember, but I do know how to say eyeglasses!). Buba will probably leave in another month or so to return to Basse, which really saddens me because he’s a great friend to have here. He’s been teaching Dylan how to brew ataya, Gavin and Matilda have tried it out, too, and he said that next time I have to try it out. There is a long process in brewing it I keep telling everyone that if I try to brew it, all of the tea will end up on the ground, but they won’t let me refuse for too much longer, I imagine! Omar will probably stick around a bit longer (though I’m not sure about this), and hopefully the ataya nights will continue. All I know is that I hope Dylan, Aaron and I continue the ataya nights at Juniata, too—gotta bring our favorite aspects of the Gam back home!
