Jammeh's Jamboree

This year marks the fiftieth anniversary of the Peace Corps. To celebrate, all over the world, different Peace Corps countries and the governments therein are having events, throwing parties, giving gifts to commemorate all the brave young men and women who’ve put real life on hold to go and explore the unknown.

Recently, the president of the Gambia, His Excellency Sheik Dr. Alhagie Professor Yahya A.J.J. Jammeh, invited all Peace Corps volunteers to his home village, to properly honor the time the Peace Corps has been present in the Gambia, which as of this year, has been 45 years uninterrupted. Through coups and revolutions, Peace Corps has been ever present in The Gambia.

Peace Corps volunteers have seen how village meetings and programs are run in the Gambia. We know not to expect a meeting in the village to start until two hours after it’s supposed to, we know when it says there’s lodging it’s probably sleeping on a thin mat on a concrete slab, and we know that if food is provided it’s probably fish, palm oil, and okra.

But would it be different when the president was our Gambian host? Time would tell.

The program was set to begin at 4pm, with lunch. We arrived at around 4, after a police escorted hour and a half trip from Kombo to Kanilai. A Peace Corps volunteer got on the intercom system on the bus (yes it was one of those buses – a la eighth grade band trip to Florida) and acted as our tour guide. He pointed out the trees of the Gambia, the point at which the pavement stopped, and my favorite, uttered this quote: “On your right, you’ll see Yuna psychiatric hospital and liquor production facility”. And sure enough, to our right, there it was.

We arrived at around four to a large welcoming party. We finished eating at around five thirty, over an hour late, as expected. If the lunch spread was any indication of how the night would go, we were in for a treat. Every time I looked up, they brought out a new roasted goat filled with stuffing; they had delicious domoda, roasted lamb, tons of fresh fruit, and overall things that provide slightly more taste and nutrition than the average Gambian meal.

Then we all moved to the stadium. We sat in the seats of honor, behind where the president was expected to sit. We sat, watching the dancing Jammeh supporters, listening to the band, and waiting for the big man to make his appearance. The actual ceremony was expected to start at six.

Darkness fell, and still no president had shown his face. At this point we were tired of acting like honorable guests of honor, so I got the people sitting around me involved in a round of “the ugly game”, where each person tries to make him or herself as ugly as possible, and then capture it on digital camera.

Finally, at around 7:45, the president showed up. His arrival was perhaps my favorite thing about the entire night. Most presidents don’t drive themselves anywhere – it’s much safer for someone else to sit in the driver’s seat. But President Jammeh isn’t most presidents. He peeled out in his Land Rover, his traditional white robes blowing wildly in the wind. He squealed to a stop in the grass in front of the leather couch that had been placed there specifically for this purpose, and his henchman approached the car, opened the door, and quickly ushered him onto the couch. Like communion on Easter Sunday, we all quickly cycled from our seat to the front to greet and shake the president’s hand, then back around to our seats.

Then the ceremony began. We sang both national anthems. There were numerous speeches, some well thought out and eloquent ones, some long and rambling ones. Speeches were given by Peace Corps volunteers in each of the local languages. You could tell the crowd got a kick out of hearing toubabs speak and joke fluently in their local language. Even the president gave a couple of guffaws. After this, pretty much everyone who ever was involved in the Peace Corps and is now in government gave a speech. And like most programs in The Gambia, it went on FAR TOO LONG. By the time all the speaking was finished, it was around 10:30 pm. Dinner was planned to be served at 8 pm. Only two and half hours late is about right for the Gambia, so we were all relatively pleased with the timetable of the night.

But then, the president announced he had an exciting surprise for us. First, he asked all female volunteers to stand, which we did, although slightly nervously. Visions of massive wedding ceremonies flooded through my head, but then the president announced he wanted to give us all dressed. We all exchanged excited looks, and now new visions flooded my head – traditional, embroidered, wax print dresses for all of us. Or even better, a dress made out of the fabric printed with the president’s face and name. We all got in a long line to receive our gifts. They were all folded, so we couldn’t really see what we were being offered until we got back to our seats and could open them…

And the president had given every Peace Corps volunteer a Gambian made… pantsuit. Imagine a 70’s flight attendant uniform, then put it a color two steps uglier, and embroider it four levels gaudier, and that’s about what we received. I chose a lovely lime green shirt, far too small, with embroidery that has a pattern you’d see on a blanket in New Mexico. Some girls received some pretty inappropriate stuff, with embroidered arrows pointing directly to their nether regions… Immediately people started talking about throwing their presidential gifts into the free pile. I’m hoping enough people held onto theirs that we can use them for uniforms for WAIST (West African International Softball Tournament) this year.

Then the Peace Corps men were invited up, and to the ladies’ shock, many of them were given beautiful, traditional, wax printed clothes. Some unlucky ones near the back got embroidered white t shirts, but some dudes hit the jackpot.

Finally, gifts given and speeches heard, we moved to the dining area to eat and watch the movie created by a Peace Corps volunteer about Peace Corps in the Gambia. It was about 12:30 pm.

At 1am, we moved to the food. There were cakes, there was salad, there was meat and fresh fruit. I ate triple what any normal person should, but I knew a few short days would find me back in village, eating fish bones only. As I was walking around the tennis court (where the food was set up and served), I was piling food on my plate, while simultaneously eating the tiny cakes he had millions of. I probably ate eighteen tiny pieces of cake by the time the dinner was over. We all ate as much as we possibly could, watched the movie, and then were completely exhausted and ready to sleep in the presidential accommodations the pres had arranged for us.

As we were indulging, our safety and security coordinator came around, and told us the nice lodge in the village only had thirteen rooms, and Peace Corps staff would stay there. So, we could stay in this abandoned apartment complex, or we could return back to Kombo to stay in the Peace Corps house. I chose to return, and entered the door to the place I would finally rest my head at 4am.

Those that stayed said that the lodging was a concrete room, a mattress on the floor, and no electricity… so in fact, even less accommodating than our pit latrine equipped huts with beds.

Despite the tardiness, the poor accommodations, the exhaustion, we all had a pretty good time, and definitely felt that the people of the Gambia appreciated what we and our predecessors have done for the country.

At least, we felt that until a few hours later, when a large number of us had immense gastrointestinal discomfort. Apparently, food that is prepared and ready to be served at 8pm is not quite as intestinally accepted when it’s served at 1am.