In the Basse market today, the best thing to have ever happened to me or the University of Illinois, happened. I was walking and saw, hanging from a hanger, over a pile of trash, gleaming like an angel, an embroidered Illinois Basketball shirt.
Before I go into the details of this Illinois basketball shirt, I want to tell you the first Illinois basketball shirt that I encountered in this fine country. A man was wearing one in my tiny village of Nyakoi. I knew very little Mandinka at the time, and so thought twice before approaching him to declare my love for the Harvard of the Midwest (this is a lie. A big lie). I went to him excitedly and said in Mandinka “Me! School! My school!”. Having exhausted my Mandinka I said, “Do you speak English”, and he of course said no. So h, despite the fact that he knew no English, I went into a long soliloquy about how I went to the University represented on his shirt, and how I loved my time there, and it’s so weird that he is wearing a shirt of MY school, in MY tiny village, thousands of miles away. Then I left.
So anyway, during this exchange, I knew I would probably fair better. I know slightly more Mandinka, and I was in a town where most vendors know at least a little English. So, I excitedly marched up and said, THIS IS MY SCHOOL. I WENT HERE! Then I switched to English, and told my host sister and the four people working at this tiny stand that I went here. I made them all say “The University of Illinois”, “The Best University in America” (again, I know, I lied, not true). Then I sang the fight song, did the dance that goes with it, and made them repeat the dance. Only after this did I say, How much.
Upon reflection, I maybe should have left it hanging so that a Gambian would buy it and spread the Illini nation by bringing the Chief’s glorious image to his or her village… but I had to have it. He started with the ridiculous price of 200 dalasis. I said, “Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyeeeeehhhhh” in the aghast Gambian way. With the help of my host sister, I talked him down to 75 dalasis, or the equivalent of about $3.
I looked at the price tag (the shirt came from Marshall’s) and it was going for $19.99 in America, already marked down from the exorbitant price of $32.01 to the low, low price we all have come expect from Marshall’s. Following is a cost analysis of how much you save buying your sports apparel in the Gambia.
Cost of T-shirt at high priced store where only millionaires shop: $32.01.
Price in dalasis: D800.25
Cost of T-shirt at affordable store like Marshalls’s: $19.99
Price is dalasis: D499.75
For a savings of about 37.5%
Cost of T-shirt at dusty road-side stand in Basse, The Gambia: D75.
Price in dollars: $3
For a saving of about 90.7% over the highest price and 85% over Marshall’s.
In my economic opinion, you should come to Basse to do your shopping. Think of the money you could save!
I left my friends at the little mart, went and did some more shopping in Basse, and walked past them later. They all rose, and said, “Hi, Friend! University of Illinois! Best university in America!” One dude, his voice rising above the others in what I can only imagine what Gambian angels (Gambiangels, haha) sound like, said, “Oskee-wow-wow”. Illini nation, take notice.
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Stuff I Want (revised)
- CD mixes of new hits
- Ziploc Bags (especially big, gallon-sized ones)
- Sports illustrated or news publications
- Frisbees
- Gum
- School supplies (markers, pens, colored pencils, pencils, colored paper)
- Clif Bars
- Batteries (AA)
- Gatorade powder
- Candy of any kind
- Funny t shirts
- Educational toys (blocks, cuisinart blocks, anything kindergarteners might learn something from)
- Seeds (for food or flowers)
- Ziploc Bags (especially big, gallon-sized ones)
- Sports illustrated or news publications
- Frisbees
- Gum
- School supplies (markers, pens, colored pencils, pencils, colored paper)
- Clif Bars
- Batteries (AA)
- Gatorade powder
- Candy of any kind
- Funny t shirts
- Educational toys (blocks, cuisinart blocks, anything kindergarteners might learn something from)
- Seeds (for food or flowers)
You-Rine
*The following is an announcement made to the entire Nyakoi Lower Basic School student body before school on a Monday
Another thing has been bothering us at school. Some of you students are using the school environment as your toilet. If you need to urinate (pronounced you-rine-ate, with emphasis on the RINE) you need to go to the toilets behind the school. I’ve caught a few of you younger ones you-rine-ating along the back wall behind the school, and some of the classrooms are starting to smell. You can’t just spread your YOU-RINE wherever you want.
Another thing has been bothering us at school. Some of you students are using the school environment as your toilet. If you need to urinate (pronounced you-rine-ate, with emphasis on the RINE) you need to go to the toilets behind the school. I’ve caught a few of you younger ones you-rine-ating along the back wall behind the school, and some of the classrooms are starting to smell. You can’t just spread your YOU-RINE wherever you want.
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Dear Chacos
The following is the email I sent to Chacos to plea for their help. If you know any high ups in the Chacos, organization, please let me know, and pass along this email.
Dear Chacos employees -
My name is Abby Adams, and I am a Peace Corps volunteer serving in the
tiny West African country of the Gambia. The Gambia is surrounded by
Senegal, and is the fifteenth least developed country in the world. I
live in a round hut, with a thatched roof, and have no running water
or electricity.
I am writing to tell you of a tragic loss that occurred while trekking
throughout the country, on my way to the village where I will stay for
my two years of service.
I purchased my first beloved pair of Chacos in September of 2008 at a
kayaking festival in North Carolina. I had heard how great they were
through the hiking and kayaking community, and found people's
recommendations to be exactly correct. For the two years after
purchasing them, I wore them almost everywhere. They were
comfortable, rugged, and in the grass roots service organization in
Tennessee at which I worked, they were even considered work
appropriate.
As soon as I was accepted into the Peace Corps, I began making a
packing list, and my Chacos were one of the first things on the list.
In the first few months in the Gambia, they were valuable shoes to
have. They dealt with the mud of the rainy season well, but gave me
traction and stability in the dry sand roads that I had to trudge
through when we went a few hot days without rain.
On the way out to my village, about six hours from the capital,
somehow one of my Chacos fell out of the car. Despite never having
left the vehicle, my Chaco disappeared without a trace. I have only
the one shoe left, constantly reminding me of what once was.
I am writing to plea for your help. As a volunteer, who just arrived
in The Gambia within the past three months, I have very little money,
and hope to save some to see more of Africa and the world, while I
have this rare opportunity.
I would very much appreciate if you would send me a new pair of
Chacos. I am including below my address in the Gambia, as well as my
address in America. If shoes are sent to the America address, a
visitor will be able to get them to me at some point. My shoe size is
a women's ten. I love bright colors, and hate pink.
Also attached is a picture of the last excursion I took with my
Chacos, through the bush of the Gambia. There was quicksand, water up
to my waist, and alternated between hot sun and rainstorms. The
second picture is of the feet of a few of my Peace Corps friends and
I, and our noticeable Chacos tans.
Thank you again for considering my request. I appreciate you and love
your product, and hope to continue to represent the adventurous and
outdoorsy spirit that Chacos embodies.
Sincerely,
Abby Adams
This is the response I received from Chacos.
Hello Abby,
Thanks for the note and the photos! Yikes! That is true mud. I can check in our stock of single sandals and see if we have a mate for you. What size, color and model are these? Let me know and I will see what I can do for you.
Best regards,
WHAT? A ROOM OF ORPHAN SHOES!! I am now almost more interested in obtaining a picture, and getting a clear idea of the size and scape of this shoe collection than I am in obtaining a replacement shoe (if a Chacos employee is reading this, this is not true. I would still prefer to have a replacement shoe, but in a perfect world, I would get both). I’m going to send a request for a photo from said Chacos employee, and if the request is granted, I will post it here.
Dear Chacos employees -
My name is Abby Adams, and I am a Peace Corps volunteer serving in the
tiny West African country of the Gambia. The Gambia is surrounded by
Senegal, and is the fifteenth least developed country in the world. I
live in a round hut, with a thatched roof, and have no running water
or electricity.
I am writing to tell you of a tragic loss that occurred while trekking
throughout the country, on my way to the village where I will stay for
my two years of service.
I purchased my first beloved pair of Chacos in September of 2008 at a
kayaking festival in North Carolina. I had heard how great they were
through the hiking and kayaking community, and found people's
recommendations to be exactly correct. For the two years after
purchasing them, I wore them almost everywhere. They were
comfortable, rugged, and in the grass roots service organization in
Tennessee at which I worked, they were even considered work
appropriate.
As soon as I was accepted into the Peace Corps, I began making a
packing list, and my Chacos were one of the first things on the list.
In the first few months in the Gambia, they were valuable shoes to
have. They dealt with the mud of the rainy season well, but gave me
traction and stability in the dry sand roads that I had to trudge
through when we went a few hot days without rain.
On the way out to my village, about six hours from the capital,
somehow one of my Chacos fell out of the car. Despite never having
left the vehicle, my Chaco disappeared without a trace. I have only
the one shoe left, constantly reminding me of what once was.
I am writing to plea for your help. As a volunteer, who just arrived
in The Gambia within the past three months, I have very little money,
and hope to save some to see more of Africa and the world, while I
have this rare opportunity.
I would very much appreciate if you would send me a new pair of
Chacos. I am including below my address in the Gambia, as well as my
address in America. If shoes are sent to the America address, a
visitor will be able to get them to me at some point. My shoe size is
a women's ten. I love bright colors, and hate pink.
Also attached is a picture of the last excursion I took with my
Chacos, through the bush of the Gambia. There was quicksand, water up
to my waist, and alternated between hot sun and rainstorms. The
second picture is of the feet of a few of my Peace Corps friends and
I, and our noticeable Chacos tans.
Thank you again for considering my request. I appreciate you and love
your product, and hope to continue to represent the adventurous and
outdoorsy spirit that Chacos embodies.
Sincerely,
Abby Adams
This is the response I received from Chacos.
Hello Abby,
Thanks for the note and the photos! Yikes! That is true mud. I can check in our stock of single sandals and see if we have a mate for you. What size, color and model are these? Let me know and I will see what I can do for you.
Best regards,
WHAT? A ROOM OF ORPHAN SHOES!! I am now almost more interested in obtaining a picture, and getting a clear idea of the size and scape of this shoe collection than I am in obtaining a replacement shoe (if a Chacos employee is reading this, this is not true. I would still prefer to have a replacement shoe, but in a perfect world, I would get both). I’m going to send a request for a photo from said Chacos employee, and if the request is granted, I will post it here.
Peace Corps Texts From Last Night
Through the Peace Corps, we are in a cell phone plan which gives us free texting and calling among Peace Corps volunteers and employees… suddenly every witty remark is sent to everyone you know who appreciates funny things. These are just a few of those that I have sent and received over my months here.
Me: Major topic of our staff meeting today: we have a school goat. Favorite quote of the meeting, immediately upon remembering that the school does in fact own a goat: Where is that goat?
Katie: Giant lizard the size of my face is in my room. Inshallah it leaves before I go to sleep because I have no other ideas about how to handle the situation.
Me: I’m checking lesson plans and schemes of work today… Favorite quote: “skripple on the slap”. Oh, Africa.
Me: Handwriting practice today featured writing this sentence ten times: “I am tall and black.” Oh, Africa.
Lily: So just went into a third grade math class the teacher added 3/5 and 1/4 without an lcm and then proceeded to convert the answer of 4/9 into the mixed number of 1 and ½.
Me: Someone stole my friends bike. In response, he said `I will go to the maribou and he will not urinate for 3 days. Then he will die.` The Gambian justice system at its best.
Julie: I am teaching library, but the principal has borrowed my boys to wash his goat.
Me: I was just sitting here in the dark thinking about how I’ve never heard a Gambian fart. What are you doing?
Jess: Some of the topics grouped together in the English course syllabus my principal gave me: space travel, bumsters, sports.
Jess: I think I’ll have the kids write stories about a footballer who is driven to prostitution. On mars.
Me: Does it ever bother you that everyone calls the principal simply “Master”? Maybe it’s because I just finished reading Roots.
One of our language teachers, responding to the question of how to say “map” in Mandinka.
Teacher: Bankoolu la naanee yitandi kaytoo. Meaning the paper on which country’s boundaries are shown. Substitute bankoolu with gambia saatewolu.
Teacher: Or simply maapoo.
Me: Major topic of our staff meeting today: we have a school goat. Favorite quote of the meeting, immediately upon remembering that the school does in fact own a goat: Where is that goat?
Katie: Giant lizard the size of my face is in my room. Inshallah it leaves before I go to sleep because I have no other ideas about how to handle the situation.
Me: I’m checking lesson plans and schemes of work today… Favorite quote: “skripple on the slap”. Oh, Africa.
Me: Handwriting practice today featured writing this sentence ten times: “I am tall and black.” Oh, Africa.
Lily: So just went into a third grade math class the teacher added 3/5 and 1/4 without an lcm and then proceeded to convert the answer of 4/9 into the mixed number of 1 and ½.
Me: Someone stole my friends bike. In response, he said `I will go to the maribou and he will not urinate for 3 days. Then he will die.` The Gambian justice system at its best.
Julie: I am teaching library, but the principal has borrowed my boys to wash his goat.
Me: I was just sitting here in the dark thinking about how I’ve never heard a Gambian fart. What are you doing?
Jess: Some of the topics grouped together in the English course syllabus my principal gave me: space travel, bumsters, sports.
Jess: I think I’ll have the kids write stories about a footballer who is driven to prostitution. On mars.
Me: Does it ever bother you that everyone calls the principal simply “Master”? Maybe it’s because I just finished reading Roots.
One of our language teachers, responding to the question of how to say “map” in Mandinka.
Teacher: Bankoolu la naanee yitandi kaytoo. Meaning the paper on which country’s boundaries are shown. Substitute bankoolu with gambia saatewolu.
Teacher: Or simply maapoo.
Nyakoi Sport Committee Meeting Notes
Last meeting, I attempted to take notes about what I understood of our meeting, held only in Mandinka. This is what I wrote.
Today, _________________ and ____________________ will come. Modou ___ go _____. Football is happening _____________________________________________________________________. Basse is ______________________________________ and water __________________________ tomorrow. We want _________________ and _____________________ and ___________________ and maybe _______________. Teachers _________________________ master ________________________ field now. It’s good. Praise Allah.
After this failure, I quit and waited for my translator to help me. A fellow member translated the following information to me, after probably about a fifteen minute discussion.
Ref of the matches/Secretary of the Committee (R/S): The Medina team is demanding that the Farato team be punished. They say that they hired a marabou (a village holy man) to put a curse of the refs so that Farato would win the game.
President of the Committee (P): What? There’s no way to prove black magic. Let’s write a letter to medina, telling them we can’t prosecute for what we can’t prove. Let’s also write a letter to Farato, explaining that black magic cannot be used. Secretary, will you write the letter?
R/S: I don’t want to write the letter.
P: You have to. You’re the secretary.
R/S: Yeah, but last game… I don’t know. I felt strange…
P: What do you mean?
R/S: My head felt strange… I felt unconscious.
*The whole crowd shares meaningful glances, acknowledging the work of black magic.
R/S: I don’t want to write the letter.
P: Ok. We won’t write a letter.
Today, _________________ and ____________________ will come. Modou ___ go _____. Football is happening _____________________________________________________________________. Basse is ______________________________________ and water __________________________ tomorrow. We want _________________ and _____________________ and ___________________ and maybe _______________. Teachers _________________________ master ________________________ field now. It’s good. Praise Allah.
After this failure, I quit and waited for my translator to help me. A fellow member translated the following information to me, after probably about a fifteen minute discussion.
Ref of the matches/Secretary of the Committee (R/S): The Medina team is demanding that the Farato team be punished. They say that they hired a marabou (a village holy man) to put a curse of the refs so that Farato would win the game.
President of the Committee (P): What? There’s no way to prove black magic. Let’s write a letter to medina, telling them we can’t prosecute for what we can’t prove. Let’s also write a letter to Farato, explaining that black magic cannot be used. Secretary, will you write the letter?
R/S: I don’t want to write the letter.
P: You have to. You’re the secretary.
R/S: Yeah, but last game… I don’t know. I felt strange…
P: What do you mean?
R/S: My head felt strange… I felt unconscious.
*The whole crowd shares meaningful glances, acknowledging the work of black magic.
R/S: I don’t want to write the letter.
P: Ok. We won’t write a letter.
Things That Shouldn’t be on a Soccer Field During a Game That Were on the Soccer Field during a Game
The following is a comprehensive list of things that, throughout the football tournament in Nyakoi, I have seen on a field* which I think should be elsewhere during play.
*By “on a field” I do not mean simply encroaching into the playspace. I mean impeding the progress or affecting the flow of the game due to their presence alone.
-a pack of four donkeys
-a pair of donkeys
-three children riding donkeys
-an old woman with bananas on her head
-an old woman with firewood on her head
-an old woman just taking a stroll (who made no effort to move more quickly when the action approached her)
-Fighting children (this was seen a ridiculous amount of times, but I will write it only once)
-A convoy of motor bikes
-a BUNCH of chickens
-crawling infants
-a rake (I could not believe it when a player knelt down in the taller grass and pulled up a rake… how dangerous is that!? And we can’t even afford a first aid kit to deal with the consequences)
*By “on a field” I do not mean simply encroaching into the playspace. I mean impeding the progress or affecting the flow of the game due to their presence alone.
-a pack of four donkeys
-a pair of donkeys
-three children riding donkeys
-an old woman with bananas on her head
-an old woman with firewood on her head
-an old woman just taking a stroll (who made no effort to move more quickly when the action approached her)
-Fighting children (this was seen a ridiculous amount of times, but I will write it only once)
-A convoy of motor bikes
-a BUNCH of chickens
-crawling infants
-a rake (I could not believe it when a player knelt down in the taller grass and pulled up a rake… how dangerous is that!? And we can’t even afford a first aid kit to deal with the consequences)
Sky Roads and Credit Cards
Wherever you are, go to a window, and look out at the sky. Chances are, if you live in America, you see at least one or two planes RIGHT NOW. Since coming to the Gambia, I have seen approximately 2 planes… in four months. And by approximately, I mean exactly.
On one of these rare occurrences when I saw an airplane in the sky, I was sitting with my young friend Maimuna. She looked up, gasped, and asked me what being on an airplane is like. I told her it was just like sitting in a car, but less bumpy. Then she asked more questions.
Are there roads that the plane drives on in the sky?
- No, there aren’t any roads… it’s… well it’s kept up by wind… more is pushing up than down… you have to go really fast…
She was confused by this answer. She decided to change topics from the physics of air travel to the logistics.
Do you just go to the airport and wait for a plane to come, like with a gele gele?
- No… you have to go online… umm, you have to go on the internet and search for a flight leaving when you want to leave.
So you can hire a plane for when you want to go?
- … no. They only leave on certain days at certain times… and you have to be there then.
So you just showed up at the airport and bought your ticket?
- …no. you buys tickets online… on the computer. With a credit card.
So you sent your money?
- …no. credit cards send it automatically… over the computer… or phone wires… or internet. You have special numbers that link to your bank account… (this continued for many minutes, with me backtracking, starting over, giving false information, and overall confusing Maimuna thoroughly.) You see?
Ok.
Self realization: I have no idea how to buy a plane ticket if you don’t do it on the internet.
On one of these rare occurrences when I saw an airplane in the sky, I was sitting with my young friend Maimuna. She looked up, gasped, and asked me what being on an airplane is like. I told her it was just like sitting in a car, but less bumpy. Then she asked more questions.
Are there roads that the plane drives on in the sky?
- No, there aren’t any roads… it’s… well it’s kept up by wind… more is pushing up than down… you have to go really fast…
She was confused by this answer. She decided to change topics from the physics of air travel to the logistics.
Do you just go to the airport and wait for a plane to come, like with a gele gele?
- No… you have to go online… umm, you have to go on the internet and search for a flight leaving when you want to leave.
So you can hire a plane for when you want to go?
- … no. They only leave on certain days at certain times… and you have to be there then.
So you just showed up at the airport and bought your ticket?
- …no. you buys tickets online… on the computer. With a credit card.
So you sent your money?
- …no. credit cards send it automatically… over the computer… or phone wires… or internet. You have special numbers that link to your bank account… (this continued for many minutes, with me backtracking, starting over, giving false information, and overall confusing Maimuna thoroughly.) You see?
Ok.
Self realization: I have no idea how to buy a plane ticket if you don’t do it on the internet.
Saturday, October 2, 2010
All Gambians Play Basketball Like Girls
Is this statement racist? Maybe. Is this statement sexist? Maybe. Is it stereotypical and does it generalize an entire nation and gender group? Perhaps. But is it 100% true? Absolutely.
I went to a Muslim secondary school in Basse today, to talk to a man who’s excited about the prospects of having somebody come and train his students in basketball, or as the Gambians call it, “basket”, and in volleyball, as the Gambians call either simply “volley”, or adorably, “volley-volley”. Through an informal meeting with him in the library, soon it expanded into a committee of interested school officials, including the vice principal, the librarian, two PE teachers, and for some reason, a cook.
One of the PE teachers is kind of a head honcho in the sports world of the URR (my region of The Gambia). I’m pretty excited to work with him more, and he was equally excited. He invited me to speak on his sports radio show… I promptly asked what in the world I would talk about, and he asked me to share some of my expertise… I told if he gave me a list of questions and gave me time to prepare, I would love to have my voice float over The Gambia on the airwaves… if you have any ideas on what I could possibly talk about, let me know.
They showed me a letter that the PE teacher was about to send to the Regional Education Office, which detailed their need for materials, which I promptly informed them I probably can’t provide. The letter also asked for people with expertise in sports and training. They asked me what skills I had, and I told them I had played basketball and softball all my life, played rugby for a while, run some, and played volleyball recreationally… Suddenly, they all start exclaiming about how Allah has answered their prayers and provided them with an expert to solve all of their sporting woes.
The PE teacher had a basketball lesson in about half an hour, so they invited me to stay and watch. I was excited to see what he knew, and also a little nervous, since he was carrying around a photocopied piece of paper with a diagram of a court on it and he had highlighted only “Naismith”.
So he gathered the students and brought them out to the court. It was his introductory lesson, so he showed them the ball, the three point line, and half court, and then told them that they couldn’t run with the ball, they had to pass it to a friend. One person asked if they could kick the ball, and he said that, no, that would be a foul. Then he said, OK… let’s go. He chose ten people, and sent them to the court to play…
Thus the madness ensued. Now keep in mind – these students have never seen a basketball game on TV or in person. It’s doubtful that they’ve ever seen anybody playing basketball correctly, and since the teacher trained in Physical Education thought that Naismith and “don’t kick it” were the only things students need to know, my expectations were low. But not low enough.
The PE teacher brought the ball out to center court, and said, “We start the game by throwing the ball up in the center”. Everyone gathered around, and leapt into the middle when the ball went up. No one can catch the ball. Attempts at dribbling were ridiculous affairs involving players throwing the over-inflated ball at the ground as hard as they could, and then it, in line with the laws of physics, hurtling back up into the hands and/or faces. I’m pretty confident that at no point was anyone actually holding the basketball, it was just tipped and tapped and kicked (even though it’s against the rules) from one player to the other. No baskets were scored, and I’m fairly certain no one hit the rim.
Also, side note. One end of the court had TWO HUGE piles of donkey crap in the center of the lane. I thought somebody would clean it up before the game… but no. It was like an extra defender for that team, which I think is a worthy strategy.
When the ball was errantly traveling around, sometimes students instincts kicked in, and these instincts are all football related. I wanted to create a rule just for this particular group of people, called “high kicking”. I’ve never been worried before that someone would get kicked in the face during a basketball game, but it was one of my prime concerns in this contest.
At the end of the game, the PE teacher had the students gather around me. He introduced me as a sports expert. Then he asked if I had anything to say to them… I had so many things to say, but what I started with was, “You have many things to learn… but you’re all very athletic!” Sigh.
I have another meeting with them in two weeks, to go and see an actual practice with actual people who are actually interested in playing basketball for the team. Hopefully, some of them will know something, but if not, it’s going to be challenging, exciting, kick-in-the-face fun.
I went to a Muslim secondary school in Basse today, to talk to a man who’s excited about the prospects of having somebody come and train his students in basketball, or as the Gambians call it, “basket”, and in volleyball, as the Gambians call either simply “volley”, or adorably, “volley-volley”. Through an informal meeting with him in the library, soon it expanded into a committee of interested school officials, including the vice principal, the librarian, two PE teachers, and for some reason, a cook.
One of the PE teachers is kind of a head honcho in the sports world of the URR (my region of The Gambia). I’m pretty excited to work with him more, and he was equally excited. He invited me to speak on his sports radio show… I promptly asked what in the world I would talk about, and he asked me to share some of my expertise… I told if he gave me a list of questions and gave me time to prepare, I would love to have my voice float over The Gambia on the airwaves… if you have any ideas on what I could possibly talk about, let me know.
They showed me a letter that the PE teacher was about to send to the Regional Education Office, which detailed their need for materials, which I promptly informed them I probably can’t provide. The letter also asked for people with expertise in sports and training. They asked me what skills I had, and I told them I had played basketball and softball all my life, played rugby for a while, run some, and played volleyball recreationally… Suddenly, they all start exclaiming about how Allah has answered their prayers and provided them with an expert to solve all of their sporting woes.
The PE teacher had a basketball lesson in about half an hour, so they invited me to stay and watch. I was excited to see what he knew, and also a little nervous, since he was carrying around a photocopied piece of paper with a diagram of a court on it and he had highlighted only “Naismith”.
So he gathered the students and brought them out to the court. It was his introductory lesson, so he showed them the ball, the three point line, and half court, and then told them that they couldn’t run with the ball, they had to pass it to a friend. One person asked if they could kick the ball, and he said that, no, that would be a foul. Then he said, OK… let’s go. He chose ten people, and sent them to the court to play…
Thus the madness ensued. Now keep in mind – these students have never seen a basketball game on TV or in person. It’s doubtful that they’ve ever seen anybody playing basketball correctly, and since the teacher trained in Physical Education thought that Naismith and “don’t kick it” were the only things students need to know, my expectations were low. But not low enough.
The PE teacher brought the ball out to center court, and said, “We start the game by throwing the ball up in the center”. Everyone gathered around, and leapt into the middle when the ball went up. No one can catch the ball. Attempts at dribbling were ridiculous affairs involving players throwing the over-inflated ball at the ground as hard as they could, and then it, in line with the laws of physics, hurtling back up into the hands and/or faces. I’m pretty confident that at no point was anyone actually holding the basketball, it was just tipped and tapped and kicked (even though it’s against the rules) from one player to the other. No baskets were scored, and I’m fairly certain no one hit the rim.
Also, side note. One end of the court had TWO HUGE piles of donkey crap in the center of the lane. I thought somebody would clean it up before the game… but no. It was like an extra defender for that team, which I think is a worthy strategy.
When the ball was errantly traveling around, sometimes students instincts kicked in, and these instincts are all football related. I wanted to create a rule just for this particular group of people, called “high kicking”. I’ve never been worried before that someone would get kicked in the face during a basketball game, but it was one of my prime concerns in this contest.
At the end of the game, the PE teacher had the students gather around me. He introduced me as a sports expert. Then he asked if I had anything to say to them… I had so many things to say, but what I started with was, “You have many things to learn… but you’re all very athletic!” Sigh.
I have another meeting with them in two weeks, to go and see an actual practice with actual people who are actually interested in playing basketball for the team. Hopefully, some of them will know something, but if not, it’s going to be challenging, exciting, kick-in-the-face fun.
Friday, October 1, 2010
Resume Builder
One of the things that has gotten me through the boredom so far in my village is a soccer tournament that’s been going on. Just like in high school, girls dress up, sit at the football game, and use it as an excuse to look pretty and socialize. (In this case, looking pretty usually involves full African gear, but the westernized ones choose to wear tight bright pink jeans, and tube tops that say “SHINY” in sequins.) Boys go to the game to watch and yell for their team, but also dressed to impress with their too big embroidered jeans, Jamaican gear, and shirts that say “HEMP” and have a huge marijuana leaf on them.
At one of these soccer games, I was sitting near the table where the head honchos of the tournament sit. I started talking to the guy who appeared in charge, just trying to see what kinds of things they did in the community. He introduced himself as the chairman (or something) of the Nyakoi Sports Committee, and promptly brought over the President, Vice President, and Assistant Chairman or something. I had the same conversation with all of them, how I was really enjoying the tournament, loved all sports, and hoped to maybe start some soccer/literacy camps or maybe other kinds of sports tournaments or sports for girls. They seemed super jazzed, and promptly invited me to their “secret meeting” which was happening the following afternoon. I promptly accepted.
So the next day, I went to the meeting. I sat there for twenty minutes as the committee discussed many important issues. As they would finish a conversation, or it would start to wind down, one of the members who spoke English would look at me and say, “Did you understand that?” and I would say, “Well, no, but I know he said something about a table, and something didn’t come, and… that’s about it.” So my translator would then have the whole discussion for me again in English (which of course was nothing about a table). After a few such sessions, I heard one person say in the middle of a Mandinka sentence the words “female representative”. Since the only other female in the committee was sitting next to me, I thought they were surely talking about her. So when he asked if I understood, I said, “Yeah, you were talking about her” and pointed to the lady sitting next to me.
He informed me that, no, they were actually talking about me. And although I had been there for only twenty minutes, understood nothing of what had gone on, and elongated the meeting by at least double, they had all agreed that they would like to invite me to be the Vice President Female Representative of the Nyakoi Sports Committee… what?!?!
Adding it to the resume. Now now.
We had our second meeting yesterday, and I told them that I had big plans for a Frisbee tournament. They all said, “What? Fresh beans?” So, hopefully, in a few months, the tiny West African country of The Gambia will see it’s first Fresh Beans tournament.
At one of these soccer games, I was sitting near the table where the head honchos of the tournament sit. I started talking to the guy who appeared in charge, just trying to see what kinds of things they did in the community. He introduced himself as the chairman (or something) of the Nyakoi Sports Committee, and promptly brought over the President, Vice President, and Assistant Chairman or something. I had the same conversation with all of them, how I was really enjoying the tournament, loved all sports, and hoped to maybe start some soccer/literacy camps or maybe other kinds of sports tournaments or sports for girls. They seemed super jazzed, and promptly invited me to their “secret meeting” which was happening the following afternoon. I promptly accepted.
So the next day, I went to the meeting. I sat there for twenty minutes as the committee discussed many important issues. As they would finish a conversation, or it would start to wind down, one of the members who spoke English would look at me and say, “Did you understand that?” and I would say, “Well, no, but I know he said something about a table, and something didn’t come, and… that’s about it.” So my translator would then have the whole discussion for me again in English (which of course was nothing about a table). After a few such sessions, I heard one person say in the middle of a Mandinka sentence the words “female representative”. Since the only other female in the committee was sitting next to me, I thought they were surely talking about her. So when he asked if I understood, I said, “Yeah, you were talking about her” and pointed to the lady sitting next to me.
He informed me that, no, they were actually talking about me. And although I had been there for only twenty minutes, understood nothing of what had gone on, and elongated the meeting by at least double, they had all agreed that they would like to invite me to be the Vice President Female Representative of the Nyakoi Sports Committee… what?!?!
Adding it to the resume. Now now.
We had our second meeting yesterday, and I told them that I had big plans for a Frisbee tournament. They all said, “What? Fresh beans?” So, hopefully, in a few months, the tiny West African country of The Gambia will see it’s first Fresh Beans tournament.
Wield Your Knife at School Day
So, it was the third day of school, and in our daily assembly, the teachers told all of the students to come to school the next day in their work clothes, and not in the normal uniform of blue and white. They also told them to bring all of the knives, cutlasses, and axes they could get their hands on. What kind of mayhem was planned for a large number of elementary-aged students and implements that could kill or maim? That’s right. We’ll clear the school grounds.
The next day, students came, as directed, wielding all of the large, sharp, and could-break-at-any-moment tools that they had. And to my surprise, they got to work. They removed as many weeds as they could, and all the girls swept the dirt school grounds (which I don’t think I’ll ever understand). Despite all of them having deadly weapons in hand, the student to teacher ratio probably hovering around 50-1, there were no serious problems. The usual wrestling, punching, and threatening still went on between students, but now with a potentially fatal twist.
While the day passed relatively uneventfully (students and teachers both called it a day around noon), I can’t help thinking what the equivalent would be in America, and what the outcry would be among the community.
Maybe a school wide hunt would be a comparable event in America? Can you imagine the note home to parents? “Please allow your child to bring all instruments of death to school tomorrow. We will need guns and large knives. There will be no instruction, save that in the valuable art of tracking and killing.”
The next day, students came, as directed, wielding all of the large, sharp, and could-break-at-any-moment tools that they had. And to my surprise, they got to work. They removed as many weeds as they could, and all the girls swept the dirt school grounds (which I don’t think I’ll ever understand). Despite all of them having deadly weapons in hand, the student to teacher ratio probably hovering around 50-1, there were no serious problems. The usual wrestling, punching, and threatening still went on between students, but now with a potentially fatal twist.
While the day passed relatively uneventfully (students and teachers both called it a day around noon), I can’t help thinking what the equivalent would be in America, and what the outcry would be among the community.
Maybe a school wide hunt would be a comparable event in America? Can you imagine the note home to parents? “Please allow your child to bring all instruments of death to school tomorrow. We will need guns and large knives. There will be no instruction, save that in the valuable art of tracking and killing.”
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