Gambian Wedding Photo Tour

Last week my host brother got married. Here's a few photos for how it all went. 

In the morning, the bride sits with her grandmother and younger siblings. She had to be guided around as she cannot see anything through her veil.

 The village elders gather to offer prayers for their marriage. 

After prayers, she is ushered inside this temporary room for some intensive hair and make-up while the rest of us chat and eat breakfast. 

Following breakfast (served around noon), the bride's ready and it's time for gifts. 

The night before, the party was centered in the bride's home compound. People visited and brought her gifts. Now it's time for the bride and her family to give away gifts to family and friends. 

Many of yesterdays gifts are given to the bride for the purpose of her giving more away. 

 Most of the gifts are fabric or wash buckets. 

Almost everyone receives something, myself included. The way the family system works, as my host-brother's wife, this bride is now considered my wife too. 

 When the gifts are all dispersed, my host father, the man sitting amongst all the women, offers words of thanks and prayers for blessings. Then the people go home, shower, and put on their asobees. In Gambian culture, families will buy matching fabric and get their clothing made out for special events. These are called asobees. 

Kristin and I got asobees with my whole family. Unfortunately no pictures with everyone.

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Once everyone's ready, the hired DJ begins to play music and everyone dances well into the night. Some weddings will do traditional drumming instead of a DJ.

Meanwhile the bride and groom (note matching asobees) roam about, greeting and taking pictures.

Photo shoot continues for several hours.

  The celebration continues late into the night with dancing and eating-I believe supper came after midnight but by that time, I was tuckered out and had gone to bed. Gambian celebrations wear me out!

Literacy-It's Important

Prior to coming here, I had not realized how much my daily life is affected by the fact that I am literate. Sure, I knew that if I was illiterate, I wouldn't be able to read intellectual books or books for pleasure. I knew I would not have written research papers about “Promoting Prosocial Behavior in Young Children” or “The Causes of the French Revolution” in college. But these things are only important because I am a teacher or because I live in the developed world, right? It’s not like the woman farming groundnut in Ngayen Sanjal would really see a change in her daily life if she could read, right?

Wrong. I didn't think about the ability to read the names of my contacts in my mobile phone. I didn't think about the ability to read over important documents from the health clinic or local government concerning identity papers. I didn't think about how often I write notes to other people or even to myself as a reminder. I recently watched 3 illiterate people divide responsibilities and money to prepare for a workshop. They couldn't just hand over a list with the prices budged down. Each individual had to remember exactly which items and how much of each to buy. It was a long list-not easy.

Obviously, literacy is a big deal, and it is a top priority for  Peace Corps The Gambia. To celebrate Worldwide Read-Aloud Day, I participated in a literacy bike trek. With three other volunteers, we biked to five schools in different villages to give a training on how reading aloud to students in a class can build their own reading skills. 

The bike-trek was successful and many teachers said they feel better equipped use books in classrooms to build literacy. But literacy is a high hurdle to jump. I spent 4 years studying in a university to get a reading endorsement with my teaching license. A day-long training is not going to eradicate illiteracy in The Gambia, but it can help. That's why I'm posted in a school for daily mentoring, co-teaching, and advising to teachers looking for more training on the subject. Still not over the hurdle, maybe, but closer.

Another thing that helps build literacy is a school-library. If you want children to be able to read, give them something to read. Unlike the developed world where we help our children learn by reading road signs, advertisements, and bedtime stories, my village has nothing to read. A few months ago, my school received a donation of books (about 10 boxes containing hundreds of books) to put in our school library. Upon my arrival, the school had a library, but it was in need of repair. The vast majority of the books were either destroyed by termites or entirely irrelevant (my favorite irrelevant books are a book of Irish Baby Names and Their Meanings and a Field Guide to the Birds of Great Britain-how these books got to West Africa I do not know). When the new shipment of books arrived, my headmaster decided that we could use an empty classroom as a temporary library while we wait for the repairs in the library to finish.

So I set to work color-coding the books based on reading level and topic. It took several days, but I’m happy to say that the library is now up and running and children are excitedly checking out books to read at home. The books are still not to the ideal level of cultural relevancy, but it's one step closer in the work to create a literate Gambia.

Board Books and Book Return Cartons

Fiction and Literature

My House

Welcome to My House 

Fuddan Feet

My host family had a wedding recently, and like all cultures, a wedding means everyone must be looking their best. Part of looking your best here means dying your feet, a process called fuddan here in Wolof. I went with Hincha, my host brother’s wife, to her mother, Yama, along with Mam Tutti, my other brother’s wife. Yama had already prepared for us by cutting tape into what must have been hundreds of thin strips.

Then Yama spent the next two hours taping my feet.

While doing the first foot, they realized they forgot a very important step, especially for the “toubob.” They forgot to apply something, I have no idea what it is, to my feet to keep them from sweating. This something comes from putting these hard crystal/rock things (again no idea what they are or where they come from) in water and rubbing the sticky solution that results onto my feet.

Y-C - Yamundow Ceesay, (my Gambian name)

After taping the feet, we applied another mixture that I know really nothing about. They mixed a powder with sugar and water until it had the consistency of thick mud. Then it was applied to my feet.

Then both feet were wrapped in extra fabric, and I put some socks on over the fabric and went to bed for the night.

Waking up at 4 am the next step was to rub off the first mixture, remove the tape, and apply another. This mixture smelled very bad, but again I don’t know what it is. Its purpose was to turn the color black, but it doesn't have the same effect on white skin as on black. We applied it to my feet, rewrapped them and went to bed for a few more hours.

Finally, the next morning, my feet were finished! I washed my feet and set out into the village for all to admire them. Of course, everyone questioned why it was orange, not black, but nonetheless, they were a big hit. I’ll be rocking my new feet for the next few weeks or so.

The final result