Wow. What a first week was that. An incredible load of observations, impressions and emotions, again far surpassing the available space to write about it. It was the first week of work at WFP and at the same time a week of trying to get to grips with the way things go around here in The Gambia.
Finally I managed to get an adequate accomodation, some 15km away from my working place in a quiet, clean and secure area not far away from the Atlantic coast. Seems as my neigbour is a 'very important person' from the government with police guarding the entire compound. At least I don't have to worry about security now. Palm trees are decorating the nearer surrounding with loads of dogs roaming the streets, like everywere else in this region. Many of them seem to have either a serious ear wound, from continuous fights, or other health problems and every time I see them I think about the trouble I went trough to get my rabies vaccine, but luckily they all seem to be very peaceful with people.
What left the deepest impressions on me this week? On sunday, whilst walking on the nearly empty beach I met an older man, desperately trying to sell self-made neckless to any white person he could spot, which is a painstaking job in the official off season. I was drinking juice with my colleague and he sat down in front of us (almost beggingly) trying to sell a piece. Warning him that his efforts are in vain as I was not interested (and not being a tourist) I neverteless engaged into a conversation to find out more about his life and occupation. An older man, with not more than four yellow crooked teeth, grey hair and a worned out traditional dress looked so tired and old as if he was 80 or so. To my surprise he was just 56, without school education, engaging in artisanal work since his childood and supporting a houseold of 6. Of course I felt pity at a point in time and I did finally buy the neckless for a few euros which meant much more to him. In fact, this proved to be an ideal ice-breaker and I asked him to tell me more about his life. After it came out he was Senegalese we turned to French and so I found out many more details about him, his struggles to earn some money by selling artisanal work in Senegal, Mauritania, Mali and now in The Gambia, for the past 40+ years. We also talked about the decreasing fish stocks in Senegalese waters, a subject of my previous thesis, and his efforts to get the children to school.
There is much more to be said about this encounter but it left me with a deep impression and made me think about the struggles some, or better most of the people in developing countries have to go trough to earn some income, only to sustain themselves on a daily basis. I am sure it was not te last time I've seen him as I promised to visit him sometime soon at his home. After this encounter I am now trying to engage occasionally in conversations with the locals, finding out more about them, only to realize time and again how vulnerable they are and how little we in the Western world know to appreciate what we have and what we take for granted. Example? I can not count the times electricity here broke down and as of yesterday evening we have again a breackdown in water supply. Yes, life here is not easy but these problems only seem to be trivial when compared wit the magnitude of problems that locals have to deal with. Anyways, on the weekend is the end of Ramadan and everybody is looking forward to a big feast. I am planning to buy a nice local dress later today as together with my colleague I will be visiting several local families who invited us to participate in the local celebrations. Who knows what new things we will learn then...