Three short stories, three different people

“For as the body without the spirit is dead, so faith without works is dead also.”

Note: This past weekend was filled with events including Thanksgiving, Peace Corps Gambia’s 40th Anniversary of uninterrupted service, and a very productive All Volunteer meeting. To get a good general view of what this entailed, check some of the Blog links to the right over the coming weeks (Or the master list, especially good reads will probably come from still energetic and chipper first year volunteers' Blogs).

I’ve mentioned before that there are times when it feels like I’m three different people. One person resembles how I was in the months leading up to departure, the other who I am as a member of my community, and lastly who I am in the bubble of Gambia PCVs. It’s rare to see the three of these combine into one greater whole, but hey if those evil construction Transformers could do it, why can’t any of us?


* One *

I have a buddy named Marc who my good friend Patrick (Hope all is well in Chicago...) introduced me to our last year of college. Marc was an exchange student from just outside of Munich and he always seemed up for seeing how far we could push American cultural norms. I remember one of his last nights before he returned home was one of those bitter cold winter nights that cries out for a warm log fire, hot chocolate, wool blankets, and the company of good friends. However, being college students, we were of course out getting drunk. For once we weren’t partaking in price to performance drinking consisting of guzzling trouble sold in square packs of 30 cans, we were instead being civilized and drinking in style. We were having a fine time at a “dress to impress” themed party and I think we had done rather well for ourselves in a solid set of suits made for far more important situations. As time wore on Marc began to feel like on his last night he should get out and see more, do more. He wanted to go out to the bars. But Bloomington bars are often filled with beer spilling, rude, undergrads dressed in anything from stuff that’s been sitting under the “to clean” pile for months to carbon copies of twenty-something magazine advertisements. We would stand out a bit in business suits. Unfortunately with the frigid temperatures it was too far to walk back and change, so Marc looked over at me and said, “Oh hell, let’s just go like this. We’ll have some fun with it and say that you just got out of a business dinner/interview for a German exchange program. You were accepted on the spot and we decided to just go celebrate right away.”

You know, that’s not such a bad idea I thought. Let’s do this thing after all, why not. I miss this sense of confidence towards the accidental and unplanned.


* Two *

Daboe and I were in the market the other day getting our clothes for Tobaski tailored. Tobaski is an important holiday in Gambia and the common practice is to get new clothes made and often families will get something made together so the whole family is wearing the same style clothing when they go to prayers.

Daboe and I had been bartering with the tailor who wanted us to have all our the measurements taken within the next couple of days otherwise he would become to busy with other work. Daboe and I realized that both of our schedules were going to be extremely busy and we had no time to bring the children, Amee (Age 7) and Buba (Age 2) to the tailor for measuring. I remembered that maybe there was a small portion of time when I was free and openly announced it thinking that maybe Daboe would be able to find time off work or know if Kaddy would be free to come with me. However, upon hearing my statement the tailor quickly said, “Oh well then great. Yaya at that time you will come with the two children and I can measure them then.”

Daboe and I gave a look to each other that for about a millisecond displayed a concession that this was our only choice in order to to get the clothes done. In the second millisecond our faces immediately switched to distinct looks of, “I know Yaya is integrated with the family but there is no way he’s going to be able to bring two children into the heart of a bustling urban market.” We held that glare for another second then Daboe looked back to the tailor and said, “We’re going to have to get back to you.”

These relationships and moments are what I like best about site.


*Three *

After our 40th Anniversary celebration the local brewing company agreed to host a small gathering for Peace Corps volunteers at their headquarters in the Kombo area. After 17 months in country Jul Brew tastes delicious but it might be better described to the reader back home with the description Jacob gave it on his trip to The Gambia. “Drinkable,” I think was the adjective he used. Jul Brew comes in a bottle that has a green color that for whatever reason reminds me of recycling. We were treated to two large refrigerators of recycling colored goodness hosted under a small patio area, filled with public park style tables, lit with fluorescent lights, and completed with music from a small portable speaker system connected to an iPod. There are small shrubs and bushes that surround the patio area and the factory is far enough away from the main road that you don’t hear too much highway traffic. I always got the feeling that the owner wanted it to at least somewhat resemble a small beer garden.

I miss people from my Education group and this was the last time I would see most of them until our Close of Service conference in May of 2008 (Shortly after which we will start to go home, one by one). I have a renewed sense of caring for these people and desire to strengthen friendships with them while we still have the chance. They became my focus for the evening, one in which many people were able to mingle and greet all, and for better or worse I held a mental checklist for my group specifically and tried to stick to just that small snippet of the great PCV population.

Somewhat brutally honest but our time and choices are limited. The pay off is that since group mates are most often the people one knows best, even small chats can bring you rather far in the relationship. I appreciate more and more the good people that they are and how close we’ve come.


* Transformers? *

For our 40th Anniversary Commemoration a few people in my region gathered to put together a theme for our outfits that we would wear to the event. Usually volunteers will do something like this for Peace Corps meetings but the designs will usually be more simple or traditional. But because this was the 40th Anniversary I think we all wanted to take it to that next level. A number of my site mates and I went to work and searched our market for something that would represent us as a region. We found a great blue fabric with forks and spoons scattered throughout, symbolizing not only our unquestionable cool factor but also that we don’t eat with our hands like the upcountry folk (Or as popular misconception might place on them). We all went to our respective tailors to turn the fabric into something great. I smiled and laughed for a long time when I decided to try and turn our burning blue fabric, accented with neon green forks and spoons, into an American style sports coat. In the end five of us showed up to our Anniversary decked out in some of the best outfits I’ve seen in my year and half here (No bias of course). There two classy professional business outfits and three incredible dresses that could probably even be used back home. Hopefully I’ll be able to track down some photos of the outfits soon.

This combination of people is what brings out the most happiness in my life.