oh how the tables have turned

Dear friend,

It's been much too long since I last wrote, and for that I'm very sorry! A lot has been happening the past couple of weeks. The unbelievable thing is that suddenly -- or not so suddenly -- this elective has passed the point of feeling like an elective to feeling like... Life. My life. Here. It no longer feels like I've 'vacated' my actual life for a holiday, but that this is... It. I have a fruit and vege lady, catching up with her and her brother at their stand every couple days when I do my shopping; I have a money exchanger 'friend' who gives me the best rate in town regardless of what the Sterling is doing; I have a grocery store that is owned by Lebanese immigrants, and their lovely young security guard who always smiles this huge smile when I ask him about his day...

We have had a turnover of people at the place I'm living at as well, with three students leaving a couple weeks ago (in conjunction with the start of a new academic year back in the UK), and two amazing, kind, lovely girls arriving in their stead. I have truly loved getting to know this group of people, a real home away from Home. We cook together, hang out together, venture out together. How quickly it happens -- making a Life for yourself when thrown in to a new environment, an environment in which getting rooted felt, at times, a seemingly impossible thing to do. Thinking about my life back in New Zealand now feels so foreign and faraway, while The Gambia has become... Normality. The standard of measure. The expected. Comfortable. The everyday.

Oh, how the tables have turned! How far I've come since my first two weeks here when I sat in my room feeling sick as a dog, bargaining with God, pleading for Him to give me a way out.

It's beautiful here. It really is. Even the heat is beautiful. The rainy season is over and we are now heading into one of the hottest months of the year. And rather than fighting it, I am truly enjoying it for what it is, as much as I can, while I still can!

My work is going very well too. I have picked up another project after speaking to one of the doctors here who is currently doing her PhD. It is a clinical audit of prescribing practice in one of the field clinics she works at. It's exciting, and a great experience, putting together and conducting an audit from start to end. A nice little project for me to really sink my teeth into and claim ownership of. The other awesome thing about it is that the doctor I'm working with is from the UK, and it's been surprisingly nice working with her. Up until this point I have been working with either African-trained doctors (who have a very different approach), or scientists. There is something about her, in that, she seems to involve me more, to give me a bit more context and interacts with me in a way that is much more familiar. This audit in addition to my work in the lab has been keeping me steady busy, without being overwhelming, which is perfect.

I've been really working on my Wolof as well. I mentioned before I've been trying to learn one of the local languages, and Wolof is one of the mains ones in The Gambia. The past couple of weeks I've been making a serious effort to pick up more, and people here love it! They respond SO much to my willingness to learn, it's incredible what a difference it is making. The people I work with in the lab have taken me under their wing, as well as the people out in the field. And you can see how it brightens up their day, teaching me, and seeing me improve. Even when I get in a taxi or am at a shop or at the market, it changes the dynamics in an instant. I think when they see a foreigner they assume, 'Oh, here's just another foreigner.' Some will greet you to different degrees, yet that's about it. BUT, get in a taxi, go to a shop, see someone and say, 'As-salam alaykum' (= Arabic greeting, 'peace be upon you') and they are a bit taken aback -- in a really good way -- because they don't expect a foreigner to know to say that, and they'll reply 'Alaykum salam.' It totally breaks down the first (and biggest) barrier! Then they'll reply, as is normal for them, 'Nang'a'def?' (= how are you?). And if you know how to reply, or, even, if you ask them first, this huge smile comes on their faces! And if you can say even more than that (i.e. how's your morning been? what is your name? It is SO hot today!), they love it. Of course there is a limit to my Wolof, and at some point I have to say, with a sheepish smile, 'Sorry, that's all I know,' but even then they'll continue to talk to you in English. My goal has been to be able to carry on a full conversation in a taxi, and I'm getting very close! Last week I even got asked by one of the other passengers in the taxi how many YEARS I've lived here! LoL When I told them I've only been here five weeks, they were quite impressed I have to say. :) The ironic thing is that languages are definitely not normally my thing! I love English, and failed miserably at learning anything else, relying on my very limited conversational Korean to make me 'bi-lingual.' Ultimately though, speaking Wolof is very disarming -- the secret to getting into the hearts of the locals. So I continue to try and try. LoL

On the news front, I have also decided to sponsor the schooling of the daughter of our housekeeper. For the past six weeks I have gotten to know our housekeeper very well, probably since I have had relatively so much free time during the day! LoL She has been the housekeeper at the place I'm living in for 18years, and is a single mum supporting six children (age range from 23years to 5months). And she is very hard-working. However, the local wage here is 50 - 100 Dalais/day which, to put it in context, is £1.5 (=4.5NZD). When I first arrived and she hinted at her daughter needing a sponsor for schooling I have to admit I did see it with some degree of suspicion, especially because I have been warned of people asking for money etc. But she never outrightly asked me. And that's also why I waited to get to know her better. More recently, I was very touched when she shared with me some of her personal story. But what really helped me make my decision was how much she reminded me of my parents, in that her life has been about Sacrifice. Sacrificing their own life in a quest to give their children more; more than what they had, more than what they knew, more than the Here and Now. And it was a joy to tell her I would sponsor her daughter's education. It's not even a lot of money for us -- what I would easily spend without thinking twice on a dinner out each week. And yet that kind of money, for her, is completely unobtainable.

On Friday I went to the school with her and her daughter to have a look around, meet with the teacher and the Vice Principal, and sort out logistics on payment etc (they have a really reliable system, all done through the bank). The school has a beautiful campus (it's a German-run school), and is a lovely environment for studying, a real haven amidst the chaos of urban Africa. And I am happy. Her daughter, who is 14 years old, is lovely, and as the four of us (mum, daughter, me, teacher) were standing outside the school on our way home, she whispered something into the teacher's ear. The teacher -- a lovely Ghanaian man -- told me that she wanted to say to me -- but couldn't find the words to convey -- just how happy and grateful she was for this opportunity... for my help. It broke my heart, to think what is such a 'small' thing for me could mean so much to someone else... and how I almost tried to convince myself it wasn't worth doing. I've gotten to spend some time alone with her since, and have gotten to know her a bit better. I hope to be able to mentor her a bit before I leave too. She wants to become a nurse, which I really encouraged her to do. Her favourite subject is English (which I can totally relate to), and I've told her to work hard so that she can come visit me in New Zealand one day. :)

This week will be a week of good-byes, the biggest of which will be for one of the guys who has lived here for a year. Originally from Ethiopia, he will be going to the UK to do a PhD. He was the second person I met when I arrived here and he has quickly become the truest of friends. It will be so hard to see him leave. On Saturday night the small Ethiopian 'community' (= group of like five or six guys/men working here) arranged a farewell beach party to which we were invited. It was by far one of the coolest, most surreal experiences of my life. They drove us all to this secluded beach about an hour's drive away. When we arrived, I was completely blown away by the African night sky. I truly believe we are closer to the heavens here. The sun is bigger, the moon is bigger, and the galaxies feel within a moment's reach of your fingertips. The sheer vastness... was... majestic.

The guys bought everything needed for a bonfire barbecue, the group of us non-Ethiopians merely spectators, guests, in this private, intimate show. They lit a fire with sticks they bought with them tied up in string; used three concrete slabs around the fire to place the big round metal 'pan' on which was filled with goat meat and vegetables marinated Ethiopian style; they had a cooler filled with drinks and Jul-Brew; and they were the most lovely hosts, laughing away, swapping stories, having a blast, and making sure we were just as merry. At one point in the evening the group of guys -- mostly middle-aged men! -- started this traditional Ethiopian dance around the fire, chanting and singing and forgetting they were away from home. Then later on in the night a group of random locals joined us with their drums, with more dancing and singing, Gambian style.

It was an incredible night. One for the history books. A scene from the film that is my Life. And I will never forget it.

I will be so very sad to see my friend leave in two days time. And it only serves as a reminder that my time here is also quickly coming to an end. The grieving process has commenced, I think, with my very much being in Denial.


Yesterday our housekeeper showed me how to cook Chicken Yassa, the traditional Gambian dish. My friend who is leaving loves this dish and orders it all the time when we eat out, and so I really wanted to cook it for him. So I spent the day putting on my 'Housewife' hat, shopping, prepping and cooking the day away. And it was such a success. Despite fighting the slowness of work etc when I first arrived, I have come to see it as a blessing. I have come to see that this experience is not about medicine or work, but about truly taking a break and having one of those rare Life Experiences. One which has had such an impact on the person I am, the woman I am becoming, and the doctor I will be in six weeks time.

I sit here, typing away in a Lebanese cafe, drinking a cappuccino with Arabic music in the background; the searing heat giving way to a golden sunset; and I am taken aback that I am here... in West Africa... having the time of my life.

I will be sad to see my friend go.

I will be sad to see myself go, sad to leave my life here.

And what a Life it has turned out to be.

Always,
-A