I spent nearly five months living and working in the country. I was a “Development Worker” with VSO Canada who had mixed feelings about my goals and presence.

I took on an IT teacher role, successfully educating thirty women about computers (women who had never used a keyboard or mouse previously), and I designed one of The Gambia’s main hospital’s web sites in order to help with funding.

My experience wasn’t easy. Being a white woman brought immediate attention, and it was impossible to blend in. The transportation was different, the food was different, the religion, the language, the smells, the houses, the animals, the social structure- everything was opposite than what I was used to. And on the days that I didn’t hate it, I loved it.

Though I’ll likely never do development work again (at least not in the IT field), I do not regret my decision to go to The Gambia. I have very strong views about Westerners in Developing Countries, and if you read through my diary, you will experience my highs and lows.

You can either start from the beginning of my journey or the end. The middle is what’s most interesting though.

For nearly half a year, I have built my life in West Africa. I have jobs, I have a house, I have friends (Gambian and non). I know how to speak their languages, drive in their bush taxis, shop in their markets. I know their villages, their roads, their customs.

I worked in The Gambia’s capital city, Banjul, which is a hectic and dirty place. Suddenly, I was sharing the roads with businessmen and sheep, goats, and chickens. I taught approximately thirty women about computers every morning, and in the afternoons, I built the country’s main hospital’s website http://rvth.dosh.gm.

I’m used to waking up to the sounds of roosters and falling asleep to the sounds of drumming. I can drink their water and not get sick, and my body says it’s cold at temperatures under 24 degrees C.

Tie dye has become beautiful, people carrying things on their heads, normal, being dirty all the time, natural.

I’ve lived through the Rainy Season, where it pours day-and-night, the Dry Season when it doesn’t rain at all. In the Rainy Season, the air is thick, in the Dry, your skin can dry and crack. I’ve felt the Harmattan, strong and hot.

I’ve become use to being stared at in the streets, and being called toubab, boss lady, nice lady… the list goes on.

I eat oranges sold out of a wheelbarrow on the street. I drink yogurt out of a bag. I eat bread that was handed to me wrapped in half a sheet of a foreign newspaper. I eat eggs that have never seen the inside of a refrigerator. I eat salt straight from the ocean that comes in clumps and is gray.

And if I want to, I can walk five minutes out my front door and see the ocean.

I live near baobab trees in flat rice fields. I’m surrounded by THE friendliest people I’ve ever met. I’ve become a master of small chat.

The pace is slow, the English is basic, but The Gambia is one of the most beautiful countries I have ever been to.

Mosques instead of churches; slow instead of fast; black instead of white; palm instead of pine; hot instead of cold; Mandinka and Wolof instead of French and English; right instead of wrong and also wrong instead of right.

When I signed up to VSO, I wanted an experience that would make me uncomfortable. I see too many people spending their lives in the same job, the same house, eating the same foods, watching the same television, with the same people… and I couldn’t think of a more boring way to exist. [Note- this lifestyle may make some people happy- I respect that- but it’s not the way that I would like to live.]

And so, when I was given my options of countries to go to (there were four in total), I decided on The Gambia because I thought it’d be the most difficult, the most challenging, and the most different.

It has proved to the different- so different, in fact, that when arriving, I hardly had any culture shock (the roads paved with shells, the lack of toilet paper and public bathrooms, they perhaps, effected me some).

And now…

The problem with leaving is… in all the places I’ve lived, I’ve always had to restart my life, and it’s usually been a challenge, BUT, picking up and moving to West Africa is on an entirely different level. Every single day was a challenge. I’ve worked SO hard to create my life here. I’ve learned how to teach, the language, the roads, about the religion, transportation, food, weather, people, customs, etiquette… and no one will ever know what it was like. I can write in this journal, I can post pictures online, but NOTHING really shows what my day-to-day life was like here. My friends, they know, but in a couple of days, I’ll be thousands of miles from them, and I’ll have no one around me who can comprehend one of the biggest experiences of my entire life.

I’ve felt sad about leaving places before, but this is totally different. It’s never been such a struggle just to exist before. I’ve had to adapt my mind and body to so many different things, I think I’ve only been able to identify a fraction of them… some I’ll notice when I’m thrust back into the place that we here deem “The Real World,” and some things I’ll probably never recognize.

It’s a weird feeling to be in such a strong limbo between wanting to go and wanting to stay. I’ve got baobab trees vs hot showers; heat vs cheese, mushrooms and tofu; ocean vs travel; these people vs my people.

I have been an outsider for five months. Someone who couldn’t be more obviously from somewhere outside of The Gambia. I look different, I talk different, I do different things with my spare time, I eat different foods. But I’ve also been Alimatou Bah. I’ve been told by many people, “You are a Gambian now.” I co-exist.

There are days when I do speak their languages, do the same things they do, eat their foods, walk their streets, live like a Gambian. And although I’ll never been on of them, I’ll do my best to embrace all that they are.

This was My Gambia.

I see now that what I had deemed “unimportant” isn’t, in fact, because it meant something to them.

The school where I teach had a going away party for me today. We sat around a table and ate sandwiches and talked, and then at the end, they handed me a present. In it was nice smelling soap, and my all-time-favorite African dress. One of my students handed me the wrapped present, and she was crying. Until that moment, I thought I faded into the background- that they actually didn’t care that I was there.

Most of all, I didn’t think they cared about the lessons I was teaching them. I’ve created a list of things they’ve learned in the time that I’ve been here, and it’s got at least 100 items that they’ve all managed to check off. Accomplishment. They’re so proud of themselves!

They went from students who couldn’t find certain keys on the keyboard, and have transformed themselves into people who know how to insert a table into Microsoft Word, and they’re even asking to learn how to make an email account before I leave.

I’m so proud of each one of them.

Today also marked the first day I’ve felt sad about leaving. Up until now, thoughts have been filled with me being excited to see my boyfriend again and to start a new stage in my life. I’ve become fed up with the nuisances that I experience in this country, and I’ve had a scowl on my face for the past two days. I’ve got 12 days left in this country, and I’m not sure that when I’ll leave I’ll feel 100% happy.

Again… the things I’ve taught these people HAVE meant something. I didn’t really see it before now, but it’s more clear than ever. I have touched their lives, what I’ve been teaching has been important, and I’m glad to have come to this country to teach computer skills.

The winds of the Harmattan have made the country cold and gray for the past two days. Temperatures usually hover around 35+ during the day, but lately it’s been closer to 25 degrees.

I felt it in the air. I knew it was the dry season, but I felt it.

It rained today!

Not hard, mind you, but this was the first time it’s rained in more than two months. I left the class I was teaching and stood outside. Precipitation!

Though, I’m sure I’ll be seeing enough rain and snow and wind and cold in 13 days, when I leave this tropical paradise of a country and travel around Europe.

It’s hard to believe my time here is nearly up. Next week is my last week of work, and I’m feeling great… it’s a beautiful place, but I’m glad to be leaving.

My Christmas vacation went by too quickly. When the weather doesn’t change, days are very apt to blend into the other.

Some highlights though.

Second hand clothes shopping in an inexpensive village. While we were shopping, we drew a crowd. I don’t think a lot of white people visit. I got a beautiful wool winter coat for a measly D70. That’s less than $3, folks. It’ll keep me warm and stylin when I leave here.

I had two of my favorite VSO friends stay with me for two weeks.

Charlotte:

and Angela:

We had a birthday party for a friend of ours, Lesley. Earlier in the day, we had woken her up with fruit and champagne. We pity the people who have birthdays around Christmas time.

A Christmas day sunset… hot dog, it was beautiful. And I fulfilled my dream of spending Christmas on the beach.

The moonrise:

We took another boat tour up the River Gambia, this time tempting fate with the crocs (or using ourselves as bait to try to get their attention), and sticking our feet in the river. It, unfortunately, was another waste of money, as I still didn’t get to see any crocs or hippos. But it was a nice relaxing time.

Angela has a Gambian boyfriend, for whom we all dressed up in my lone African dress and made fools of ourselves. Some of us were better balancing a bowl on our head than others. Hem, hem.

Char and I took a walk through a nature resort called Abuko, and saw a few different types of animals. Antelope, crocodiles, vultures, (and caged in were) sea turtles and hyenas, and free, wild monkeys:

(AND SO CLOSE! I almost peed myself, I was so excited).

For New Years, we went to a basic resort. It had running (sea) water, round huts with grass roofs, and it was very close to the ocean.

**

Soon time for me to leave West Africa, and I think what I’ll miss most is being able to see the ocean whenever I want to.

This entry is old. I wrote it on December 16th, but then had internet problems at work, then I had my Christmas vacation.

Better late than never.

**

Last week, my friend Geoff and I took a walk along the shores of our most visited beach. The red earth was stunning, especially with the contrasting colours of the sea.

And the palm trees, my god. I love them.

And us!

Let me just say one thing:

This is the most surreal holiday season of my life.

35 degree heat, palm trees, Africans and sand.

My friend Angela said to me yesterday, “you know, I really miss the Christmas season starting on October.” I totally agreed.

My “Development Work” entry was supposed to come in two parts, one day after the other- but there were problems with the electricity in the country last week, so I wasn’t able to update when I wanted to.

Part Two

This country needs to change. It needs our help. There is, however, a fine line between “good change” and “bad change.” Or maybe it’s that bad things usually accompany the good things.

This country would be SO much better off if the hospitals had enough supplies. If there were more doctors (Gambian raised and trained doctors would be wonderful, unfortunately if there are Gambian doctors, they usually leave the country so that they can make money), more people would live. If every person were able to afford a mosquito net, the occurrences of Malaria would significantly decrease.

If children could afford to go to school (school fees aren’t even that much (by Western standards), but not every family can afford it), that would help. If we could train teachers to teach students properly, people could be able to read and write a hundred times better.

If they had more wheelchairs, that would help. If they had welder’s masks so they wouldn’t go blind, that would help. If the hospital library had more books and other resources, that would help.

If they had more agriculture information and training, that would help.

There are so many things that this country could improve upon. I would LOVE it if we could assist them and not poison their lives with some of the evils of the Western World.

One of my jobs here is creating a web site for one of the country’s main hospitals. I’m extremely proud of having the opportunity to do this. It won’t necessarily assist inside the country, but I think it will help doctors become more informed about the hospital before coming to work here. Maybe they could even get donations!

It’s hard not to let the bad parts of the Western World filter through the when we come here to assist these countries.

Maybe I didn’t make myself clear in my previous entry. I DO love certain elements of my country, and other First World Countries. I love Canada’s health care system. I love paved roads and traffic lights. I love conveniences like hot water and air conditioning and clean streets and “equal rights” and cities having holiday decorations and… I could go on, but it just makes me homesick.

There are WONDERFUL things about living in First World Countries. But I’m not sure if we’re happier than the people living in this Third World Country. I see so many stupid things that we are obsessed with. I see so much ugliness when I remember things back home, I’m terrified that I’m not actually HELPING these people, but instead am harming them.

I know my impact here isn’t large. I’m happy with that. But I am teaching thirty people how to use a computers, and that knowledge has the power to transform other people’s lives in a BIG way. Maybe it won’t… maybe these people will never touch another computer after I leave. But MAYBE they’ll go on to work in an office and have free Internet access and learn about all sorts of things all over the world. It’ll be up to them if they want to change their lives with the knowledge that’s out there.

I do believe in the power of the Internet. I think it can be a wonderful tool.

But working here is like surfing the Internet. It doesn’t matter what thing you’re searching for, you’re eventually going to come across the ugly stuff. It doesn’t matter what I teach here, or how I live here, they’re eventually going to fall upon one of my Western faults.

And so? I have no conclusion other than the fact that I wish we were never here. Not because I don’t want them to have a voice, to improve on their lives… but everything I see outside of the city part of this country is mind-blowingly pure. It’s so natural, it’s so beautiful, and it nearly brings me to tears to see human beings so opposite of who we are in the West. I just wouldn’t want this part of the planet Earth to lose out on something that’s so primitive.

Maybe I’m wrong, maybe the West is best, but I sure hope not.

I knew that my last entry would cause some controversy.

That’s fine.

But the only response I got was a personal attack on myself- and I don’t think that’s fair. What’s also not fair is that I got an anonymous guestbook entry so I have no way to argue my point.

I was not grouping Canada and the United States into one country- I was grouping all First World Countries together. If you’ve been reading me at all (and it sounds like you have), you should know my feelings towards the mighty U.S of A.

1. It’s NOT impossible for me to contribute changing The Gambia into a country with similar attributes to a First World Country. VSO’s slogan is “Sharing Skills. Changing Lives.” I’m here to CHANGE people’s lives, “improve” them. If that’s not helping contribute to this, I’m not sure what is.

2. No, not all of you back home are McDonald’s eating, Vogue magazine reading, Martha Stewart wanna-bes. But SOME of you are. And I would LOVE to make sure that these Africans stay away from becoming like that.

There is so much pure, natural beauty here… and it’s also in Canada too- I never said it wasn’t (I love Canada, I wouldn’t want to permanently live anywhere else). But I don’t want The Gambia to have all of these ugly qualities that it very well could. Is that wrong??

3. The USA isn’t as different from Canada as we’d like to believe. Sorry. I wish it wasn’t true, but in my opinion, it is.

4. Power to you for staying home and living your life the way you want to. If you don’t want to travel, that’s more than okay with me. I have NEVER, EVER bashed ANYONE for not travelling. It’s just not something I feel compelled to do. The world is out there, why wouldn’t I travel it? I don’t think you’re ANY less of a person if you have different goals than I have. I’m afraid you’ve got me all wrong.

5. I’m not conceited, self righteous nor boastful. If you do believe any of those things, please then, stop reading my entries- I don’t force you to come here. I don’t post this journal for you.

Yes, I’ve travelled a bit. I am proud of that fact. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that- but I do not brag about it. It’s not the places I’ve been, but the lessons I’ve learned from being there. I don’t care that I’ve done “The Europe Thing,” nor that I’ve done “The Africa Thing.” Plenty of people have done it before me and will do it after me- I agree- but for me, it’s that I’VE done it. But I never mean to brag.

6. Thanks for the cheap shot on being in love. What’s up with that?

7. Yes, I’m in Africa. I’m living my life EXACTLY how I want to. And if you’re living yours exactly the way that you want to- I honestly couldn’t be more thrilled for you. But please, keep it out of my guestbook.