Wednesday 22 April – Day 30

There’s been no electricity or water for days in Abene and Dianna. I haven’t been able to connect to the internet as a result and have since been washing in well water, but still drinking bottled water. But it is expensive when you’re on a budget. I think my budget is only going to get tighter as the rate I’m being offered for exchanging pounds in Abene is lower than I expected. Apart from unsuccessful trips to the internet café, repeatedly finding they have no power and I can’t connect, I have spent every day this week so far trying to get my pounds changed to CFA. As I’m not happy with the exchange rate offered in shops in Abene, I have been chasing around for the Gambian taxi driver and money changing man. This has involved lots of cycling back and fro to Kafountine and asking people for his mobile phone numbers. After 3 days of this I am hoping he will come by my house this evening and hopefully will have enough CFA to change all my money. I am glad to be on budget, but if I don’t get 700CFA to the £ from him I’ll have to reduce my spends! Fingers crossed.

Now I’ve got the minutes finishes, and emailed of to Abene Karantaa trustees in London, I am thinking about compiling a report of the assessment to date, and making a detailed plan for the next 2 months as I am at a suitable juncture to begin the assessment in vigour. At this 30 day point I now feel much more settled in the village, here in rural West Africa. I have made friends here, plenty of local contacts, since moved to a new place and am feeling much more comfortable and feel estranged.

I’m sitting on a plastic garden chair to you and me, but a standard chair to many here, the alternative is the standard issue style sofa . It’s not been designed ergonomically and could benefit from some hefty cushions along the back. I’m at Yousoufa’s uncle’s home, where I have been charging up my mobile phone battery and rechargeable radio this week. He has lots of young people staying with him, as they attend schools here and don’t have schools in their villages I’m told. I’d be interested to find out where it is they have come from. They’ve very kindly given me lunch here too over the last few days and have adapted to my difficult eating requirements, of no fish or meat. Rice is plentiful, but vegetables seem to be a bit scarcer. I am told that children don’t get to eat the fish or meat (I don’t know about at this house, but it is an observation that has been relayed to me by a British friend I have made here).

The chickens and goats feast on the scraps of food they find in the pans and by the fire in the cooking area outdoors, while everyone sits on the veranda (outside again) round the big food bowls, rice in their hands, eating with their hands, quietly eating. Someone passes by on a bike, the elders in the eating groups (there are several bowls) say ‘Naa kontongolo’ or ‘Naa domoro la’, come and eat lunch, in Mandinka. As I write this I have a gaggle of kids standing beside me, looking at the screen and pointing to the computer. I don’t suppose they have ever used a computer before. I hope they will get the opportunity and that this valuable means of international communication won’t be shut off from them.

A possible solution to child malnutrition, an issue highlighted to me by the ‘doctor’ in Albadar on my recent visit to the village, is to provide free and nutritious meals once a day at school. I believe Unicef are funding this provision in the primary school in Abene. It is an interesting idea that I would like to look into more, as without proper nutrition people grow up under developed. Almost all the men I see here have incredibly small waists! All are certainly slim.

Had tasty palm oil poured over the rice again today. I’d never tried it before. It adds a nice flavour to the rice, slightly coconutty, in a nutty rather than sweet way. Yum. After lunch is eaten the chickens come and clean up the bits that have fallen on the ground. One came up to the bowl I was eating from, with Yousoufa, he’s finished and is back working on a faulty part on the 4x4 again. He’s a fully trained mechanic. This chicken over steps the mark and goes to stick his head in this bowl – Achaa! Shoo in Mandinka. I pass my bowl over to others who’re still eating, as I have seen Yousoufa do on another day when we had finished eating. There are a couple of small clumps of rice on the short wooden stool the bowl was raised off the floor on. I lean it in towards the nearest chicken who pecks off each clump in quick succession. Job done. All cleaned up. Very efficient. On the subject of chickens, Hawa (my British friend also known as Louise in the UK) has unofficially adopted Mork, the frail little chicken with dodgy eyes we thought we should really put out of it’s misery at the weekend. It is now Mork the pet chicken, who is making a remarkable recovery from his eye infections. He can now see food and loves rice and ground nuts (peanuts) or tiyoo in Mandinka. Mork really belongs to her neighbour, but he seems to prefer it in Hawa’s compound. The dividing fences are not enough to stop any animals getting through, so much to Hawa’s annoyance she has also had a herd of 10 cows led through her garden.