No big deal. I don’t need to watch the last half season of Chuck, the show about a nerd who gets all the CIA files ever written downloaded into his brain where he then ‘flashes’ through them when he sees a trigger, like a spy walking out a bathroom or something. He has a cute sister who was on Scrubs too. And why would I need to see the very last season of Scrubs anyway? I’ve only seen every single episode of the show, through the help of Comedy Central reruns. And who needs John Stewart and Colbert to entertain me every for that matter? I think I had only seen like 98% of the Colbert Report since it started so there should be no withdraw from that at all. It’s not like I’m dreaming of Jennifer Love Hewitt’s cleveland’s in Ghost Whisperer or anything. I swear she’s in a baby doll nightie through two thirds of that show. How they manage to get the plot into her house at night every single week I have no idea…I digress. I don’t even care what happens to the gang on LOST. I barely even pay attention when it’s on, who needs to see if Freckles gets her name cleared when coming back from the Island as is hinted in the episode where they are saved from the island but you don’t know it till the end. It’s not like I watched 8 hours of TV a day, 10 if something good was on, on my HD TV with Tivo so I could record all the episodes of 30 Rock, the best new show on TV and maybe the best period, you can catch half the season or more on NBC.com right now if you’re not caught up. Give it a try!
What I’m saying is, it doesn’t affect me at all. I’m not curled up in the fetal position on my bed longing to see what madcap, painfully embarrassing position Michael (Steve Carrell) will put the Office in this week. It’s not like I’ve been watching that show since it’s BBC incarnation or anything. My Name Is Earl? How about My Name Is I Don’t Care If Earl Gets Out Of Prison This Season or If I Find Out Why Crab Man Went Into The Witness Protection Program.
And who gives a crap that this is a record breaking year in the NFL, Just cause Farve is the best football player to play in my generation and he’s having a beauty of a season, and the Pats are undefeated and I’m in the finals of my fantasy league. It’s not like I loved spending all day with my laptop churning stats while I stared transfixed at the games like Bart sat glued to the TV in the episode where they steal cable and he sees his first pair of boobies on a late night movie channel, like I did. “Bart you shouldn’t watch that, that’s for mommies and daddies who love each other,” says Homer when he catches him frantically flipping to the farm report.
Oh, wait, there’s a writers Strike? God bless those unions and their commie agenda. Cool, hopefully it will last till about mid June.
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Monday, December 17, 2007
Food
Obviously I should start with the fish. The fish is so good here, caught hours before you buy it. They have Lady Fish, cousin to the Tarpon found in America, a thin, delicate white fish that is usually fried in a pan with an oil sauce. They use a lot of oil in Gambia. Then there is Butter Fish a small flounderesque shaped fish that is used pretty much interchangeably with Butter Fish as the two are cheaper fish compared to the wonderful Barracuda. A strong swimming big boy that has a tuna like texture, barracuda is so good. I like it with just a little lemon or like they make it at this one place called Sailors that fries them with a breading. I’m going to try smoking it in the near future. There will be more to come on fish as I plan to cook it often. Shrimp is also abundant here, we made it last week. We had to cut the heads off and peel them, then deturd them, and then wash and cook them. They were fantastic. Carolyn made a delicious oil and lemon sauce and we fried the shrimp with ham squeezings and oil, combined it with bits of ham, pasta and veggies and then her sauce. When we cook we always make really great food. I made French Tapalapa again and it was even better than before.
The main local food is Benachin, which you make with anything you have around cooked with rice and seasonings in a real big pan, about 2 to 3 feet in diameter over a fire. Fish heads, minced meat (ground beef) chicken, anything and everything. Then everybody just sits around and eats it right out of the pan. It’s really good. Then there is Chicken Yassa, Sometimes served as Fish Yassa. It’s an onion based sauce over grilled chicken. Yassa is my favorite local dish. Afra is meat on a stick that Carolyn likes however, I haven’t worked up the courage to eat it yet. There is some other local food but those are the main ones. And of course my Tapalapa from across the street.
Foreigners have brought a great deal of food along with them. There are Lebanese places and several high quality Indian places. As well as a pizza joint or two. Pretty much everything in the tourist areas serves the same stuff with their twists to it. Some places are much better than others. This being a tourist area for mostly the Gambia’s former colonial power, Great Britain, means everything is served with chips (French Fries (Freedom Fries)), which is nice because I wholly enjoy the fried potato. And of course there is the Traditional English Breakfast, so named because it is always the same; fried eggs, bacon (fried ham NOT bacon), sausage link, fried tomato, and baked beans. I had it in Manchester, on the plane and here last year. Hold the beans if you don’t mind, old boy.
Cheers
-BBB
The main local food is Benachin, which you make with anything you have around cooked with rice and seasonings in a real big pan, about 2 to 3 feet in diameter over a fire. Fish heads, minced meat (ground beef) chicken, anything and everything. Then everybody just sits around and eats it right out of the pan. It’s really good. Then there is Chicken Yassa, Sometimes served as Fish Yassa. It’s an onion based sauce over grilled chicken. Yassa is my favorite local dish. Afra is meat on a stick that Carolyn likes however, I haven’t worked up the courage to eat it yet. There is some other local food but those are the main ones. And of course my Tapalapa from across the street.
Foreigners have brought a great deal of food along with them. There are Lebanese places and several high quality Indian places. As well as a pizza joint or two. Pretty much everything in the tourist areas serves the same stuff with their twists to it. Some places are much better than others. This being a tourist area for mostly the Gambia’s former colonial power, Great Britain, means everything is served with chips (French Fries (Freedom Fries)), which is nice because I wholly enjoy the fried potato. And of course there is the Traditional English Breakfast, so named because it is always the same; fried eggs, bacon (fried ham NOT bacon), sausage link, fried tomato, and baked beans. I had it in Manchester, on the plane and here last year. Hold the beans if you don’t mind, old boy.
Cheers
-BBB
Disparity
I’ve decided I’m going to try to come to some understanding about the disparity between poor and rich. It’s confusing me to no end. There are desperately poor people here and there are people who are making plenty of money and living very well. There is not much of a middle class from what I understand. I’m pretty sure the middle class, if one really exists, lives much like the poor but with nicer clothes, better mobile phones, and cooler American thingamgigs. I’ve really only made some observations at this point but from other foreigners, like me, I have talked to they seem to be as confused as I am.
We live in a two-story apartment next to a main road, Garba Jumpa Road. However, in between the road and us is a tin shack, no kitchen, bathroom or sanitation to be found. They cook on wood burning stoves and they defecate in the corner, as best I can tell, near the water spicket and drain. It smells so bad it swoops in our windows during a certain breeze. I have to shut the windows or else I’ll want to retch. It’s a thin, filtered and diffused smell. It’s sweet with an under layer of shit, almost unnoticeable at first. After I breathe in heavy to try and figure out what I’m smelling that under layer hits me and it’s, ‘hello, Mr. ass balls!’
Just now a newish Isuzu Trooper 4-wheel drive just drove by on our side street. Right by outdoor bathroom and off to their, most likely, nice house. Probably with A/C. Down the street is an enterprise (business) that always has a BMW 315i with after market rims and paint that in the states would cost an easy four grand alone. And next to that is a C Class Mercedes, decked all the way out. As best as I can tell, it’s a travel agency. I have seen, as early as today, kids grabbing at used plastic forks and cups next to African men drinking Julbrew (local beer) and laughing. It’s not much different than most developing countries I suppose. Years ago I saw a little boy half naked in Mexico literally scrubbing out a cardboard McDonalds cup, shoeless in the middle of a dirt street, San Diego in the background. I just don’t see how so much enterprise can be going on with so much poverty at the same time, and so much indifference.
Today we went to a trade fair in the parking lot of the sports stadium. Most of what’s valuable in the Gambia was represented. LG had a big booth, Flat screens and dishwashers. Cutting edge products from a world leader in cutting edge crap. There was a booth with Nigerian pharmacists selling local, natural products for life. There was a packet of Man Power for low sperm count that had, ‘Lot of Sperm’ written on the side, amongst many others. That booth was very busy with locals. There were booths with local crafts, Muslim crafts, bottled water, and bucket supplies. Buckets are necessities in countries, like Gambia, where the water goes out all the time. (Today we have no water) We bought a new washing bucket for laundry today to replace the cracked tubs we had. There was a model home set up as well, very small, with five jet showerheads costing 5,600 dalasi ($300). Chamber of Commerce had a booth, as well as many other business groups. Lots of stuff was there. From motorcycles to fabric to the Port Authority, all was represented. It’s simply amazing to see the modern aspects of life juxtaposed with such subsistence living.
Speaking of which, I belong to The Fajara Club now. It’s a country club with a pool and tennis courts, oh yeah, and an 18 hole golf course. It’s pretty cheap to join but its members are overwhelmingly foreign like us. It reminds me of a movie about British colonialism that shows a British hunting club smack in the middle of a village, or a ‘civilized’ pub on the Congo River that’s built by and for the whites. I love the club, they actually have a shower and I love to swim during a hot day. Like I said, it’s hard to wrap my brain around the disparity here. I think I’ll play golf this week. We have such nice caddies at the club. Maybe I can meet someone there who wants to help me open my diamond mine. I jest, but just barely, because I feel like I could go either way. Like someone was saying, “when you have the means you get nice things for yourself.” No matter if your neighbor shits in pile in the corner of their yard.
In America the middle class represents the vast majority of the country, shrinking though it is. In Africa the poor represent an overwhelming majority which puts it right in your face, everywhere you look. So Perhaps a brand new Cadillac Sedan Deville driving down my road, like I saw last night, looks out of place where it might not look so while driving through Springfield, VA past the billiards and bar stool store. But right next to that store, where it’s not easy to see, is an apartment complex that is famous for immigrants living eight to an apartment situated well below the poverty line. So there it is, out of site; out of mind. Out in my face; all I can think about. I wonder for how long though. When will the poverty become so commonplace that I don’t think twice about it? I hope soon. (kidding) I do want to become desensitized to the shit smell though, like Carolyn has. That would be nice. I haven’t decided what I can do yet to help in even a small capacity. Aid programs have been shown to almost cause as much harm as they do good, becoming expected handouts and not addressing root causes or issues that Africa is in desperate need of. Plus aid workers are kinda assholes. Holier than thou dicks who rotate in for a few years and don’t see the long view of what they’re doing, which is tantamount to a band-aid on a bullet wound. But they do have foreign money and foreign 4X4’s and they’re out here doing something. And something has to be better than nothing, doesn’t it? But not right now, it’s time for a dip in the pool.
-BBB
We live in a two-story apartment next to a main road, Garba Jumpa Road. However, in between the road and us is a tin shack, no kitchen, bathroom or sanitation to be found. They cook on wood burning stoves and they defecate in the corner, as best I can tell, near the water spicket and drain. It smells so bad it swoops in our windows during a certain breeze. I have to shut the windows or else I’ll want to retch. It’s a thin, filtered and diffused smell. It’s sweet with an under layer of shit, almost unnoticeable at first. After I breathe in heavy to try and figure out what I’m smelling that under layer hits me and it’s, ‘hello, Mr. ass balls!’
Just now a newish Isuzu Trooper 4-wheel drive just drove by on our side street. Right by outdoor bathroom and off to their, most likely, nice house. Probably with A/C. Down the street is an enterprise (business) that always has a BMW 315i with after market rims and paint that in the states would cost an easy four grand alone. And next to that is a C Class Mercedes, decked all the way out. As best as I can tell, it’s a travel agency. I have seen, as early as today, kids grabbing at used plastic forks and cups next to African men drinking Julbrew (local beer) and laughing. It’s not much different than most developing countries I suppose. Years ago I saw a little boy half naked in Mexico literally scrubbing out a cardboard McDonalds cup, shoeless in the middle of a dirt street, San Diego in the background. I just don’t see how so much enterprise can be going on with so much poverty at the same time, and so much indifference.
Today we went to a trade fair in the parking lot of the sports stadium. Most of what’s valuable in the Gambia was represented. LG had a big booth, Flat screens and dishwashers. Cutting edge products from a world leader in cutting edge crap. There was a booth with Nigerian pharmacists selling local, natural products for life. There was a packet of Man Power for low sperm count that had, ‘Lot of Sperm’ written on the side, amongst many others. That booth was very busy with locals. There were booths with local crafts, Muslim crafts, bottled water, and bucket supplies. Buckets are necessities in countries, like Gambia, where the water goes out all the time. (Today we have no water) We bought a new washing bucket for laundry today to replace the cracked tubs we had. There was a model home set up as well, very small, with five jet showerheads costing 5,600 dalasi ($300). Chamber of Commerce had a booth, as well as many other business groups. Lots of stuff was there. From motorcycles to fabric to the Port Authority, all was represented. It’s simply amazing to see the modern aspects of life juxtaposed with such subsistence living.
Speaking of which, I belong to The Fajara Club now. It’s a country club with a pool and tennis courts, oh yeah, and an 18 hole golf course. It’s pretty cheap to join but its members are overwhelmingly foreign like us. It reminds me of a movie about British colonialism that shows a British hunting club smack in the middle of a village, or a ‘civilized’ pub on the Congo River that’s built by and for the whites. I love the club, they actually have a shower and I love to swim during a hot day. Like I said, it’s hard to wrap my brain around the disparity here. I think I’ll play golf this week. We have such nice caddies at the club. Maybe I can meet someone there who wants to help me open my diamond mine. I jest, but just barely, because I feel like I could go either way. Like someone was saying, “when you have the means you get nice things for yourself.” No matter if your neighbor shits in pile in the corner of their yard.
In America the middle class represents the vast majority of the country, shrinking though it is. In Africa the poor represent an overwhelming majority which puts it right in your face, everywhere you look. So Perhaps a brand new Cadillac Sedan Deville driving down my road, like I saw last night, looks out of place where it might not look so while driving through Springfield, VA past the billiards and bar stool store. But right next to that store, where it’s not easy to see, is an apartment complex that is famous for immigrants living eight to an apartment situated well below the poverty line. So there it is, out of site; out of mind. Out in my face; all I can think about. I wonder for how long though. When will the poverty become so commonplace that I don’t think twice about it? I hope soon. (kidding) I do want to become desensitized to the shit smell though, like Carolyn has. That would be nice. I haven’t decided what I can do yet to help in even a small capacity. Aid programs have been shown to almost cause as much harm as they do good, becoming expected handouts and not addressing root causes or issues that Africa is in desperate need of. Plus aid workers are kinda assholes. Holier than thou dicks who rotate in for a few years and don’t see the long view of what they’re doing, which is tantamount to a band-aid on a bullet wound. But they do have foreign money and foreign 4X4’s and they’re out here doing something. And something has to be better than nothing, doesn’t it? But not right now, it’s time for a dip in the pool.
-BBB
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
How We Get Around
There are buses and two types of taxis in The Gambia along with two different ways of taking the standard taxi. The standard taxi is yellow, generally a Mercedes, smells of ganja (weed) and the windows usually don’t have handles on them. You can have this taxi take you anywhere, within reason, on what is known as a Town Trip for 50 Dalasi (just over $2) for the whole car no matter how many passengers. Or you can pick up a cab already going in a certain direction and hop in with other passengers for 5 dalasi (25 cents) each. This way the taxi will pull over for passengers and pull over when asked. This is the one we use the most. I wave down a taxi it pulls over and if someone is already in it then I simply ask if they’re going the way I want to go, “Westfield?” If there is no one riding already you must ask them, “Westfield for 5 Dalasi?” to which he may reply, “No, only Town Trip.” or “Ok.” And then you say no thanks and keep looking or hop in. The town trip rides are nice at night coming home from dinner or when you have to go somewhere of the normal path of the four main roads around this area. (Not very often)
Taxis and buses will always go the same way from where you get in, so if you are in Serrekunda and ask for Bakau, the cab will always go down Kariba Avenue and turn right on Garba Jahumpa Road (our road) heading to Bakau. So you don’t have to give any further directions once inside.
The other day we paid 100 Dalasi for the taxi to take us to two grocery stores and to the fruit and vegetable market and then back home again. We were loaded down with groceries and water so the only way to do it in one big trip is to hire for and hour or so. That is negotiated with the driver at the time. He took us to the stores, which are across the road from each other, and waited. When we were done in one store we put our stuff in the back of the car and went in the other store, safe in the knowledge that he would not be driving off with our groceries or anything of the sort. I’m not sure yet if it’s a cultural thing, or a Muslim thing, or a tribal thing, or a combination of all, but people are honest here. Or maybe we haven’t been had yet but Carolyn has been here for over a year now and this is how it seems to be. There is, simply put, no car theft in this country and a group of big guys heading toward you at night will pass you and say, “Hi, happy couple. How’s your day?” Anyway, after the second store it was off to the market and then back home returning as the sky was getting dark so the driver stayed, with his lights on, long enough for us to get our gate door opened up.
The Tourist taxis are painted green and only do town trips for 3 to 6 times more than yellow cabs and only the tourists take them. They are only in the resort areas when looking for fares and are the only cabs allowed to service several of the resort strips. It’s said that they are nicer kept than the yellow cabs but I’ve never been in one.
Buses are Toyota minivans from the early 90’s. Remember those ones with the driver’s seat in front of the front tire, kinda look like VW vans? They fit 11 passengers a driver and a fare collector/pitch man. A skinny kid, always a skinny kid, sits in a make shift seat by the sliding door and yells out the window at people on the street letting them know where we are going. Today I hailed one (there are no bus stops, you just flag em down like a cab) and got the very last seat in the back row. The lady in front of me had to get out so I could get in and as I squeezed my huge American frame through this tiny van to the back left corner I slid my right butt cheek right across this nice young lady’s shoulder. I finally landed in my seat, patted her shoulder with my hand and told her I was sorry, to which she just smiled, laughed and said, “No problem.” Once I had my legs turned in front of me my knees were up to my chest and slammed into the next row in front of me. I couldn’t reach my hands into my pocket for the fare without some serious wrenching around.
We’re getting a car after Christmas, maybe before.
Taxis and buses will always go the same way from where you get in, so if you are in Serrekunda and ask for Bakau, the cab will always go down Kariba Avenue and turn right on Garba Jahumpa Road (our road) heading to Bakau. So you don’t have to give any further directions once inside.
The other day we paid 100 Dalasi for the taxi to take us to two grocery stores and to the fruit and vegetable market and then back home again. We were loaded down with groceries and water so the only way to do it in one big trip is to hire for and hour or so. That is negotiated with the driver at the time. He took us to the stores, which are across the road from each other, and waited. When we were done in one store we put our stuff in the back of the car and went in the other store, safe in the knowledge that he would not be driving off with our groceries or anything of the sort. I’m not sure yet if it’s a cultural thing, or a Muslim thing, or a tribal thing, or a combination of all, but people are honest here. Or maybe we haven’t been had yet but Carolyn has been here for over a year now and this is how it seems to be. There is, simply put, no car theft in this country and a group of big guys heading toward you at night will pass you and say, “Hi, happy couple. How’s your day?” Anyway, after the second store it was off to the market and then back home returning as the sky was getting dark so the driver stayed, with his lights on, long enough for us to get our gate door opened up.
The Tourist taxis are painted green and only do town trips for 3 to 6 times more than yellow cabs and only the tourists take them. They are only in the resort areas when looking for fares and are the only cabs allowed to service several of the resort strips. It’s said that they are nicer kept than the yellow cabs but I’ve never been in one.
Buses are Toyota minivans from the early 90’s. Remember those ones with the driver’s seat in front of the front tire, kinda look like VW vans? They fit 11 passengers a driver and a fare collector/pitch man. A skinny kid, always a skinny kid, sits in a make shift seat by the sliding door and yells out the window at people on the street letting them know where we are going. Today I hailed one (there are no bus stops, you just flag em down like a cab) and got the very last seat in the back row. The lady in front of me had to get out so I could get in and as I squeezed my huge American frame through this tiny van to the back left corner I slid my right butt cheek right across this nice young lady’s shoulder. I finally landed in my seat, patted her shoulder with my hand and told her I was sorry, to which she just smiled, laughed and said, “No problem.” Once I had my legs turned in front of me my knees were up to my chest and slammed into the next row in front of me. I couldn’t reach my hands into my pocket for the fare without some serious wrenching around.
We’re getting a car after Christmas, maybe before.
Tapalapa and My Corner Store
The local bread is called Tapalapa. It’s like a French loaf only shorter and thinner. It’s made fresh twice a day and delivered on bicycle to the shops around town. I don’t know how best to describe Tapalapa except to say it is the greatest bread of all the breads...ever. I make egg and cheese sandwiches every morning and this past Sunday I made French toast ala Tapalapa (as tapas) with butter, brown sugar and cinnamon - which I call Gambia Toast.
Shops in the neighborhoods are small shacks with a walk up counter which have some basics. The one I patronize is about 50 yards from our flat (apartment) and is run by a man named Lamarina. It is a steel can no more than 15 feet by 10 is painted totally blue and has the word 'Africell' stenciled on it, a national mobile (cellphone) carrier. Lamarina is always there, at least 16-18 hours a day. Each morning I wake up and walk over to get a fresh Tapalapa or two (D14 each) and a couple of fresh eggs (D5 each). I also get my cokes there. When you bring a bottle back to return it’s D8 each. A very small price to pay for something I love so much. But I will be weaning myself off Cokes because I love the juice here so much and I’m drinking tea now so my caffeine is covered. The Cokes here aren’t the really bad-for-you ones that we have in America. These are like the cokes before they switched to New Coke, and then back again. They have no High Fructose Corn Syrup, also known as, ‘the Devil’s syrup.’ So at least they’re a little bit better for me.
-BBB
Shops in the neighborhoods are small shacks with a walk up counter which have some basics. The one I patronize is about 50 yards from our flat (apartment) and is run by a man named Lamarina. It is a steel can no more than 15 feet by 10 is painted totally blue and has the word 'Africell' stenciled on it, a national mobile (cellphone) carrier. Lamarina is always there, at least 16-18 hours a day. Each morning I wake up and walk over to get a fresh Tapalapa or two (D14 each) and a couple of fresh eggs (D5 each). I also get my cokes there. When you bring a bottle back to return it’s D8 each. A very small price to pay for something I love so much. But I will be weaning myself off Cokes because I love the juice here so much and I’m drinking tea now so my caffeine is covered. The Cokes here aren’t the really bad-for-you ones that we have in America. These are like the cokes before they switched to New Coke, and then back again. They have no High Fructose Corn Syrup, also known as, ‘the Devil’s syrup.’ So at least they’re a little bit better for me.
-BBB
Hello Everyone
It’s now been over one week in Africa, Bakau New Town, The Gambia to be exact. Things are pretty much the same as last year when I visited for three weeks and I expect they’ll be pretty much the same after I’m gone as well. Things don’t change much and when they do it’s usually real slow. Unless there’s a coup of course, this is Africa after all.
First Impressions; Friendly people, yellow cabs, British Tourists, Lebanese merchants, thick grassy smoke (almost the same as lit sage) from burning trash; the same as last year. It’s been Africa at a glance so far, which will be ending as soon as I begin to dig deeper into this place. There are a lot of people here, the most densely populated area of Africa, very different from the endless Sahara that waits atop this region. Flying from the UK to here I passed over the western edge of the Sahara and from 32,000 feet up it did not stop in either direction till it hit the Atlantic and was sand right up to the beach. Gambia is lush comparably as the entire country is 30 miles north of, and 30 miles south of, The Gambia River. A dot on the map in West Africa surrounded by Senegal on all sides, save for the ocean.
We caught a bus from Westfield the other day at an intersection that looks like Africa in the movies. To use the parlance of large mass descriptive writing, it could best be described as, ‘a bustle.’ People everywhere lining up for buses, catching cabs, selling wares, begging, and running around doing their thing. In this melee I saw a guy wearing (I shit you not) a Chris Cooley Redskins jersey. I was wearing my Redskins t-shirt at the time, in memoriam, so I walked up to him and very excited said, “Hey, Redskins!” And did that fist to the heart tap thing I do when I’m saying, ‘DC Hardcore!” (You know the one) He looked at me like I was a freaking crazy person. It was hilarious. As we walked on Carolyn just laughed and laughed.
We bought a DVD in the street with 16 movies compressed onto one disc for 100 dalasi, about 5 bucks. We have every Harry Potter movie now. We’ve watched two so far. With one of those discs per week and we won’t need a TV [SHUDDER]
Hey! Ever had constipation with non-stop diarrhea at the same time? I have, welcome to Africa!
I’m going to start a new diet trend when I get home, Kavon I might need your help with the nutrition angle, but it will be called; Shit Yourself Thin! Along with another weight loss book coming soon entitled; The West Beach Malaria Diet. I have some interest from most of the major publishing houses. Stay Tuned!
-BBB
First Impressions; Friendly people, yellow cabs, British Tourists, Lebanese merchants, thick grassy smoke (almost the same as lit sage) from burning trash; the same as last year. It’s been Africa at a glance so far, which will be ending as soon as I begin to dig deeper into this place. There are a lot of people here, the most densely populated area of Africa, very different from the endless Sahara that waits atop this region. Flying from the UK to here I passed over the western edge of the Sahara and from 32,000 feet up it did not stop in either direction till it hit the Atlantic and was sand right up to the beach. Gambia is lush comparably as the entire country is 30 miles north of, and 30 miles south of, The Gambia River. A dot on the map in West Africa surrounded by Senegal on all sides, save for the ocean.
We caught a bus from Westfield the other day at an intersection that looks like Africa in the movies. To use the parlance of large mass descriptive writing, it could best be described as, ‘a bustle.’ People everywhere lining up for buses, catching cabs, selling wares, begging, and running around doing their thing. In this melee I saw a guy wearing (I shit you not) a Chris Cooley Redskins jersey. I was wearing my Redskins t-shirt at the time, in memoriam, so I walked up to him and very excited said, “Hey, Redskins!” And did that fist to the heart tap thing I do when I’m saying, ‘DC Hardcore!” (You know the one) He looked at me like I was a freaking crazy person. It was hilarious. As we walked on Carolyn just laughed and laughed.
We bought a DVD in the street with 16 movies compressed onto one disc for 100 dalasi, about 5 bucks. We have every Harry Potter movie now. We’ve watched two so far. With one of those discs per week and we won’t need a TV [SHUDDER]
Hey! Ever had constipation with non-stop diarrhea at the same time? I have, welcome to Africa!
I’m going to start a new diet trend when I get home, Kavon I might need your help with the nutrition angle, but it will be called; Shit Yourself Thin! Along with another weight loss book coming soon entitled; The West Beach Malaria Diet. I have some interest from most of the major publishing houses. Stay Tuned!
-BBB
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