The Programme

We sat, in pride of place, as a faceless tree stamped and stomped towards us, accompanied by the steady impatient rhythm of the beating drums. Soothing words from Omar “It’s okay Hawa, it’s just our tradition”, as I pull back from the sharp machete gliding towards my face. Gathering money on the blade, the Konkuran (man dressed as tree with shielded face and branches attached) moved with athletic agility, backflipping his way around the gathered crowd about 150 strong. This was our leaving programme.

In true Gambian style no one had thought to tell us in advance of our leaving party. After rearranging a few bits we donned our finest gear, Pete his Tobaski attire and me the most beautiful, elaborately embroidered outfit from Mulai and we hopped onto the motorbike and for the final time, rode across the bridge to a nearby school.


We arrived at the appointed time, always a mistake, to find chairs and desks being arranged in a semi circle and two lads balanced precariously up a tree, hacking at branches of the neme tree. Guided to two plastic garden seats we take our place whilst various dignitaries and children come to greet and shake hands. Chatter, laughter, but no beginning to the programme in sight I am dispatched with a young girl as guide to ‘find the women teachers’.


Arriving at the teachers quarters I am enveloped in a bare breasted huge bear hug amid exclamations of my beauty(!) and taken into the small dark room these two teachers call home. There is no room for anything more than a double bed all space being taken by scattered clothes and bottles of lotions and potions of various shapes and sizes. Fatou and the Eustace, or Qu’ranic teacher, are mid ‘bath’ and, thrusting the baby to me, continue to make preparations to go out. Ample bodies are smoothed with oils, hair conditioned, wigs brushed, new clothes squeezed into, high heels slipped on and we are ready to return to the school.

We are heralded by the drums and singing and dancing of the local women. Amazing. They are dressed in a strange array, possibly even fancy dress, including a hat decorated with Disney figures. Gambian dancing is like no other - bum out and fast foot stamping are the order of the day and yet there still remains a grace, an elegance. The inevitable and I did my 10 second turn, red faced and heart thumping, but it was enough to please my audience.

Following instructions Pete and I are ushered into the head teachers office where we are given outfits of matching materials as befits such occasions. Emotional photos ensue and I feel pulled between these wonderful people, sights and events and the longing to hug my children. Powerful stuff.