Big Brother House

We have moved from luxury.  No more warm showers, (albethey hunt the drip), clean sheets, cold water from the fridge or meals cooked for us.  We have moved into the Big Brother house where we reside for the next three weeks.  There are seven of us, a varied brigade of middle class (but not Pete of course) companions aged between 60 and 29 who will get on.  

You can but imagine the scene as the bleach white gaggle of 'toubabs' saunter along the road somewhat bemused, trying to undertake the latest task.  The Gambians of all ages, sizes and both genders like to talk to us.  It’s mainly friendly banter, although there are the ‘bumsters’ who will follow and try to persuade you to part with your money, using a wide range of ingenious stories and ploys.  A quick bit of Mandinka and the mention of VSO and they soon leave us alone.  Our challenge is to decide between the two.

The house itself is much more spacious that I had imagined.  There are four rooms with two double beds. Dominated by the inevitable mosquito nets they sport some sort of wicker structure on which to suspend, place or display clothing and a huge amount of sandy dust. (Have I mentioned the sand before?)  We also have a huge living area with four tables and chairs and the kitchen.  Mmmm, the cooking area.  A sink, two ring gas stove, water filter, a fridge and enough microorganisms to build up our resistance for the next year.  We plan to cook in turns, which could be interesting as there is a wide variety of skills and interest in food.  Tonight I think it will be Canti, our resident Indian Canadian, who may stop laughing long enough to cook.  She looks after us all and is totally incredulous at many things we do, say, have or don’t have and then joins in with a merry smile.

So here we are, the seven of us, sitting in the living room undertaking various puzzles, books and card games looking somewhat bedraggled after the first nights sleep or non sleep for most of us.  The new noises are intense, the security guards radio, babies crying, scolded children, call to prayer and the ‘scrawny cockerel……..I’ll ring it’s neck’.  It’s only half seven and we await the opening of the shops to get breakfast, the wi fi cafe and to see what the new day will bring.