food

Well it’s Sunday morning and I think that we must be beginning to get used to the heat, or maybe it’s a false impression for there is a breeze today, a welcome release from the relentless sun.  I hadn’t anticipated longing for the cold and being able to snuggle up under a duvet.

So far I’ve been to the bitiko to buy bread and eggs – there were none - swept the dust and mopped the floor, got the water from the tap in the compound, filled buckets and shower and I still don’t need a sleep.  Amazing.

Another week has passed in a haze of heat and dust.  Little work has been done, although between us Pete and I must have doubled the output of the entire office, making teaching aids, display work and continuing on library cleaning and sorting. We hope for an improvement tomorrow as the schools are open again but this could be a little optimistic.  However the good (?) news is that our motorbike licenses should be through which means that we will be able to leave the island and pass through the many police and military check points.  I’m filled with dread at the prospect of driving on the sand and stones.  The back wheel spins and slides all over the place and gripping with the knees is all there is between me and the ground.  Further more, there is the prospect of getting lost.  There is a lack of signs and the helpful advice given is ‘follow the tracks with the most tyre marks’.  Even those who have lived here for ever can’t find their way so what chance have I?

Several people have asked about a subject very dear to my heart.  Food.  To begin, in 35 – 40 degrees my desire for sustenance has lessened somewhat.  Ice-cold water is a pre-requisite of every hour, sadly not always possible.

Gambians have different eating times.  Breakfast is mid morning and consists, usually, of a rice dish fully flavoured with fishy bone.  Lunch can be any time from half two till five and is a rice dish with wozzly meat.  Supper is in the evening and is a rice dish with either bony dried fish or wozzly meat.  Not a lot of variation on a fairly narrow theme one might feel.

Foodbowl is an interesting concept.  Served in a large stainless steel bowl, it is a communal affair.  Groups of up to eight people, divided into male and female if the numbers are big enough, hunker down around the bowl.  Using only the right hand everyone eats from the section in front, sharing choice bits by throwing them to someone else.  As soon as one has finished eating it’s important to move wordlessly away – it’s considered rude to watch others. 

The Gambians are generous folk and share what little they have.  Pete and I have taken the cowards way out and are vegetarian again.  Fish bone and rice was more than I could stomach and it makes an easy excuse without causing offence, even if they don’t understand these weird ‘toubabs’. 

Shopping in the market is an experience, a friendly and time- consuming one.  It assaults the nose with smells of fish, meat and peanuts.  Vegetables are seasonal and in very short supply.  Aubergine and tomato time.  We must have thought of every way of cooking them that involves one hob and not using much gas. 

We wanted difference and challenge - here it is.