Pete's birthday

Yesterday, the 9th November, 55, I know it's hard to believe, and this was by birthday day. Awoke to presents, 2 mugs from fellow VSOs, home made flap jack from fellow VSO and a knock off DVD (Hell Boy, one of my favourites) from Hawa. Oh, and two packets of flying saucers and a card from Kath Owen in the UK and electronic birthday greetings from many friends at The Court School and at home – thank you all.


Work was meeting of local head teachers, 7 of them with myself and Mr.Leigh, Cluster Monitor who you should all know by now. The highlight was a stirring rendition of “Happy Birthday” which omitted all lyrics except those two words. Very moving, I wonder if anyone has had such a serenade before. The thing is they don't celebrate birthdays here, they know the year they were born and that's it. There is no general use of calendars, time is judged by the weather, rainy season, cool season etc. which is both charming and frustrating. Got back home, had a doze, as you do, and at 7pm set off for Bendulas, our local bar. WOW! They had laid tables with cloths, put out flowers and tied balloons, supplied by Hawa, from the trees. All lit by candlelight as there was a power cut it was a remarkable and moving scene. Greeted by Baks, my namesake and bar manager, I ordered 2 beers and said I understood they would not be cold because the power had been off all day. Not a bit of it, exclaiming that my happiness was his concern Baks miraculously produced cold beers all night – I have no idea how he managed this, what a man. Guests began to arrive, Phil, fellow VSO, Chris and Tara, volunteers with another charity and visiting the island for a week, colleagues from work and, wait for it...... The Chief of Police. I know not why or how since I have never met him before however Jibril, that being his name, was, of course, absolutely charming.


30 minutes later about a dozen of us by now were treated to an hour of drumming and singing arranged and paid for by the bar staff and colleagues from work. With countless mentions of my birthday and many wishes of more to come they drummed and danced furiously as only the Gambians know how. It is exhausting just watching. Inevitably I was coaxed up to dance, thankfully for all present the darkness hid my pathetic attempts to move in rhythm, a skill which has always eluded me. The show finished with a 20 minute singing of happy birthday in English, Spanish and French, I threw in Welsh just to be different and they immediately tried to repeat it – very surreal and one of those “where am I” moments when reality seems stranger than fiction. All of this took place whilst I was doing a very passable impression of Caerphilly's favourite son. For those of you now very puzzled let me inform you that Tommy Cooper, rubbish magician but genius comic was from Caerphilly and should you ever visit you will see his statue in the town centre. My likeness to said Tom was because I had decided to wear my best African clothes, in which I must say, I look very fetching. However as I was leaving the compound Mulai, my landlord, decided I needed a hat and so it was that Tommy Cooper was reborn. For those not old enough to know what I am talking about just find anyone over 40 and say “Tommy Cooper” they will smile, I promise they will, and probably say “just like that.” Go on try it and see.


And so the day came to a close, a memorable birthday for sure and I retired home for a final smoke and a glass of “Don Simon” a passable red wine that we can get on the island.


Happy, happy days. Where will we celebrate my 56th birthday – I wonder........