Tanka Tanka JournalA Story by Neville the following is a true account of the time I spent volunteering at the Tanka Tanka Psychiatric Hospital in the Gambia West Africa..... Jill
and Rebecca very kindly accompanied me to I
eventually arrived at the Passport
stamped and luggage scanned without any problem but was immediately pounced on
by taxi drivers and porters from every direction as soon as I had cleared
immigration. There
was no-one there to meet me as previously promised and I began to feel not only
very much alone but also quite isolated and vulnerable…. Anna,
whom I had never previously met, and my Dutch hostess for the duration,
eventually pitched up as agreed with NEVILLE scrawled boldly across a single
sheet of A4 paper. We
loaded the very and I do mean very badly beaten up 4x4 truck with my suitcase,
rucksack and my holdall and set off for the compound at Kerr Serrin, just off
the Senne Gambia Highway…. The
journey to the compound was undertaken in relative silence, neither of us it
seemed had much to say and I must admit, I felt rather tired. Anyway,
once at Kerr Serrin, I eventually managed to unpack and presented Anna with
roughly half of the supplies I had brought for Tanka Tanka. Anna and I
subsequently talked for what seemed like several hours until one after another,
several of her Dutch friends arrived and I found myself agreeing to tag along
for a meal at Freddy’s 777 Fast Food
Restaurant… We
all climbed into the old 4x4 and drove to the restaurant which was more like an
old shack with trestle tables out front. There were quite a few diners it
seemed and interestingly all of them were Dutch. Everyone except me ordered
fish and chips. I
asked if I could have my grilled fish with rice but was told with a huge smile “No
rice, sorry sorry” “Okay
no worries, just fish will be fine” I
smiled both hungrily and optimistically remembering just how good almost any
fish had tasted when I was last in The Gambia just over a year ago. “Ah,
I have finally arrived” I
thought to myself as I sat back in my chair and tried to eavesdrop on the
various conversations that were taking place all around me in Dutch. Imagine
for a moment pitch blackness except for one tired old 60 watt light bulb and
several candles burning on each of the trestle tables that made up the dining
area of Freddy’s 777 Fast Food Restaurant. Numerous
conversations were clearly in progress but I felt unable to engage and could not
understand more than just the occasional word that sounded remotely English. How
very rude, I remember thinking of my Dutch hostess and her fellow country folk,
how very rude indeed. My
fish eventually arrived surrounded by chips and a small portion of salad that
looked like it had seen better days. I
was a little disappointed to say the very least but the fish was cooked to absolute
perfection. I had two glasses of white wine and left my chips. At
some point in the predominantly Dutch conversation, I learnt that a female who
worked at Tanka Tanka had been badly assaulted by a male patient recently.
Apparently Pamela had lost four teeth and had also received a nasty wound to
her arm that required several stitches. Pamela was German. On our way back to
the compound, we visited Pamela to see how she was recovering from what sounded
like a very traumatic ordeal. Pamela’s
face was still very bruised and it turned out that she had required 14
stitches. 19.02.2014 I
am woken by a loud noise on my tin roof, it is 06.15 and the morning has
arrived far too quickly. There are lots of animal and bird sounds outside and I
have a bit of a belly ache. Not
sure what to expect later but hey, if I can get rid of my belly ache, I am up
for almost anything. No
hot water so have a wash and shave in the trickle of cold water from the tap. I
venture outside and seemed to be the only one awake, even the two guard dogs
Holly and Harry were still half asleep and did not seem to notice me as I made
my way to the old rustic bench beneath a sun bleached parasol and sat down. Water
from the solar powered fountain in the pond made a pleasant and cooling sound
which was very welcome. The compound began to shake off the night. Firstly the
chickens started going crazy and in the trees, bushes and patches of sky that
were visible, multi coloured, multi shaped and multi calling birds seemed to be
everywhere. The
sound of traffic could be heard somewhere in the distance but it was not
unpleasant or distracting. Bang,
what on earth was that? I immediately turned to where the sound seemed to come
from and noticed that a Hornbill had crashed into one of the windows of Anna’s
study come library come office. It was still there perched on the narrow sill
when I went to fetch my camera. I had never seen a hornbill in the flesh so to
speak before. It had flown off though by the time I returned. Oh well, maybe
next time… I distinctly
recall thinking that I might like earlyish mornings in the compound with no-one
else around and wondered what time Anna might show? Bird spotting was dead easy
all I needed was to reference each sighting against the pictures in Anna’s
‘Guide to the Birds of the I
began to compile a list of feathered sightings and for the first time since
departing began to relax a little. Bang, there she goes again, either the same
or another hornbill seemingly fascinated by its own reflection crashed into the
same window and then another. I was reminded of the 9/11 attack on the ‘Twin
Towers’ that occurred when I was lecturing to the 400 or so mostly
psychiatrists in the old Imperial Hotel on the sea front in Blackpool England….Anyway, enough of that… There
is still an early morning chill in the air but with the promise of some serious
sun later on. 07.45 and the boy/guard Demba arrived from out of nowhere. He
greeted me with a smile and then immediately began to sweep up fallen leaves
and other debris into little piles. Demba’s face seemed vaguely familiar and
then I remembered it belonged to the same young man who had previously
introduced me to his wife and their 7 day old baby who was sound asleep and
wrapped in a multi coloured shawl only minutes after stepping from Anna’s 4 x 4
on the day of my arrival. What
was most memorable about that brief meeting was that the baby in question had
the most delicately applied black painted eyebrows that made it look rather
comical and more like a doll than a real live baby. Yes,
my memory was okay after all. I began to remember that Anna had brought the
child across the compound to me and had explained that “He
was not one of the lucky ones” Apparently
his father Demba had HIV and the child had not been screened because his mother
was unaware of her husband’s status. Anna explained the young mother “Was
not lucky and neither was she much liked either by Anna and besides, her
presence always upset the dogs” By
08.00 it sounded to me as if the whole of the Two
cups of tea later, we board the old 4 x 4 and set off for Tanka Tanka. I did
not realise it was so far. Thirty minutes later we arrive at the gate and Anna
announces our presence by sounding the horn. The gate is opened by one of the
uniformed guards. One
hell of a culture shock was awaiting me I can tell you. I was subsequently
informed that there was something of a minor problem there being 107 patients for
100 beds which meant not enough food to go around. The
compound had an unpleasant feel to it, there seemed to be so many patients
milling around all in various stages of their individual psychosis or recovery,
mainly the former though. There were lots of guards but very few other staff it
seemed. The
only folk that spoke to me except for many of the patients were three Dutch
guys, Peter, Toon and I think Gert who were all volunteers nearing the end of
their placement. I was subsequently invited to join them clearing rocks from
the compound and dumping them outside the high walls. It seemed almost
inconceivable that such large and potentially lethal things had been allowed to
be there in the first place. It actually took the best part of a whole day to remove
most of them. In between countless wheel-barrow full’s we took turns watering
the vegetables in the garden. Later that first day I played ping-pong on the
full size table tennis table that the Dutch guys had built between them. I
spent a lot of time interacting with the patients which is what I promised
would be my main activity. It was also the first time in many years that I
encountered so much ‘clang association’
and ‘word salad’ which are both signs
of an underlying and often florid severe mental illness �" There was a lot of
religious delusions expressed that day and quite a lot of violence and
incontinence I recall….. I was
very quickly befriended by two young women one of whom has severe learning
difficulties, the other, I am not yet sure of because she does not speak at all.
Phew what a long day. Anna picks me up at around 17.00 and we return to the
compound. At
some point, I was told I had been invited for a meal with the Dutch contingent
and that Babba, the Matron would be present. Anna would not be attending though
and she indicated that she would be staying home. The
proposed meal was to be taken at a nearby compound where the Dutch appeared to
have been staying. It was a nice meal cooked by local women but the whole event
was very formal indeed and seemingly staged…. It
later transpired the entire evening was specifically designed so that the Dutch
contingent could provide feedback to Babba on their various experiences,
observations and thoughts about Tanka Tanka. It
was also their intention to formally hand over the volunteering reigns to
myself. I must admit I found the whole event quite intimidating and felt as
though I was being interviewed for a job I did not really want. The whole thing
was made so much worse because Babba the Matron had brought along two of his
male staff for moral support and to otherwise keep him company. I
made my excuse to leave early on the grounds that I had arranged to meet an old
friend Ebrima at the Hotel Jeliba where I had stayed last year. The walk took about half an hour and it was
dark even before I reached the hotel. Ebrima
found me at the bar where I was enjoying a glass of white wine bought for me by
two couples from Market Harborough England would you believe. It was good to
meet up with him again. He did not stay long though and it was a considerable
walk back to the compound….. Okay,
I don’t mind admitting it but after just 24 hours, I began to experience my
first feelings of home sickness. Day 2 Thursday 20th Feb I
am awake early again and wash and shave in cold water which I am now getting
used to. Anna gives me a plate of rice and a dollop of her Indonesian curry
with a fried egg for breakfast. I also had a cup of tea. One
of Anna’s female Dutch friends had stayed over and it seemed as though they
were planning their day together. I must confess to feeling a bit uncomfortable
so asked if I should get a taxi to Tanka Tanka rather than rely on Anna’s
hospitality? I
subsequently learnt that I would need two taxi’s to get there and a further two
to get back to the compound every day. Heck, I had not counted on that, nor had
I budgeted for it and felt a bit miffed I can tell you. That worked out at 32
Gambian Dalasi’s every working day spent on transport. Oh and that did not
include a trek of almost two miles along a dusty dirt track that no taxi driver
would even consider venturing up. I
consequently arrived at Tanka Tanka later than intended. Babba greeted me with
a big smile and a simple “hello.” Unfortunately, I did not recognise him immediately.
Big mistake maybe? Yeah,
big mistake Babba left within just a few minutes of his greeting me just
outside his office. There I was with just one female nurse oh and lots of armed
guards who were all very lazy and often blind when it came to dealing with
incidents. No-one
other than Paulina the State Enrolled Nurse spoke to me the whole day except of
course for two of the three Dutch volunteers and the patients, lots of em. Today
though, I witnessed several things I never wish to see again, ever. After the
patients had their breakfast, I distributed the two packets of cigarettes I
bought for them in less than a couple of minutes. After that, I vowed to buy
them two packs of twenty each day… After
my covert cigarette distribution, I spent much of the day helping to make a
concrete path and slope which was to serve as a step or a ramp which led to the
OT room. I also helped out in the garden. One guy next to me started to eat
several tomato plants from the earth. Everyone except for me, the hospital staff
and of course the guards seemed to be permanently hungry. Oh,
I just remembered, just before lunch which both looked and smelt awful and
which the patients had to queue for thirty minutes or so for. I started
teaching a group of young men a few words of Bulgarian…. One
of those guys had a remarkable memory and was able to repeat Kak se moy dobra
priatel I
can’t remember exactly when but at some point in the day I was invited to chew
a piece of a large purple nut/kernel by two patients who said it would make me
feel good. I accepted a small piece but declined to chew it on the grounds that
it looked decidedly purple and decidedly hallucinogenic. I was tempted though… That
was another long day. Oh, I decided to be clever and try to save money by
walking most of the way back to the compound but got lost and ended up having
to catch taxis after all. After
a quick wash and brush up, again in cold water I spent between 16.00 and 17.30
hours just walking up and down the Sol
helped me change £100 and then I went for a meal at 2 Rays Gourmet Restaurant
on my own. I had grilled Captain Fish and rice, Oh and a margarita which was a
special treat. Unfortunately the old guy who made our margarita’s last year no
longer worked there. It was still nice though. After
my supper, I walked back to the compound at Kerr Serrin only to find that Anna
had gone out with friends. I go to bed at 20.45 hours. No hot water and
mosquitoes arriving. I am not really looking forward to tomorrow. Just
remembered that I spent a lot of time earlier talking with Ousman one of the
patients who seemed quite perplexed by everything that was going on around him
and particularly preoccupied and frightened by his visions as he described them
of huge circling vultures overhead waiting to pick his bones clean. Well as far
as I am concerned my friend, and just between you and me, whenever I look
skyward there are always half a dozen or more of them big buggers eyeing us all
up, no kidding. Everyone
it seemed enjoyed their flake of the purple nut which I have since been told is
known as a colour nut. Hey, I just got out of bed to write that little snippet
down before it got lost in a corner somewhere of my mind, just in case you were
wondering. The
day breaks as usual, far too early and without feeling refreshed. Still no hot
water. Breakfast is small bowl of boiled rice “thank you Adama” and a cup of
tea. The trip to Tanka Tanka was not straightforward today and required me
catching a ‘Bush Cab’ which is like an old transit van, almost always battered
to hell and falling apart. Imagine that if you can and then fill it with
between 15 and 20 people of all ages, a menstruating goat, half a dozen
chickens and everyone’s dirty laundry and other personal effects, you might
just get some idea of the comfort these vehicles afford. I
arrive at Tanka Tanka early, just before 08.00 and once the breakfasts and
dressings are out of the way I spend a lot of time talking with a young lady
called Sona who seemed very articulate, insightful and otherwise plausible. Her
questions were always appropriate and her verbal responses gave no hint
whatsoever about her personal history. I was later told that she had tried to
kill her father’s second wife. There
would be no volleyball today as there was a ceremony arranged to say goodbye to
the Dutch contingent. Very touching it was too. Unfortunately, shy Peter
declined to attend and so his certificate of appreciation was picked up on his
behalf by someone else. As soon as the speeches had been completed, I decided
it was time to set off for the compound at Kerr Serrin and so walked back to
the highway. By the time I hit the highway I was feeling quite dehydrated
having only had a small portion of rice and a cup of tea with my breakfast. I
bought a small bottle of water for a rip off 20 Dalassi and began to feel
better. When
I eventually arrived back at Anna’s there was a small crowd of folk, mainly
Dutch milling around and admiring the new wooden table top that had been made
by the departing Dutch guys as a present for Anna. The two dogs Harry and Holly
no longer go crazy when I enter the compound which is such a relief I can tell
you. Later I walk to Uncle Noah’s restaurant and order rice and white fish with
black tea, very nice. I grab a glass of white wine on my way back to the
compound because Uncle Noah does not serve alcohol. Next
morning after a relatively poor nights sleep, I attend to all my personal
rituals before setting off for TT. Two taxi rides and a forty minute walk later
I reach Tanka Tanka. As far as I can see, today is probably going to be much
the same as yesterday was and what tomorrow is most likely going to be. The
very thought of this tends to piss me off just a little bit. It is at that
precise moment that I pledge to spend no less than 95% of my time engaged in
either 1-1 interaction or small group activities. Later,
around mid day I am instructed via a Support Worker to attend a ceremony to bid
farewell to my Dutch colleagues. I arrived late because I was asked to attend
to a rather disturbed young man who was obviously concerned about the swelling
in his groin. As
soon as the farewell ceremony was over I made my way to the When
I eventually arrived back at the compound, Anna asked me to buy two bottles of
dry white wine from the local store. Of course I jump at the chance of another
long footslog in order to remain in favour with mine host. On
returning to the compound and handing over the vino for refrigeration I retire
to bed and sleep for about an hour before being woken and invited to another
home cooked meal which consisted mainly of very large and exceedingly delicious
shrimps, pasta and rice… Yum yum, excellent indeed. Friday
21st February 2014 Awake
before Anna and her dogs again. Nothing to eat and am forced to wash in cold
water. I then set off for the No
mistakes this time and I manage to catch 2nd taxi without any
problem. Having caught it though, I was not sure whether it would drop me off
where I had hoped it would which required a lot of concentration on my part.
Maybe I need to explain my dilemma a bit more. Firstly, I had only one landmark
that gave a clue as to where I needed dropping off. If I missed that, I would
be in Sh… Creek for sure…I knew that no taxi driver in his right mind would
drop me off at Tanka Tanka’s huge metal front door. I
had already learnt that after two taxis’s a further 35 - 40 minute trek along a
very dusty, very long and very dry dirt road was required before even reaching
the secure black metal gates to Tanka Tanka hospital. On this occasion, I
arrived at those gates at 08.30hrs and was admitted by the guards without
question. I did get a salute from them though which was quite novel.. Not
long after my arrival I was summoned to attend the Matron Baba who asked me
lots of questions and wanted to know exactly what I could offer. At the time
and even on much reflection, I found his manner and style of questioning very
difficult to respond to. After
my interview or interrogation, I was eventually introduced to almost every
single member of staff including security, laundry and support staff on duty.
Oh’ and the OT & so called psychotherapist plus a visiting psychiatrist
from I
thought he was a rather pompous git who likely believed me to be a new white
patient. Little did he know though, Peter from Saturday 22nd February 2014 Awake
at 06.00 --- Dogs going mad at something on the roof. It is a monkey. I take a
photo because it seemed like the thing to do. Actually, there have been noises
throughout the night, many of which have been indistinct. Other noises though,
like the tribal drums have been relentless and rather disconcerting, needless
to state, I did not sleep too well despite my having wine with my evening meal.
Having photographed the monkey, and under the circumstances outlined, I decide
to return to my pit and have a lay in until 08.00hrs when I vacate said pit and
have a wash and shave all in cold water again I might add. I
am in the garden by just after 08.00hrs and set about bird watching. I spot
hornbills, sun birds and a hundred or more other multi coloured and multi
shaped species. Anna is presumably still in bed but the young guard Demba has
already arrived and begun cleaning the old 4 x 4. Within less than half an hour
Adama the housekeeper arrives and insists on making me a bowl of rice. There
is a very mild chill in the air and whilst sipping tea I find myself plagued by
biting flies. There
seems to be a set of very fixed routines here, those that are carried out every
day regardless of whether they actually need doing. For
example, the housemaid Adama dusts and polishes the tops and backs of chairs
and almost every other surface with her cloth. I
take time to reflect on what was essentially my first day of four months here…. Nothing
at all like I anticipated maybe worse, I am not sure. The staff, or at least
most of them appear to do very little except sit around. That may be a little
unfair because a couple always seem to be doing something. Their interactions
with the patients though always seem a bit cold and rather remote and whenever
I get within earshot of a conversation or a telling off, the language
invariably switches from English to Mandingo or one of the other African languages
everyone here seems fluent in. Very convenient for everyone except for me… I
bought two packs of 20 Marlborough cigarettes on the way to Tanka Tanka this
early morning for the patients because they have nothing and because I must
confess, it does feel very intimidating when a 6 foot something 25 year old Mandingo,
Wolof or a Fuller warrior asks you to do something specific for them in English
and then claims being unable to understand a word of any other language except
their tribal tongue. I
have rightly or wrongly promised to post several letters for patients here
including those addressed to ‘The Secretary of State’ or a family member for
example. I am also frequently asked for goods and favours of all kinds. Here
I am known by many names including Have
I already mentioned the violent outburst that occurred just outside It
is necessary to pause from writing as I witness maybe two dozen different
species of birds arriving to drink from Anna’s pool and to take pollen and
insects from the bushes and trees all around me. Some arrive silently from
nowhere it seems whilst others clatter and crash noisily through the leaves and
branches. I am sure I miss many such arrivals and departures. Oh’
well, back to the incident that is said to have occurred in Suddenly
the sun birds arrive like someone threw a handful of precious gems into a
rainbow. They alight onto the small branches and leaves without making a sound. Adama
the housemaid brings me a plate of rice and the sun birds are gone. At which
point I feel obliged to add that besides the contrasting beauty and harshness
of these surroundings there is also ugliness, death and decay. Take
for example, Anna’s fly trap hanging from a branch. It is overflowing with dead
and dying victims, each lured to their own demise by the scent of rotting prawn
and shrimp shells left over from a supper many evenings ago. Fantastic bait… I
also found a dead weaver bird and a large lizard, both killed that morning by
the smaller of Anna’s two guard dogs Holly. Dutch
Peter, ‘the shy one’ arrives at 09.00 hours to replace the old table top with
his new one and enlists my help. I am a little reluctant to begin with because
I feel lazy today and the task is far more complicated than I have thus far
made it sound. It also requires three of us to lift the table top, turn it over
and balance it on a wooden stool before finally drilling a sufficient number of
holes to secure it to the equally heavy metal base. “Drilling sounds easy
doesn’t it but hey, don’t kid yourself.” Feeding Time for the Fish Anna
lobbed a crust from her breakfast baguette into the pond and immediately the
surface was transformed into an orange and golden clockwise rotating swirl that
lasted for over an hour as the tiny fish fry enjoyed their own little treat. I
must emphasise here that I did not watch this little spectacle for that amount
of time because there was so many other things that needed to be done, at least
in Dutch Peters eyes. Okay,
table constructed and parasol re-erected now we start repairing the old chicken
house and all done whilst the chickens are at home. Let me describe the chicken
house to you. It is very big, big enough for a big man to stand up in and very
smelly indeed, all covered in layers of dust. That was my attempt at humour
because it certainly was extremely dusty both inside and all around the chicken
house. The
dogs, Harry and Holly are sleeping rather fretfully now with the sun directly
overhead. The flies bite away at their ears until they visibly bleed. Bang goes
another tube of antibiotic ointment. Some dogs here have ears nibbled down to
less than half the size they should be. Yep all down to those horrid ‘dog ear
biting flies’ that seem to be everywhere. Outside
the compound a small but very noisy festival passes by with children in masks
and wearing strange spirit and animal costumes. They beat their drums and shake
their bells creating such a red cloud of dust that has them engulfed and
disappearing from view long before the noise of them fades into the distance.
Now that would have made a splendid picture but I was unable to find either my
camera or my mobile phone. It
is mid day and the only sound now is that of the constantly chattering,
warbling and otherwise very noisy birds, the solar powered fountain and the
occasional clatter of steel upon steel from the local blacksmiths forge around
the corner. Anna
brings me another coffee. It is my first day off and I would like to hit the
beach but leaving early would be considered very bad manners. Oh’ one other
thing and I can hardly believe that I have left it till now, the ants are
everywhere. They are on tables, chairs, work surfaces etc. Yeah they are just
about everywhere. I imagine that by the time I leave this place I might have
conquered my near phobic, fear and contempt for the little and not so very
little creatures... An Observation As
you enter the compound from the dirt track one is immediately greeted by a wall
of green beyond the seating area beneath the pagoda and beyond that the
breakfast area and beyond that, the pond and garden stretching out either side
and into the distance like a tropical rain forest. I
am also consciously reminded of the peculiar and incongruent marriage of
opposites. As I look over my shoulder and see the already closed compound gates
and such an incredible array of discarded and deliberately positioned items
that form the unimaginable clutter, far too numerous to even attempt to create an
inventory. My
toilet flushes hooray. And believe me, it needs to. No soap or toilet paper and
I desperately need to find somewhere that sells them and other essential
supplies. I also need to buy envelopes and stamps for the several letters and
notes that patients have asked me to post for them… I
spend most of the day recovering from the chicken house repair ordeal and the
table manufacturing activities that Dutch Peter put me through. Both activities
were exhausting, in numerous ways unpleasant and as far as I am concerned,
unnecessary. Mid
afternoon I go to the beach with Anna but I might as well have gone with a shadow.
We did not talk the whole time. I did buy her the two soft drinks she asked for
though. Later on returning to the compound, Anna asked me to get red wine from what
she called Tesco’s. When I eventually returned, she was leaving in the 4 x 4
with her Dutch friends… Bugger, what is all that about? I
walk all the way back to the ‘Strip’ and order chicken yassa with rice. I drink
half a bottle of wine on my return having been offered cannabis twice and
propositioned four times by young women on the way back. I was asleep long
before Anna got home. ‘A Letter Home’ The following is an exact
copy of a letter I agreed to post for one of my patients at Tanka Tanka To Kumba Jaw The African Commission for Human and Peoples Rights The Sene To the right of the address a
heart with an arrow had been drawn. At Tanka Tanka
21:02:2014-06-01 Hi Kumba, I write to say how very much I miss you. As you know
already we have not been seeing each other for a long time and not even on the
“WORR”. This is why I scribble these few lines of mine to you. As known to you already, I’ve been on a long emotional
trip and am over taxed psychologically and over spent cognitive wise and even
permissible to say perceptually too bruised also. I’ve lost the rhythm of life and barely managing on an
existence level. I want to have my social confidence back. The surest way to do
that ‘HONEY’ is for Baby P to get something going on for him also. I will also need a personal A/E or personal savings
A/C at the “Standard Chartered Bank” --- It is pathetic to note that I have no pensions or any
funds. I lost work of prestige with the Central Bank after thirteen years and
no one is helping me. My people are greedy because they’re spending my $200,000
from Monica… Sillah stole D 650,000,000 from me and you. They told me in our
house. Already they’ve stolen the D 50,000,000 provident sum �" Also I am cash
strapped so Joho, I need your concerned attention and help. I’ll need a car and a house and a personal security
and a maid doubling as a cook. I need to pay for all these too. The house will
be our love nest. Oh’ what a love. You’re the joy of my life Kumba. A white man will post this letter for me (The white man of course was me). Keep the cheque book with you always because I will
meet you at the car park or laundry when I’m discharged next week. Probably Kalifka will come. Looking forward to hearing from you and seeing you
soon! Your Damde Babr P ‘Please Phone My Sister’ LEBIBE JALLOW I STAY IN I COME ACROSS Doctor MR.
NEVEL TO SPEAK TO HIM FOR
ASSISTANCE NAGIB BIN SOLOMON PHONE # 152 �" 523 �" 7797 WE MEET IN TANKA TANKS I AM SICK Monday
23rd February 2014 Just Another Day at Tanka Tanka Before
setting off for work I try my shower. Water comes out but it is neither hot nor
cold despite letting it run for ages. I decide it is bearable. Texts
from home are the best part of my day. One patient gave me two purple nuts
which he advised me to eat one tiny slither at a time which he peeled from the
kernel with a finger nail. He told me it was good. I declined but he insisted
on placing them in my palm. All those standing around me demanded a slice no
bigger than a nail clipping. Of course I gave as many as I could a sliver, how
could I refuse? And anyway, I immediately became ‘Mr. Even More Popular’ for a
while. At
that particular time, I had no idea what those brightly coloured kernels
contained but suspected some kind of happy juice at least, given that everyone
seemed to develop some kind of dance fever shortly after chewing on one. It was
obvious to me that none of the guards or hospital staff were ever offered any.
It would probably have been confiscated along with all the cheap plastic
cigarette lighters and other personal effects brought or smuggled in. As
I write these notes back at the compound, I still have my purple nut but now it
has turned almost jet black and is as hard as rock. No one would touch it now I
thought, but hey then again…. Everyone here, patients that is, are always
hungry and there is never enough food to adequately go around. There
were ten discharges today. I don’t know how many admissions as I rarely see any
one arrive. Often I am too busy, or they occur before or after I arrive for
duty. Unable
to find any toilet paper and I only have three sheets of old kitchen roll left
so have taken to tearing a single sheet into quarters. Today is Sunday and Anna
has gone on a river trip with all her Dutch friends, I walk to the hotel Jeleba
which is where Jill and I stayed last year when we first visited The Much
to my surprise, I meet up briefly with 5 Star who was the entertainments guy or
manager as he liked to be known. WE have a laugh and then I go for a swim in
the sea, then in the pool to wash the salt away and get sun burnt. I also have
a few nasty bites on my legs. No
English voices except for the broken English used by the departing Dutch
contingent since arriving. It would be very easy to let go and go mad here.
Phew, could I cope alone on a dessert island? Probably not. ‘Monday Morning’ No electric and still no hot
water so no cup of tea and no rice for breakfast. I
catch my two taxi’s as usual and walk the almost two miles to Tanka Tanka with
just a glass of water and my malaria tablet and glucosamine for breakfast. My
head is sun burnt from yesterday so I am wearing my I
stop by the roadside for a while, already covered in red dust and answer I
eventually arrive at Tanka Tanka which always sends a shiver through me. Oh
yes, when the big gates open up, it feels like being swallowed alive. The light
inside the dusty compound is blinding and some of the sights quite reminiscent
of the TV serial ‘The Walking Dead’ �" Dozens of ragged and dirty souls
wandering mostly aimlessly, or twirling under the sun or lying in a heap
covered in dust. Many spend the morning muttering to themselves or laughing
inanely. I
am spotted as soon as I pass the first guard and pounced upon by maybe two
dozen mainly men and boys but also by a young woman in her mid twenties who has
spent most of her life within these walls. She is the girl they all call
‘Tomorrow.’ Tomorrow has a significant learning disability and is prone to both
screaming and self harming if anything at all upsets her… ‘Tomorrow normally
greets me with a hug and is often around to see me off at the end of my shift…. Generally,
the first questions put to me each morning on arrival are almost always nonsense
or very personal ones. Now and then, someone will push through the bodies
desperate to get to me and enquire whether I had posted their letter off yet or
phoned their sister, brother, friend or someone. Others could be quite
demanding asking for a cigarette, money or food. I
try to introduce myself to the day staff who all appear to be sitting
comfortably in the shade. I try to strike up a conversation but soon give up in
frustration. The only friendly face being Paulina’s the general nurse who has
an interest in mental health. She agrees to help me organize a game of
volleyball after breakfast and medication. It
seems odd to me that the morning shift begins at 08.00hrs and the staff here
commence their own breakfast at around 09.00 hrs until 09.30 hrs. The patients
are required to wait for their breakfast until the staff are ready to dish up.
Often, breakfast consists of a stale bread roll or a bowl of very sweet
green/grey porridge and a plastic mug of the weakest tea imaginable. Not
everyone is lucky; sometimes the food runs out altogether. It
seems there were a few discharges yesterday after I left because last night
there was only 8 or 9 patients without a bed and our numbers are said to be
down to 98… I know at least one person did a runner because I saw him returned
to the compound by the police just after lunch time and given an injection. I
decide to go and water the vegetables but was beaten to the job by someone
else. I just can’t describe how disappointed I felt at this. I exchange a few
words with Nurse Paulina before setting off to help Dutch Maria undertake the
dressing round. Oh’ my many of the wounds we treated might never heal I thought
and there were so many of them too. Most were injuries to fingers, feet and
toes but also head wounds and the most awful of all, those to the face, back
and chest of a young Mandingo who they say tried to stab a guard. This
young fella obviously survived a very harrowing ordeal at the hands, feet and
presumably the truncheons of guards and police but he never spoke of his
experience. Many of his wounds were infected and I had to cut what was left of
the shirt from off his back with my Swiss army Knife and replaced it with an
old green one that I carried as a spare. I could hardly wait for the dressing
round to be over. Nothing sterile about our technique, I can assure you. Thank
heaven for latex gloves, iodine and wild honey. The
volleyball commenced as soon as I got to the pitch. Participants were
outnumbered by the spectators on this occasion and most of the players
consisted of male staff and guards so not exactly what I had hoped for. Dutch
Maria asked me what Matron Baba had asked me to prepare in terms of lesson
planning for the hospital staff and when exactly I would be delivering them? I
pointed out that I did not want to repeat anything that she herself had already
done. I think Dutch Marie was quite relieved to hear this but was also a little
annoyed with Baba for asking me to get involved with teaching in the first
place. I rounded off this conversation by explaining to Dutch Maria that I
intended to continue with some of the work started by my Dutch predecessors. Essentially
I was about to commit myself to a programme consisting largely of 1 �" 1 work,
occupational therapy sessions, creative expression, small group work, gardening
and physical activities such as ping pong, volley ball, basketball and
football. I would help out with wound dressing when needed and plan a few
formal teaching sessions for when Dutch Maria had left Tanka Tanka. I
got the chance of explaining my intentions to Matron Baba when he summoned both
Dutch Maria and me to his office later that morning and after my volleyball team
‘Tanka Tanka United’ panned his team ‘Tanka Tanka City’ and a whole hour and a
half before my early afternoon art group commenced. Wow,
did I hurt my back good and proper playing volleyball that day? Well yes as a
matter of fact, I did and to be precise, it was during one of my spectacular
forward dives that gained us a point before crashing back onto the sun-baked
earth that did it. According to Anna though who I did not know was watching, my
dive resembled either an accidental fall or an attempt to show off. Our
meeting with Baba came and it went. Nothing really remarkable or otherwise
memorable to report about our meeting on this occasion. I am not entirely sure
that he listens and rather think he demonstrates classic pressure of speech
because after the first few words or sentences, he looses me completely.
Thankfully, Dutch Maria confessed she thought it was only her that held such an
opinion. Apart
from the roles previously outlined, I agreed to make myself available for an
hours session each week which would be called ‘An Afternoon With Nev’ a kind of
spontaneous question and answer session that would not require me to get
involved with tedious lesson planning. At
the end of our shift Dutch Maria and I leave together and she shows me a
short-cut to the After
much discussion and my being quite impressed with her stuff and exchanging of
ideas, I agreed to get involved with devising a ‘Welcome Pack’ for future
volunteers and thereafter share our lesson plans etc…Maria subsequently
dismisses me and sends me about my way with a bottle of warm water to make my
journey home safer. She insisted that Anna’s compound was no more that thirty
minutes brisk walk away. Just under an hour later I made it back to Anna’s.
Evening meal consists of Fish Benachin but was a little disappointing. I spoke
briefly to Skinny and told him not to bully Ebrima. After
eating, I make my way back to the compound where Anna greets me warmly and we
talk about the day. I drink a glass of water before getting changed into fresh
clothes. There is still no electricity so set off for the Sene Gambia Strip
where I beg a couple of envelopes from Sol so as to address and post the
letters for my patients back at Tanka Tanka as promised. Sol agreed to obtain
stamps and post them for me. I give him sufficient money to cover the cost
before setting off for D’ Nubian Fresh Fish and Seafood Restaurant. At
the restaurant I choose butterfish and boiled rice. It is strange how little
food one actually needs, even after a full days vigorous activity. I can go a
whole day without anything but water and still don’t feel hungry until late
evening. When
I arrive back at the compound Anna is glued to her television. The dogs go mad
at me and I go to bed. ‘Tuesday 25th February 2014’ Guess
what? No hot water and still no electric, again…Breakfast consists of malaria
tablet, glucosamine and a glass of water. Dembe is already watering the garden
when I get up. I shave and wash in cold water, again. I
catch the first taxi no problem. The second caught me rather than me catching
it. It clipped my heel as it passed but some kind of sixth sense alerted me I
think, as I sensed something and spun with the contact. The driver stopped and
took me to my destination but still had the cheek to ask for an extra two
Dalassi…. I eventually
hit the dirt road at 07.50 hours and am not looking forward to the walk in the
slightest. My back is still hurting from yesterday’s volleyball and my sleep
had been disturbed last night because of the pain and the noise from the drums
which continued until early morning. My
mind suddenly goes into automatic overdrive. I think of my Dad and of Jill and
the kids and find myself laughing out loud. The word kids does not seem quite
the right term for a couple of young adults any more, at least not along this
old dirt track in the middle of nowhere. I
continue walking because I have to and begin to be more aware of mundane things
that I had failed to notice on previous occasions, like the huge termite
mountain that precisely marked the half way stage of my daily trek and the
donkey s**t drying in the sun and the broken down and rusting vehicles here and
there, each one of them the same colour
as the sand… As
I continue walking, I become increasingly more aware that I perhaps lack the
true ‘calling’ like Anna, Dutch Maria or any of the other Dutch volunteers who
all returned to 08.37
hrs I take a break from walking and sit on the steps of a part built and rather
large compound. It was then that it hit me. I need not worry about being late
or even if I fail to turn up at all one day. After all, I am a volunteer. I
also decide to test out this point of view and vow not to arrive at Tanka Tanka
until after 09.00 hrs just to see if anyone comments. I
subsequently try to kill time by writing up my journal for a bit. Slopping out
will be underway and then of course the staff will be having breakfast. My
conscience eventually got the better of me and I arrive at 08.55 hrs. Damn, I
arrived without my two packs of twenty cigarettes for the boys. It was not that
I forgot but rather nowhere was open en route. I vow always to buy them the
night before from now on. Hey
Just
remembered the taxi driver who passed me earlier as I sat on those steps
killing time, he was waving and laughing at me trying to summon up business. I
of course declined and watched him trundle off into the dusty distance. Oh’ how
I would have swapped places with that taxi driver right then, even if it meant
driving around in an oven all day. Despite
a little apprehension I think I feel a little more confident today if that
makes any sense at all. I am once more greeted inside the gates by maybe 25 or
30 patients all wanting cigarettes or favours. I spot Paulina with the
dressings bag and go to assist. There are many terrible wounds today weeping
and raw. Most it would seem inflicted by the police handcuffs prior to or
during admission. I felt particularly sorry for one young man who grit his
teeth while we cleaned the wounds on his back and applied fresh dressings. I
held his head and could feel his pain. He did not shed a single tear throughout
the procedure but cried out ‘oh God’ before quickly apologising to Paulina and
myself… another older man I feel sure will loose one or maybe two toes before
long. I
got something of a surprise when trying to pick what at first I believed to be
a length of bright purple cotton from one youngsters head only to discover when
he yelled out that this was one of five sutures that had been inserted to close
an old wound and had never been removed. As
soon as the dressing round was completed, I joined in the volleyball match which
I organized through a couple of staff and patients. I am no longer the
volleyball player that I once was to be sure. Within a few minutes Paulina and
two female patients join us on the pitch. That made 16 patients, 5 guards, 2
staff members and me, a volunteer. Everyone here plays to win but we generally
have a good laugh at the same time. I
forgot to bring a balloon in for Lamin number 12 and only remembered having
said I would when he approached me to advise he was soon to be discharged and
need not worry. I wished him well but felt very guilty for the rest of the day.
After volleyball, I joined the art group for a while. One of the participants
said he was an astrophysicist and asked when he might be allowed to eat. He
pointed out that all of the staff had already had their lunch. About
an hour later, everyone that queued up with their bowl was given two cupfuls of
porridge and sent on their way. One or two noticed that I was not partaking and
offered me some from their individual bowls. Mealtime
over and I quite forgot what exactly happened next until Baba asked me to join
him for another chat. I always feel like I am being interrogated when we
interact. He subsequently asks about my Community Mental Health Team (CMHT)
experience, presumably because he had recently re-visited my CV or because
something was niggling him. I answered all his CMHT and associated questions as
best I could given the way in which each was put to me. He then asked if I was
prepared to stay on for an extra couple of hours and work the afternoon and
evening shift? I
pointed out that I had already stayed on for an hour longer than I had
originally intended and declined. I subsequently collected my duffle bag from
the cupboard in the OT room and set off for Anna’s compound and my temporary
home in Kerr Serrin. On
leaving Tanka Tanka, I had never in my life felt so very hot. There was no air
and no breeze whatsoever and every step was both painful and laborious. I very
nearly reach the highway when the horn from a big blue truck stopped me mid
stride. It was Anna who immediately told me off for leaving without breakfast
or saying goodbye earlier that morning. Anna
was actually on her way to Tanka Tanka with four old pushbikes strapped to the
roof that had been donated to hospital staff by my Dutch predecessors. Anna
insisted that I hopped on board and escorted her back to Tanka Tanka after
which she said she would give me a lift back home. I subsequently felt obliged
to do as I was told and once back at the hospital helped to heave each of the
bicycles off the roof and hand them over to the eagerly awaiting staff members. On
the return journey, Anna asked if I would mind her collecting her flight tickets
back to Flight
tickets obtained and we eventually set off for the compound. On arrival, Anna
insisted that I consume the Indonesian chicken curry and boiled rice that had
been intended for my breakfast. It was, I must admit truly delicious. Oh’
almost forgot, ‘balloon boy helped me to get the bikes off the truck and
indicated that his discharge had not gone according to plan. Having completed
my unexpected meal, I walked to the Sene Gambia Strip and get propositioned
twice on the way. Sol
takes another letter for posting and because I had set my heart on it rather
than being particularly hungry, I take a light meal at D’ Nubian Restaurant and
the lady owner gives me 20% discount for being a loyal customer. On
the walk back to the compound, I hand out bits for the children along the
roadside. Most of the goodies were donated by Hazel one of my patients back
home at Maple Access and I take a couple of photos for her. Hazel
incidentally is an absolutely amazing woman and needs to be mentioned here. Her
generosity and genuineness may never make the headlines but I guess she would
not want it any other way. On the way home, I worry that one of those little
kids will choke on something I gave them to enjoy… I
stop and spend some time talking with a woman in a wheelchair who was badly
disfigured and otherwise impaired possibly by thalidomide or some other drug I
guess. Despite her circumstances, she insisted that I was a good friend and was
all smiles throughout our interaction. She also said she would pray for me. I
certainly hope she does. Anna
is out when I arrive back at the compound, supper at the 777 I imagine with
Dutch Maria and her daughters who I am told are visiting from There
you go phew; I have just remembered what I had forgotten earlier…. One
of those ‘light dementia moments’ that Anna refers to so very often. At the
time I was being introduced to Dutch Marias x2 daughter’s whilst simultaneously
appraising a patients painting of a house, monkey and an aeroplane during the
art group I had set up… Oh
I ache all over from volleyball and the near miss with the taxi earlier today.
My back and just about everything else all ache so bad that I take x3 ibuprofen
tablets and hope to sleep well tonight. I
retire feeling very mucky as still no hot water to bathe or wash in but at
least the solar powered electric has kicked in and I have x1 small light bulb
to read by. The
stars are incredible tonight and I must seriously confess African skies are out
of this world. It is such a shame I need to go to sleep and I am not looking
forward to tomorrow. I drift off amid the sound of party drums not too far away
and the idea of trying to find an excuse for not attending Church on Sunday
with Paulina the nurse from Tanka Tanka. I
am beginning to feel miserable again and seem to do little else but work and
walk. In spite of this and my poor appetite I think I might be gaining weight
again. How can that be? Everything here is cooked in palm oil, fried or boiled.
That is the answer then, at least it is according to my patient Nuah but then
it was him that insisted if I do x10 press-ups and x10 stomach crunches every
day like him, I would not only grow another x6 inches in height but loose
weight as well. For
a moment I consider giving it a try, only for a moment mind you… I
try to settle down in bed and ignore the sound of drums and occasional truck
passing on the highway. It is far too hot to settle despite being dark outside
and far to hot for the dogs to notice or care about who enters the compound. I
lock my door just to be on the safe side and arrive at the conclusion that I
have something of a love hate relationship with Wednesday
26th Feb 2014 Another
long walk to TT but with a good breeze behind me and I start the day working
alongside Pamela on her first day back. I started by helping her in the garden
weeding. Everything seemed okay and she gave me a radish fresh from the soil
black with filth but since she ate one herself I followed suite. That radish
tasted fantastic, it was hot and reminded me of tea time back in England circa
1970’s when my mum would make one of her salads…. Later,
I organise another volleyball match which incidentally was not my original
intention. Originally I wanted to play football or basket ball for a change but
it was nevertheless good fun. This
morning, the staff again had their breakfasts before the patients. The patients
queue anxiously except for those that refuse to eat due to their psychotic belief
that they are being fattened up for eventual consumption or slaughter, or those
who were too sedated to be aware it was breakfast time to bother. Breakfast
today is bread and a mug of insipid tea. A
young female patient ‘Sona’ initiates a conversation and informs me that during
her admission, she was beaten physically and raped by x4 staff members. Our
conversation ended abruptly when she asked whether I understood the meaning of
retribution… What
happened next came out of the blue when I entered the OT room where Pamela was
busy engaged it seemed, colouring a page in a child’s picture book. Just
picture this, I sat down and asked what happens once the paper and other art
material run out? I also enquired who replaces the supplies. Kerbammmm…. What happened
was over the top to say the very least… Pamela obviously misinterpreted what I
had asked because she immediately turned into an agitated, angry and accusatory
woman that I felt was totally beyond pacifying… She
said something like… “It is not the materials or supply that is the problem but
the patients who are most important”… I nodded in amazement but Autistic Pamela
just seemed to go off on one… She insisted on knowing what I was doing in her
art group… I indicated that I had been facilitating the art group for the last
month or so whilst she had been off injured…. She then went totally ballistic
and insisted that she draw up a programme and a time table of my activities.
Her hastily drafted programme had me involved in ball games and sporting activities.
I argued that it would be impossible for anyone to spend the whole day playing
physical activities and pointed out that I wanted to help out in the garden
before the ball games began…. That
idea went down like a lead balloon. She continued to rant flapping her arms up
and down and shaking her head from side to side as though she was trying to
take off. I began to feel rather uncomfortable and just a little angry. At that
precise moment, the very big and as far as I had always observed OT (Gambian
woman) seemed to delight in joining in… She stated that she did a lot of tie
and dye and batik artwork and visitors and the community made donations of
material…. Then
I said something that set her off as well… The lazy Gambian carpenter obviously
enjoyed seeing Toobab being set upon by two irate women…. Oh,
I must mention something very important here… The table tennis table made out
of very very heavy timber by the Dutch guys was noticed to be broken quite
badly. At the time I presumed it must have been dropped or tipped over which
was a terrible shame indeed. My
impression was that it is not only the patients here that are a bit on the
paranoid side…I could have very easily have walked out at that moment. Instead
though I go outside and strike up a conversation with three young men in the
shade. The sun is now directly overhead
and only a handful of patients except those with whom I am having a
conversation are laying out in the open, and fully exposed to its glare. Each
one is very dusty and quite motionless. I worry about each of them and try to
encourage each to crawl into the shade but they each refuse to be moved or to
move… Baba
arrives --- It is 13.45 hrs and he seeks me out for a little chat. I leave the
compound around 16.30 hrs and set off down the dirt track before catching my
first taxi back to Ker Serrin. I am sure that I have missed so much out but
will scribble anything down as soon as it comes back to me. It
is a long hot dirty walk and a long hot dirty x2 taxi rides later before I arrive
back. Anna is at the beach when I arrive and I am still a bit cross. I
contemplate taking a couple of days off sick just to help get me through. I
just don’t know what everyone expects of me at all…. At least with the patients
I know it is usually cigarettes, food or Dalassi. I
think my own use of English has begun to suffer a little probably as a
consequence of all the Dutch interactions I have been having recently and by
the way, did I mention before I set off for TT earlier this morning I filled a
plastic bag with yesterday’s boiled rice. It was my intention to make it look
as though I had eaten most of it. Yeah,
the African equivalent of the Bulgarian banitza, I hoped that both Anna and
Adama would think I went to work on a full belly. I tried to make the whole
thing look as convincing as possible by leaving a dirty plate and spoon smeared
with a little of my hot sauce for good effect on the side. There, you see I
knew things would come back to me. Have
I ever mentioned Swiss Peter, the only white patient here? Swiss Peter as you
can probably imagine tended to stand out from the crowd some. He stood well
over six feet tall with long bleached and greying hair. He claimed to be 48 but
looks much older. Swiss Peter is quite psychotic but does have some remarkably
lucid moments. He explained to me that he had been at TT for the last ten
months and was waiting to be deported back to his home country. He also
informed me that he had five children, three in Sitting at D’Nubian Having
taken time to reflect on the day, I think it was a good idea to explain to Anna
some of my earlier frustrations before she heard someone else’s version. Anna
reassured me that other visitors had encountered a similar reaction from
Autistic Pamela. I
had my first shower this evening if you could call a cool trickle of water a
shower. It took absolutely ages to get rid of the suds from my Lynx body wash
but at least I feel a little fresher. Anna
was livid when I told her about the table tennis table, and I leave her
swearing in Dutch as I make my way to D’Nubian Seafood Restaurant. The walk
there is getting easier and was actually quite pleasant. Not much in the way of
hassle. I
enjoy the most amazing seafood pasta. On My way back to the compound at Ker
Serrin I find myself hoping that tomorrow will be better than today… I am in
bed by 21.00 hrs and I presume Anna is eating out at 777 the fast food joint… I
doubt that I am able to offer anything like what the Dutch contingent have done
during their stay and I understand they left yesterday. They had been
remarkably practical, quite wealthy I suspect and very determined to make a
difference but boy did they sulk when they wanted to. At
the moment, I am not really sure what I can contribute in real terms other than
spending 1 to 1 time with as many patients as possible. I subsequently compile
a list of things that might take place in 1-1 interactions … See list But
I am not even sure such interventions are really appreciated. Anna insists that
many of the staff just want to get out of the country and have an easy life
somewhere. Bleed them dry she says and blow them away. A very negative but
probably a very true perspective nevertheless. For a while I don’t remember
what I am good at but it suddenly dawns on me. I seem to be the only one that
spends almost every minute interacting with someone or another and many
patients newly arrived and more seasoned ones approach me time and time again.. I
do know what I am most frightened of though and that is getting the dreaded
Banjul Belly and of not being able to locate a European toilet. Within only 10
days or so I had already used half my supply of hand sanitizer and there was a
long time to go… As
I lay here on my bed in my little corner of Ana’s privately owned empire it
strikes me she is fearful of finding her successor and is unable to let go. All
this despite her moaning about various systems, government corruption and
selfish and lazy individuals etc. I am convinced that she will die on the job
or in part so to speak. Whatever the case, Anna is though a truly remarkable
woman. It’s a Short Day Really Made Longer by
the Sun This
is my world… I have an 8ft by 12 ft shed with a solar powered light above the
door and an old plastic curtain to screen off the toilet, sink and defunct
boiler contraption on the wall. There is no glass in the en suite window. A full
length mirror at the foot of my bed nailed to the front of a very naff formica
wardrobe and drawers that have obviously seen better days. The
fan is not working but takes up a lot of space. The bedside lamp is not
working, the air con is not working, the shower is not working and the hot
water is not working. On top of all these inconveniences I have 24 hour
visitors in the form of mosquitoes, red ants and biting flies. I
desperately need to get back into a gym. I eat x1 meal a day in the evening.
This is usually cooked in palm oil… I should be loosing weight but suspect I am
gaining. Home
sickness kicks in and I begin to worry excessively about money, in fact I worry
about just everything, just like at home. Hey I am becoming increasingly aware
that neither my presence nor my interventions really amount to much but guess
what… If they amount to anything, I will be delighted. Thursday 27th February 2014 Awake
since 04.30 worrying about the day ahead. Still no electricity and no water,
therefore no shave or wash etc. Fortunately the toilet flushes. Yep my biggest
fear continues too be taken short somewhere without access to a proper toilet
and some privacy. I
fill my small water bottle and pack my duffle bag with today’s necessities. I
had thought about including some more Loperimide tablets but must have
forgotten in my haste… I note I am running out of sun tan lotion and hand
sanitizer… Yes the morning walk to TT certainly seems to be getting easier… As
soon as I enter the main gate, exactly the same things each time, I am nearly
suffocated under the weight and searching hands of around 2-3 dozen jostling
bodies all eager for a part of me. First
off I share a pack of cigarettes before insisting that we all play a game of
volleyball later after breakfast and the dressings and drugs rounds. Every one
it seems gets tired very easily today. I then arrange a five a side football
contest but only half an hour in, I hurt my knee. All the boys rush over to
help. Some try to massage it, others twist or stretch or bend it everyway
possible. Nothing seems to do the trick so unfortunately, ‘game over’. Anna
eventually arrives and asks me to tell the lazy carpenter to mend the broken
ladder so that someone can climb onto the old tin roof and clean the solar
panels so that they might be able to work again. The
ladder was subsequently repaired but only temporarily. I try to organise and
mend the hosepipe. Fixing it to the drinking tap at the centre of the compound
from which I have been filling my water bottles from. However there is no tap
head and the hose which is maybe 50 meters in length is hauled along the
compound and up onto the roof of the female block. The water is turned full on
but the hose has so many holes in it that not even a trickle comes out. I
subsequently organise about a dozen young patients to hold their hands over the
leaking holes but to no avail. Even without the holes I doubt whether there
would have been sufficient pressure to do a proper job. I decide to climb on to
the roof and try to brush the dust and grime from off the solar panels. I even
have a couple of photos to capture the moment. Half
an hour or so later I am invited to sit in with one of the visiting female Cuban psychiatrists whilst she holds
court and decides who is fit for discharge and who must remain. Unfortunately,
her English is almost non existent but certainly a little better than her male
counterpart Fidel, the one with the deformed hands I mentioned before. It was
necessary for two staff to be present throughout in order to somehow try and
interpret what the psychiatrist was asking and then to translate the Mandingo,
Fuller or Wolof into Spanish. I am convinced that more often than not they all
got it completely wrong. However,
one male nurse with over thirty years experience was absolutely brilliant and
we just kind of clicked. His name is Moduam and he is an inspiration. We must
have seen over fifty individuals today and eleven of my friends were
discharged. Just
as I am leaving I bump into Dutch Maria who told me Anna had threatened to
leave and never return because of her many frustrations including the broken
table tennis table and the belief that several gardening tools had been stolen.
She had also complained about many of the lazy staff and had commented on how
Baba was not a manager. Oops
I nearly forgot, the last patient to be seen in the ward round was Sona. Her
father was present as was her social worker and another professional, I think
maybe solicitor who was in a wheelchair taking notes. It became clear that Sona
came from a very wealthy family and was well educated. She also had a problem
with her father’s second wife. Sona
had bi-polar… Her father insisted that she could not return to live with him
but was prepared to set her up in her own compound and arrange for a family
friend to support her and ensure she took her medication. Sona was prescribed
carbamazepine as a mood stabilizer and 100mg of chlorpromazine at night. I
nearly forgot the young Mandingo who gave a very good account of himself until
he lost it completely and frightened the female psychiatrist when he told her
that “she was his wife and he was going to f**k her stupid” The guards were on
him in a split second. It is amazing just how quickly they can move if they
think they might get recognition or a reward or something. One
of the nurses asked if the psychiatrist would see someone that had just turned
up at the gate and who was not a patient. Request granted much to my surprise
and it turned out to be a young and very articulate male who was well dressed
and worked in a professional capacity somewhere. He described classic anxiety
symptoms. The psychiatrist advised him to attend the polyclinic at Now
then, see what the sun can do to ya… The first thing I attended to on arriving
at TT this morning was a known female
patient aged about 45 years who approached me in what was essentially a
hysterical fashion. She subsequently told me her eldest son had been beaten to
death last night in a prison cell. She called herself ‘Baby Darling Berta
Caron’ I
tried to console her and gave her two cigarettes in quick succession which
seemed to have some value. However, when I saw her later in the psychiatrists
hospital round, she refused to mention anything about her previously stated
loss…. On reflection, I think I might have been duped good and proper… I don’t
think Baby Darling was deliberately lying but rather suspect she was confused
or deluded… I
am so much looking forward to Saturday. Not just because I can relax but
because I can wear my Bulgarian Baba Mata bracelet to signify the first day of
spring or ‘prolet’ as we say in An Observation There
is never enough food to go around here at TT and I think it is a great shame
that the staff eat all their meals before the patients. Many of them, the
patients I mean are unable to understand what is going on and suggest that this
particular practice is very cruel. I am inclined to agree. Dutch
Maria approached me mid morning with a mug of tea in her hand and explained
that she was of the opinion that German Pamela, the woman that let rip into me
yesterday was almost surely autistic or at least on that particular spectrum…
She certainly needs her rituals and routines in order to function at all… I
said hello to her earlier but am not sure she responded. She is seriously
weird. She actually barged in on the ward round earlier and insisted that she
have an audience with the visiting psychiatrist. Her request or rather her demand
was declined. I still can’t make out what she was expecting… The
young French speaking Senegalese guy who followed me around all day and whom I
thought had a length of purple cotton in his hair stopped following me around
when I attempted to remove the piece of cotton and realised only when he yelled
that it was not purple cotton at all but rather 11 stitches in an old head
wound that had never been removed.. Sounds familiar… I
exchange a smile with the Cuban psychiatrist who can only speak Spanish and
again wonder and worry how anything ever gets sorted. It is so bizarre here no
one can communicate with anyone verbally…. I
join in the art group and everyone crowds around me to comment on my pencil
drawing of an African Flycatcher that’s a bird in case you did not know. Even
Baba comments approvingly… I play the whole art thing down… One of the support
workers wants me to draw on a piece of linen so she can embroider it. I explain
my eyes are hurting and am due to have my cataracts removed shortly after
returning to the Yes
folks it really is surreal, it is approaching 13.00 hrs and the staff have
eaten their ‘breakfast’ lunch which was prepared by the chef from the
collection monies. The
afternoon just whizzes by and I slowly make my way back home. 27th February Thursday
Evening Just
before leaving the compound to hopefully meet the very anxious young man at 2
Rays Restaurant and give him the relaxation CD I think I have a brilliant idea.
Essentially because my shower is worse than useless, I fill half a dozen large
plastic drinking water bottles with water and leave them in the sun to warm up.
Ha ha, how brilliant is that? I
walk to the restaurant and order a seafood salad. Damn it is only18.50 hrs and
the electricity has just gone off, at least my salad does not need to be warmed
up. Actually it was a great light meal and I treated myself to a lovely
Margareta cocktail while waiting for my private patient to arrive. I
wait for two hours but he does not turn up. On
returning to the compound at Ker Serrin, Dembe the live in helper and so called
security guard asked if I had any medicine for his wife who had a temperature
and bad cough. I gave him some Paracetamol and explained the instructions for
their use. I did not let on that I knew he had HIV and that under the
circumstances, his wife might benefit from having her bloods checked as well as
their child. Quite
nice sitting outside my little shed by candle light this evening all on my own.
Still no electricity and can hear the drums in the distance. I have nothing
much to occupy me so embark on a text marathon to try and establish who might
be prepared to try and help me help Tanka Tanka or rather the TT Foundation. Friday 28th Feb 2014 I
wake later than usual and need to see Anna before she leaves for I
am concerned that I appear to be out of phone credit so send a brief
explanatory text to Jill and hope she can top me up…. I
arrive at TT just before 09.30hrs and am immediately surrounded by dozens of my
friends again. “Give me cigarette” “Give me Dalassi” “Pray for me” “Blab bla
bla” There is a very strong wind and the air is thick with dust. Some of the
staff are wearing surgical face masks which is both a little comical and a
little scary too. I am in time to help with the dressing round, my least
favourite part of the day. When completed, I have a brief Gambian lesson from
Swiss Peter. He tells me that home sickness goes away after two years or so. I also
learn that HAMATON means ‘Winter Wind’ which was the source of so much dust and
the appearance of so many face masks. He tells me NA GA DEFF means how are you?
After my language lesson I organise
volley ball and we eventually have an eight a side tournament. Baba joins in
for half an hour as does Dutch Maria. Half way through the second match I am
introduced to purple braided 60 something Linda from Purple
haired Linda informs me that she has had mental health problems herself and had
previously been on the board of Colchester MIND. She is an Occupational
Therapist Aid. As we sit and talk, a patient collapses in the compound and
several staff, three actually rush to carry him into the male sleeping
quarters. At first I thought he might have had some kind of seizure but am told
he fainted because of the combination of heat and Largactil tablets he had been
given. I
give German Pamela the autistic and obsessional OT/therapist or whatever she
might be a handful of pencils, a pencil sharpener and a stick of glue as a
gesture of my willingness to work together as harmoniously as possible.
Autistic Pamela seemed very pleased with her acquisitions. Later
I give Baba several copies of the ‘Wellbeing’ relaxation CD and I decide to
leave off a bit earlier than usual. On arrival back at Kerr Serrin, the
housekeeper Adama handed me a plate of boiled rice and a piece of meat of
unidentifiable origin that was impossible to cut with a knife or chew. I preyed
that this would be a one off and wished that I had not said that it was very
nice when Adama enquired. Dembe
tells me that we have electricity, great… I try the light switch and bang; the
bulb immediately blows so no electric after all. At which point I must mention
my returning home ritual of taking my trainers or boots off and shaking half
the I
need Paracetamol for my headache and back pain. I decide to lay down and rest
on my bed for a while; it is only half past three. I really must try to find
somewhere with Wi Fi so I can contact home. It
is 21.00hrs and I am already in bed. My headache is probably down to an
accumulation of stress and frustration throughout the day. AS already
mentioned, I left TT early because I think I deserve a break and because it is
Friday. Believe it or not I had no trouble with the taxi’s getting home. I do
have a big problem though as have no credit on my phone so am unable to contact
home. I
try to top up with credit but my card details are incorrect. Jill obviously
uses her card to top me up. It is now getting late but I am desperate so decide
to walk to the Strip and try to find a viable Wi Fi hot spot. Sol advises me to
visit the bar opposite the local tour office as he believes they have Wi Fi. I
buy a beer and am given the appropriate access code but am unable to connect. I
appear to be well and truly stuck. Even if someone texts me, I am unable to
reply. I know that for sure because I tried sending an SOS to Jill in which I
asked her to send me her card details but it would not send… I
may need to try and find an English tourist tomorrow and ask if they would text
Jill on my behalf. I have a late meal at D’Nubian Seafood Restaurant, butter
fish and boiled rice, yum yum. I even have a glass of white vino. Every
bloody ‘Bumster’ beggar and con man in town tried to collar me this evening. Every
one of them claimed to have either just got married or their wife had just
given birth to twins, or had a very sick relative. Some, although very much in
a minority can get very tetchy if ignored or asked to go away. I had one who
went right off on one and tried to pull the race card on me. He actually got
quite nasty and I was very tempted to give him a slap but thankfully, I was
saved by a passing policeman who pulled out his revolver. Despite
all my physical activities and relatively little to eat, I suspect I am gaining
weight. There is no local affordable gym and much of the food is cooked in palm
oil. When
I eventually arrive back at the compound, I find that I am locked out. Dembe
was most definitely not at his guard post. For a moment, I am tempted to try
and climb over the very high compound wall which has intruder preventing spikes
over a foot long on top…However, I thought better of it as I would have
undoubtedly been eaten alive by the two guard dogs Harry and Holly. I waited
outside in the pitch black for over half an hour before someone from out of the
darkness informed me that Dembe was visiting his wife and very kindly phoned
him regarding my predicament and advised him to get his arse back asap…He was
back within a couple of minutes and very apologetic. He
subsequently informed me the Dutch psychiatric nurse who has driven a long
wheel based Land Rover from Have
I mentioned that despite our strenuous efforts Dembe and I have both failed to
remove the blown light bulb from the socket in my shed? Under these
circumstances, we have been forced to rig up a peculiar looking vintage table
lamp which will remain my only source of light except for my trusty torch that
Richard bought me several years ago. Ha, I also have my Swiss Army Knife which
has come in handy so many times already. Loneliness
is a terrible state to find one-self in. The mind begins to play all sorts of
strange and unpleasant games. Thoughts occur randomly, one minute I am thinking
about my Dad, the next about the cost of dry oil sun-spray at the local
mini-market and the general scarcity of decent toilet paper… Next it occurs to
me that if I decide to take each Saturday and Sunday off from working at TT
then I will only have eleven more working days until Jill arrives on 18th
March. I certainly don’t plan on working the day she gets here but maybe get some
sunbathing in and top up my tan. Tomorrow
is Saturday 1st March and here in the I
love crossing out the days on my little paper West’s Chemist calendar I also do
it on my mobile calendar which makes me kinda sad really don’t ya think. Random
thought Number!!! Swiss Peter the patient waiting to be deported back to his
home country is probably one of the most intelligent men I have ever met, but
is seriously crazy I can tell you. Now how crazy is that? Oh
and how happy am I because Jill somehow managed to top up my mobile phone
credit by £10.00 and sent me a brief text. I am very lucky and plan to eat
nothing but salad tomorrow if I get hungry. 22.00hrs
and the massive iron gates to the compound make a loud jarring sound and wake
me up. The dogs do not bark and for a brief moment I thought maybe Dutch
Lonneka had arrived with her long wheel based Land Rover full of supplies. It
never occurred to me that if it had been her the dogs would have gone as crazy
as Swiss Peter. It must have been someone with whom they were familiar. I will
check in the morning. Saturday
1st March 2014 I
did not sleep too well last night, waking frequently and with strange dreams
in-between. Neither could I get comfortable. You know, or rather at the moment
you don’t know but you will within the next sentence or so. Considering I am so
close to the sea and of course the beach, I rarely even think about it and have
only been in the sea once since being here. Now
what must I do today? Well firstly, put my Bulgarian Baba -Mata bracelet on in
true Bulgarian tradition since it is the first day of spring or as we say in
Bulgarian, ‘Prolet’ I must go check
out the price of dry-oil sun spray and find Ebrima since I need a good price
taxi both to and from St’ Peters Church
Lamin Region. I am already beginning to regret agreeing to go to Church
with Paulina the Nurse. Since
it is Saturday, I get up at exactly 09.00 hrs. There is a breeze outside and
surprisingly little sun. There are no traffic sounds whatsoever because of
course it is Cleaning Day. The birds though are making up for it. Adama and
Dembe are both busy dusting and sweeping, each of them seemingly on auto-pilot
as usual. Adama smiles at me and offers me boiled rice and a pot of tea. I
accept the latter. She admires my red and white string Baba-Mata bracelet and
ties it on my wrist securely and cuts off an inch or so of unnecessary loose
end. Yeah, the birds are going hell for leather this morning. There is one in
particular that has started to get on my nerves with its constant purp, purp
purping, quite novel at first but the sound gets in your head like a dripping
tap. I
find myself playing with the two cut ends of string from my bracelet. How
exciting is that on your day off eh? I need to try and contact Ebrima that is
for sure. Ideally he will pick me up from the huge Vimto Container just off the I
trust that being a taxi driver and in his words “Da best Taxi Driver” he will
know how to get to St’ Peters Church Lamin. Adama notices that I have finished
my tea and offers to make another pot oh, and also offers me the rice she had
cooked earlier. Of course, I decline the latter but this time on the grounds of
having a dodgy belly. She smiles; she turns and in one single movement palms
the two bits of red and white Bulgarian string. She did not ask whether she
might take them and I must confess did not try to stop her or ask why she had
removed them from the table top. I just hope it was something to do with the
symmetry or the necessary order of things in the compound and that they were
not intended to form part of some ju-ju
or magic amulet. I had heard the most powerful ones needed something red in
order to make them particularly potent. Adama brings the small pot of tea and
returns to her dusting. I
sit by the pond and try to listen to the solar fountain but find it difficult
because of the birds. I engage in a spot of bird watching over tea. Apparently
there is a large turtle in the pond but I have never seen it yet. A
carpet of brightly coloured Fire finches have just descended in a noisy and
quarrelsome crimson and brown flock all around me. They are joined by a handful
of sky blue cordon blue’s. Both dogs Harry the killer dog and Holly the flying
pooch, yes I have actually seen her fly a couple of times both seem to be
missing Anna. Holly the smaller and less ferocious of the two recently caught a
weaver bird in flight and killed it. She also took out a huge lizard with a
single snap. The
tiny goldfish are fascinating to watch and create a wonderful swirling pattern
in the water and put on a fine display. 18 whole bloody days until Jill flies
out which means at least another 11 or 12 more working days before our holiday
can begin. S**t,
I have just seen a stork fly over the compound less than an hour after putting
on my Baba-Mata bracelet. In I
still have no idea why the gates were opened last night or by whom. I forgot to
ask but surely will before the days out. Now then, what to do next? Decisions,
decisions. Ah I know… Next stop, the beach however, I am not that keen on
setting off too early but the thought of there being no traffic on the roads
until around 13.00 hrs is just too much. I
subsequently pack what is left of my sun oil spray into my battered shoulder
bag together with one of Anna’s large beach towels, he same one Dembe
previously lent me and contemplate setting off. I
think I forgot to mention that so many patients noticed the inadvertently self
inflicted wound to my left ear yesterday the one I sustained through, go on
have a guess. Yep you got it, through shaving my ears. Now let me explain
further, I decided that I would rather shave them that put up for another day
with so many patients trying to remove the offending hairs by pulling them out
or poking them out of curiosity. Now though the thought of so many curious
psychotic individuals seems rather funny. Well at least I don’t have a wizened
pinkie like you Lamin 37 or any other obvious deformity like so many other poor
folk here. Almost
about to set off as planned but first I need to pack a small bottle of tap
water, some cash and my mobile. It is hard to move because Holly the flying dog
has got her head on my lap and there is a cat asleep on the next chair. The cat
does not have a name by all accounts. Adama is polishing the clothes line as I
am about to leave and Dembe is stacking leaves. Do
you know what? If it was not for all this writing, I think I might just go
quite mad. I am halfway through the gate and note that both dogs are getting
their daily application of ear lotion applied to treat existing and to prevent
further fly damage. I think I could probably do with some myself. Oh
no, I forgot to wash the tea pot out and so am compelled to venture back into
the compound. I wash to pot, put it on the side and squeeze the tea bag before
placing it in the bin. Shock horror, the bin has been moved and no-one asked
me. It is so weird, everything has its own place unyet everything seems so
random. I
even notice a long forgotten, or at least I presume it was forgotten sausage
hanging from a hook in the kitchen cupboard and exposed to the elements and
creepy crawlies that are everywhere in this open air kitchen of ours. It is still
there over a week later exposed to gawd knows what. Nothing is ever thrown away
or wasted here, a bit like Before
I eventually set off I note Dembe has changed the water and contents of the
flycatcher. Thankfully he must have done this when I was still in bed. You
know, or at least you will in a minute. There are parts of this compound that I
have not yet explored, particularly those areas beyond the tall fruit trees and
multi coloured shrubs. I
find myself worrying about money a lot of the time. I seem to be getting
through it, but is it going too quickly? For a second I begin to panic, don’t
tell me I have been giving out 100 Dalassi notes instead of 10’s or 25’s, by
mistake, they all look so similar. On reflection, everyone has been so very
smiley faced whenever I have made a purchase or a donation. Nah, surely not I
worry about money back home. Worrying is as much a part of me as the mole on
the sole of my left foot and my new scabby ear. I
do not seem able to work out even the simplest mathematical problem, I know
maths has never been my strong point but hey, I have a calculator on my mobile
but still can’t figure them out. How much am I spending on average per day? I
would guess around the equivalent of £15.00 or as near as damn it. Before
finally setting off from the compound I fill another large water bottle and
leave it outside my shed to warm in the sun. I have four there now preparing
for my next shower. Ooops, I nearly forgot to pack my little map to show Ebrima
where I want to go tomorrow, if he is free that is. I have
absolutely no luck finding or otherwise contacting Ebrima and he has not yet responded
to my text. According to some of his taxi driver buddies at the rank opposite
Maddies Beach Resort and Bar Ebrima is either not working or is on a job it
seems. I decide to spend some time soaking up the sun by Maddies pool. If
anybody asks, I make out that I am staying at the hotel. Okay
so what have I actually done today? Having eventually set off for the beach, I
change my mind and stop at Maddies Beach Club and grab a sun lounger. I
eventually buck up enough courage to approach a large English family and ask if
anyone would be prepared to spray my back. No problem. It seems the whole family
are all on holiday to celebrate a wedding. They are originally from I
spend several hours sunning both front and back before setting off for the
compound at around 15.00 hrs. No sooner have I arrived back at Ker Serrin than
Adama offer me rice. Since I have not eaten or drunk anything except a single
glass of water since breakfast time, I accept the plate of boiled rice. There
you go, a simple plate of rice all knocked back in a couple of minutes with a
large dollop of my recently acquired extra hot sauce. No
sooner am I rehydrated than I go check out my shower invention, I’m sure you
remember the water bottles dont’cha. I shampoo and lather myself from top to
bottom before washing all the suds away with six large bottles of lovely sun
warmed water. Afterwards I try and rest because my back is giving me quite a
bit of jip. Dembe
has requested more Paracetamol for his wife who seems to think they are great
Toobab medicine. I must be growing a bit soft because I hand over all my
remaining Paracetamol making sure to reinforce all the necessary information
about dosage and the risk of overdosing if more than the maximum recommended
number are taken within 24 hours. Much
later I enjoy a mixed seafood salad at the D’Nubian Restaurant and send another
text to Ebrima which again goes unanswered. I inquire about the price of a taxi
from the Senne Gambia Strip to St’ Peters Church Lamin and am repeatedly told
1,000 Dalassi for a one way journey. I decline on the grounds that I have never
spent that much in a single day and that includes dining out, four taxis for
work and buying forty cigs for the patients at TT. I
set off on the return walk back to the compound and on the way I hand out
handfuls of goodies for the street children courtesy of Miss. Hazel Moss back
in the UK who is one of the most down to earth ladies I have ever met and who very
kindly packed me off to the Gambia with a whole rucksack full of very practical
treats such as pens, paper, crayons notepads etc etc. I call these little
treats ‘Hazel Gifts’ Many of the children and sometimes their parents it seems
have grown accustomed to being treated and now seem to expect it of me. Operant
conditioning eh, well it certainly works here. The
Bumsters are at work again this evening but I manage to squeeze by without too
much difficulty. Of course there is always the odd exception but as a general
rule most seem to appreciate what I do during the week, in fact I am becoming
something of a local celebrity. Hey, Tanka Tanka the guys shout from across the
road, or as we pass in opposite directions. “I’m
a psychiatric nurse, get me out of here” Dembe
begs me to remain at Anna’s when Jill eventually gets here but I explain that
she has already paid for the hotel and the deposit is not refundable in the
event of a cancellation. He is rather persistent today I give him that… He asks
if we would consider spending one night and I kind of agree to think about it. Dembe
also confirms Nurse Paulina’s quote for transport from Ker Serrin to St’ Peters
Church near Lamin market by ‘Bush Cab’ and I will give it a try first thing
tomorrow morning. No
news from home and so I aim to retire in 5 �" 10 minutes though before I do, I
fill another bottle with water and leave it on the stool outside my shed. Holly
the flying dog escorts me to my door. Despite
trying to ignore it, I am becoming increasingly aware of my swollen and very
red left hand which is either very sun burnt or suffering from a severe
reaction to something. It is not particularly painful but it is very swollen. I
have thought about taking a photo of it but then what album would I file that
in? It
is 21.30 hrs and I cross another day off my West’s calendar and retire to bed,
in doing so I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and note that I do not
look like me any more. First
thing in the morning I plan on trying to test out Dembe’s theory that transport
from my compound at Ker Serrin to St’ Pauls church Lamin will cost no more than
100 Dalassi each way.. A big difference when compared with the taxi rank quote. Sunday
2nd March 2014 I
need to be up in time for church and reckon I will need to catch at least three
and possibly four taxis. The first one to the 1st turnstile should
be 8 Dalassi the second one to the 2nd turnstile at Banjul international
Airport around 15 Dalassi and the third one to St Peter’s church Lamin District
another 8 or 9 Dalassi. I
catch the first two easily enough but the second driver sailed straight past my
stop without me knowing or even noticing. To put it bluntly I had no idea where
I might be. It was only when I asked the driver how far we were from my
destination that he slammed his brakes on. He then started to blab something
about “it all being my fault”… We subsequently entered into a very heated
argument which would have been bad enough if there was only me and a taxi
driver but this was a bush cab don’t forget and there was probably 10 -12 other
passengers, a menstruating goat, several chickens and many assorted bags of
personal belongings many of which were piled up in front of my exit and
prevented me from getting off without taking several of the other passengers
with me. Our
argument seemed to last forever until eventually the driver agreed to return my
fare, eased me out of the vehicle and walked me to the other side of the road
where he hailed another bush cab on my behalf. What a relief that was, I did
not get the x2 Dalassi change that I was owed though and I could see no point
in asking. Something
very similar happened on the last leg of my outward journey to church that day.
But anyway, by the time I arrive 15 minutes early I am extremely hot and
bothered and my belly is aching which is never a good sign. Paulina
arrives bang on 10.00 a.m. There seem to be several hundred people all milling
around though vaguely heading toward the church each dressed in their very
finest Sunday best. Paulina informs me this is a very special Harvest Festival
celebration held only once a year. When
we eventually got inside, I was struck by the enormity of the place and
absolutely amazed by the numbers of people crammed like sardines along the
aisles and the pews. They were everywhere it seemed and turning to look over my
shoulder; I could clearly see the congregation spewing out onto the lawns and
pathways in their dozens. I noticed
I was the only Toobab in the entire congregation; the only other white person
was an older gent with presumably his wife/partner and her family. One tends to
notice that kind of thing here. The
service was broken up by prayer readings, the singing of hymns, numerous
sermons and speeches by local dignitaries and believe it or not an advert for
the menu of local dishes that would be available immediately after the service
including a full range of alcoholic and alcohol free beverages and price lists.
Oh my gosh, there was one procession after another and these were followed by
the reading out of births marriages and deaths. Then of course came the
prayers. Oh my how they prayed. They
prayed for just about everything, everyone and everywhere including I
must confess to feeling increasingly bored with the whole affair and was almost
falling asleep between mild but worsening stomach cramps. I distinctly recall
praying that there would not be a communion service to round of the
proceedings. But guess what, everyone in the entire church was individually
splashed with holy water by one of several priests from out of the buckets
being ceremoniously carried along the aisles before them. Another
stomach cramp forces me to turn toward Paulina again and ask how long we have
left? She responds by informing me there are over 800 people inside the church
and several hundred more outside. “Please Paulina, how much longer.” The
parishioners of the District of Lamin were noted by me to be very generous in
their various donations to the church for the Harvest. They provided barrow
loads of vegetables, several goats a cow, chickens by the dozen an electric
fan, yeah random or what oh and a box of eggs. After
mentioning by name everyone that had died in the last week, we were all invited
to re-visit the previously mentioned menu of African delicacies and price list.
Once out in the bright sunlight, Paulina introduced or rather showed me off to
many of her friends, her sisters and brothers and of course to her father. I
think her dad was horrified that I might ask for his daughters hand in
marriage. I
quickly made my excuse to leave insisting that a friend’s wife was cooking my
lunch and I did not want to be late. I finally manage to get back to the
compound at Ker Serrin but only after another series of fiascos. I
actually run in the blazing heat for over one and a half miles with just five
very brief stops along the way so my stamina is improving or rather my
endurance appears to be. The
total cost of my bush taxi fare round trip came to 80 Dalassi that is 12
Dalassi more than it should have been but for the unplanned and very necessary
extra taxi and the non return of the 2 Dalassi I did not get back after my
argument with driver number 200067G. Yep I got his number just in case. I
am so relieved to be back at the compound. Dembe is still dusting and sweeping
and took great delight when I told him he had not been far out with his
estimation of taxi costs. Adama
must have the day off because there is no sign of her and there is no rice
waiting for me. Do
you know, I have already got through over three quarters of a large bottle of
hot pepper sauce since I bought it not that long ago? My main concern at
present is that I seem to have been bitten or stung on the left hand which is
very swollen and painful. Additional concerns are centred around the shortage
of dry sun oil spray and toilet wipes both of which I seem to be getting
through at an alarming rate. Despite
my hectic day so far, I can not settle and decide to pack for Maddies Beach
Club that I have mentioned before which is situated almost directly opposite
where Ebrima is based and a little further down from the Hotel Jeliba where
Jill and I stayed in 2012. Unfortunately there are no friendly English faces so
I dare not grab a sun lounge and head back to the compound again. It
is hard to imagine that when Jill and I were here last year, I could hardly
manage to walk from the Jeliba Hotel to the Senne Gambia Strip without several
pauses. All the gym work and my quitting cigarette smoking in 2010 would seem
to be paying off. I
really can’t wait to get back in the gym. The one I looked at a few days ago
was very and I do mean very expensive. Under these circumstances I am forced to
rely on my daily Tanka Tanka workouts, miles of walking, and the occasional run
which I might try extending by several yards each day. It
has come to my attention that 99% of the Yes
folks, the The
sex industry for example is everywhere, open but not in your face and there is
a darker, more individualised form of exploitation here which is maybe borne
out of greed or hunger. It is hard to tell which exactly because young men have
offered to sell me their sister for a bargain price… Now
let me tell you about young Tommy. He is a youngster we first met last year who
never tried to con us out of anything, he just had a big smiley face and was
grateful if we said hello in passing. This year he seems to have grown up a bit
or perhaps I should say wised up a bit. He is now working in a mini mart and
hustling for business for his employer. It
has occurred to me often that there seems to be so many people on the street
with absolutely nothing that it would be a terrible thing indeed if I chose not
to capture some of it here in writing. You must understand, there are so many hungry
people here of all ages it is virtually impossible to imagine how much hungrier
many of my friends must be back at Tanka Tanka. A
Hornbill has just landed on a branch in front of me as I sit by the pool in the
compound. I watch fascinated for a few moments before it darts from the branch
and unexpectedly head butts or rather bill butts the side window to Anna’s
library and TV room. Now that would make one hell of a photograph if I could
capture it on film. The loud noise it makes on contact with the glass pane
disturbed the dogs. Hornbills
really are quite spectacular in their own way. It seems that they are drawn to
their own reflection in the glass and being territorial, try to frighten of
what they see as an intruder. I witness the same spectacular head on collision
several more times in quick succession. Anna later informed me that my
observation is not at all unusual. What I do find surprising though is how it
has not yet managed to smash the window, or to give itself brain damage. I
am suddenly conscious of being surrounded by Laughing, Pink Eyed, Collared and
African mourning Doves and I find myself smiling to myself. Yep, it would be
really quite peaceful here if it was not for those silly head banging Hornbills
and the dogs barking whenever they hear the crash of beak on glass. Talking
about birds, I have just noticed a new visitor. Almost by reflex, I reach for
Anna’s book ‘Birds of the I
start thinking again… It might be quite nice if Jill stayed here at least one
night, just to get some idea of my life here in The Gambia. Dembe must have
been reading my mind because from quite out of nowhere, he begins to beg me to
ask ‘Boss Lady’ to stay here at the compound when she eventually arrives. It
has just occurred to me that I need to ask Matron Baba for a letter requesting
a free extension of my visitor’s visa on the grounds of my volunteer status at
TT. I
nearly forgot, or rather nearly failed to mention that on my way both to and
from St Peter’s church earlier, there is an area along the road given over to
an abattoir and several dozen, if not more butchers stalls, all open to the
elements and minus any form of refrigeration. Perhaps not surprisingly, in
front of each stinking stall several dozen species of vulture had gathered,
presumably attracted to the stench and to the bits of flesh being trimmed from
the many carcasses and which were tossed into the road. Which for some obscure
reason made me wonder whether Purple braided Linda the vegan from I
am only curious because if she tells anyone about her own mental health
history, as she did me, I suspect she will not be welcome back or might even
end up being locked up. They really are very funny in that respect. It
would seem to be approaching 18.00 hrs and the garden here is really beginning
to come to life again as the sun prepares to go down and is less savage. I
marvel at the spectacular manoeuvres of a long tailed flycatcher as it does its
stuff mid air and then sips water from the pool to wash the grubs down, or to
cleanse the palate maybe. I will check with Clive on my return to the My
lips have been cracking for the last couple of days but are not too painful. I
think the pain in my back and pelvis probably blot out any discomfort I might
otherwise have, except for my poor old left hand which is getting redder and
more swollen. I
find myself thinking about what my friends in the Would
I count Diane from the days and life before Jill? Maybe… Oops, I almost forgot
Glenn S who I have known since school and his wife Sue. Now that makes 15
altogether, I am truly blessed. Incidentally,
Glenn S has reserved two tickets to this years Ashtonbury Music Festival that
is again being held in his brother’s garden…I can hardly wait. Ding;
there goes that money worry again. Better go and check the cash supplies for
the third time and decide where the cheapest place to eat is this evening. The
traffic noise outside the compound is beginning to pick up �" All the people
either going home, or going out, even so, the birds in their various guises are
still the most prominent sound. Toot toot, ching ching, hoot hoot, bang bang
and something that sounds like a tyre being blown up followed of course by
another head/bill butt into the window pane sound that goes ‘dunk’ and I don’t
mean McGowan. My
brother Neil comes to mind… I love him as a brother but of course he is my
brother and I love him more than that. I
long to be as close as we once were, when we could have and often chose to take
on the world together. Yeah, I would like it to be like that again. How
he manages to cope with all that has happened and the various problems and
stresses in his life, I can’t imagine. I truly hope and pray though that he has
realised that alcohol is not the answer, nor is any other drug… I would
seriously like him to come again to I
could not possibly be prouder of my two grown up children Richard and Rebecca
or love them any more than I do and no, I am not just being sentimental, just
honest with myself. I am also so delighted that they are each so grounded,
caring and genuine. They are also such good friends and I well up inside
thinking about how Jill and I made such lovely individuals between us. I
could go on and on and probably will, but not just now. I need to find
something to eat before again retiring to bed. Despite having recently boasted
about my mammoth walking feats and running skills, I decide to take the easy
option and dine at Two Rays Gourmet Restaurant on the Senne Gambia Strip and
just one down from Uncle Nuah’s. Two Rays have always delivered a magnificent
Margareta when needed but since they are relatively expensive, I decide to have
a glass of dry white wine with my grilled calamari and boiled rice. At the same
time as I was eying up the evening specials on the blackboard, a woman of
around the same age as myself approached me and asked what the food was like? I
had no hesitation but to recommend the place. I eventually settle for the
calamari as it was the cheapest option. The
woman thanked me for suggesting she dine at Two Rays and sat at the next table
from me and ordered a beer and the grilled barracuda. She explained she was
from She
asked if I knew of any good tours so I introduced her to Sol from Bushwhackers
Tours as he was based only a few hundred yards down the road and then I take my
leave as I had a long day tomorrow. 20.50
hours and I am sitting outside my shed by the light of a single solar powered
lamp. The only sounds are from the road about 100 or so yards away, the
crickets and the drums. What is it about drums eh? A large
passenger plane flies slowly overhead but at what I consider to be a
dangerously low altitude. I have never noticed anything like this before… I
imagine I can feel the heat from its engines and the roar it makes is
momentarily deafening. I suspect this was not a standard landing but rather
more improvised and hopefully not to be repeated. The dogs are going absolutely
crazy and for as long as my ears take to adjust to the returning and relative
silence, all is quiet again except for the crickets, the drums and maybe just
maybe the sound of the ocean. Hey
I notice if you listen very carefully, let’s say in between the sounds and
noises of the night, it is possible to detect or pick out night sounds that
would otherwise have gone unnoticed. For example the tiny shrew, vole or other
rodent as it dashed between the wheel arch of the Land Rover and the wisteria
growing along the wall. Last
night on my way home to the compound, I met a man in the road who had hardly
any hands. He told me he lost them through acid burns. How I wish I could help
him or offer something but I am out of cash and have nothing else of any value
on me at the time. Maybe I will though another time. Many
of the Gambians I meet on my travels talk such a load of rot. One memorable
outpouring of such nonsense went something like this … “Tell my brother at
Tanka Tanka you met me and if you forget, just remember, okay!! Monday
03.03.2014 I
feel a bit dodgy this morning and spend much time on the toilet. I eventually
set off however and catch the first of my taxis to the turn table without a
problem. I catch the 2nd one easily as well but my belly is aching
badly and I am unable to concentrate on the road therefore, we go sailing past
what should have been my stop outside the TT sign. I must confess to feeling a
bit worried as we seem to have gone several miles out of my way. Unfortunately,
I have a really dumb driver who claims he is unable to speak any English. He
understood well enough though when I told him I had no money to pay for the
return journey to my original TT dropping off point. On
reflection, I suppose I should have accepted some responsibility for not paying
attention. The driver turns his cab around and I eventually crawl out of the
taxi at the TT sign and start walking. Much slower than usual I might add along
the dirt track. Within 20 minutes or so, one of the male nurses and Dutch Maria
catch up with me and I try to explain my situation and the events of the
previous night when I had spent most of the night on the toilet and vomited
three or four times. Dutch
Maria said I looked green and should go home but I felt obliged to go on. When
we arrive, all the patients seem pleased to see but many begin to express their
concern for the way I look. Some
advise me to drink some warm milk, now where would I get that from eh? Several
others still want me to play volley ball regardless of how I look. One and a
half hours later and I have definitely had enough. I most definitely do not
want to use any of the TT toilets and I certainly don’t want to embarrass
myself. I
locate Dutch Maria and ask her to send my apologies to Baba but emphasise that
I must go home to bed and hoped to be back tomorrow morning. I arrive home at
12.45 hrs. My back aches, my belly aches and my hand still look very red and
swollen. I am thinking it might be an allergic reaction to something, possibly
to a weed when I was working on the vegetable garden at TT. No
sooner am I in the compound at Ker Serrin than Adama offers to cook me some
rice. I decline and hope that she understands I am not well. I
feel very guilty about letting TT down but I also feel so very unwell. Another
trip to the toilet coming up… Yeah,
I got that one right then!!! I
find an old discarded sun lounger in the garden behind the trees and decide to
move it more so as it is in the sun. In doing so, I disturb a nest of tiny ants
which swarm all over it and myself. I can hardly believe that I refuse to
budge. Normally I would have run inside, or tried to wipe the lot out, I really
do have a thing about ants. Despite
everything, it is quite pleasant here surrounded by bird life and reptiles and
insects. There are lots of beautiful dragon flies today. A bird in the distance
sounds as though it is laughing at me. Another one sounds just like a car that
turns over but refuses to start up. Over and over it goes and all the while the
vultures are circling directly over head. Just like Osman’s hallucinatory vision
that he told me about when we first met in the compound at TT. I
feel unable to settle and so have a wash, shave and clean my teeth again. I ask
Dembe how much a toilet roll would cost me but he replied “I don’t know” Now
does that mean that his wife does all the shopping, or does that mean he does
not use the stuff? I am not sure but anyway, within about five minutes Adama
hands me a kitchen roll… I am very grateful.. One
brief observation whilst making my way back to bed but quite an important one
if you ask me and certainly one that typifies much of what I have previously
hinted at regarding the Gambian mentality… Okay, here goes. Remember me telling
you about Anna’s disgusting fly trap contraption that she keeps topping up with
rotten prawn and shrimp shells? Well I notice it has been emptied since last
evening but there is not a single drowned or otherwise lured to their demise
fly to be found in it. Guess what? Dembe forgot to re-fill or load it with any
bait. There
is loads of activity both in and around the pond as usual but I still have not
seen the turtle. How
much do I wish I knew what caused my bout of Banjul Belly or is it Bottie? I
suppose it might have been the squid or the salad I had yesterday, or it might
have been the freshly picked papaya that Dembe picked for me yesterday. My
left hand is now as red as a fire finch. Oh
well, at least I don’t have to buy another roll of toilet paper yet.. The
Dutch psychiatric nurse called Lonneka who drove from Between
you and me, the pond and the toilet, I have just seen the most beautiful red
dragonfly sitting on a leaf… Oh
s**t, I have certainly made a pig’s ear of tearing the kitchen roll in half...
Nothing in the I
wish I had a video camera handy because I have been watching Dembe make his
tea, pouring it from his little tea pot into several tiny shot type glasses
from an incredible height without spilling a drop. It takes him over half an
hour to prepare and involves a bucket full of sugar and a handful of mint
leaves. Okay
next problem, what do I do if Lonika or Dutch Maria arrive to check I am still
alive? I am most certainly not in an entertaining mood and I do not want to
confine myself to bed. Under these circumstances, I might need to venture out
on some pretext or another. What could it be I wonder…? Of
course it might be nothing to do with what I have recently eaten, or what I drank
from the tap. Maybe it is something to do with all the handshaking and the
repetitive counting and folding of filthy Gambian Dalassi. Maybe it is time to
crack open another bottle of hand sanitizer… I
have just had a shower and shampoo using my empty water bottle and soon to be
patented d****e system. It
is now 16.30 and life goes on as normal outside in the compound. Dembe
and Adama are busy sweeping and dusting. Actually, they are not busy but rather
just going through the motions. Essentially wiping, flicking and sweeping al
before them. I
decide to try a cup of tea and a handful of Loperimide tablets. I also
recognise the fact I will need to buy some dioralite rehydration tablets very
soon and some salt replacement sachets ASAP. Adama
is keen to make tea for me and takes water from the tap. I am increasingly wary
but recognise that Anna drinks it all the time and am conscious that I have had
many brews from the tap to date and have not suffered from any problems so
far.. Nevertheless, is bottled better? I wonder. I
have not seen Harry or Holly much today, my guess is that it has just been too
hot for them and they are trying to keep out of the way of the ear eating
flies.. Tree
Jumping Lizards Now
there’s a thing…. I don’t mean they can jump over trees but rather they jump
from one to another. Fascinating little creatures and it looks fun too. Little
things please little minds or so they say.. At least they take my mind off my
bellyache for a moment or two. There
is a flock of weaver birds on top of the old 4 x4 and I recall having a couple
of these in my aviary when I was a kid.. Weaver bird weaver bird One two three Weaving away quite happily Weaver bird weaver bird Will you weave for me A three piece suite Before my tea ? I
think we also have tailor birds here but have not yet seen one as far as I
know. I don’t actually know what one
looks like but if I see one with a needle and a thimble I guess that will give
the game away. Adama
has just left for home. She wishes me well and I beg her under my breath to let me make any tea or
rice in future and that she stick to dusting. My
hand looks awful but it does not hurt anywhere near as bad as it looks. I am
more embarrassed by its appearance though. What a pity it was not on my right
hand I thought, that would be a good reason to avoid all the unnecessary
handshaking that goes on here. I
just notice that I am covered in thick dust and why? I just don’t know given
that both the house boy and maid are constantly dust, dust, dusting away. But
then, that is the trouble here, everyone moves the rubbish or unwanted items
from one place or spot and dump it in another.
Just like me and the Dutch guys did with all those wheel barrows full of
rocks and stones we collected from the compound at TT and dumped outside in no
mans land. Those
rocks by the way could have been lethal weapons in the wrong hands, dont’cha
think.. Thump,
one of the hornbills just dived into the window and I am reminded of the fact
it would be good to keep my camera handy. I
have just completed my list of things I need to buy which include further
supplies of · Loperimide tablets · Dioralite salt & rehydration sachets · Sun screen dry oil spray · Change £100 into local currency I
inquire where the nearest pharmacy is but despite directions am unable to find
it. I
walk to Bushwhackers Tours and seek
out Sol. I am informed that he is on tour but expected back any moment. I agree
to wait for him but before I can even sit down and make myself comfortable, the
Bushwhackers jeep rounds the corner,
Sol sees me, jumps out the back and saunters up to greet me with a big smile, a
handshake and shoulder knock. I explain what I need and Sol directs me to the
local pharmacy. I
am about to set off on my quest when approached from behind by the Spanish
woman I met last night. Or to be more precise, the Andalusian PA to a multi
national exporting Basque Beret Manufacturing Company who invites herself to
supper with me. I
explain that before I can consider eating, I first need to obtain supplies… “No
matter” she said…As we walk in the direction of the pharmacy, Cova explains
that she is married and well travelled but her book binding husband hates
travelling. He it seems is only interested in old books and manuscripts. Cova
is obviously a very intelligent and articulate woman whose age is difficult to
determine. She might I thought be a similar age to myself although she could be
older or even younger I supposed. One of those is almost certainly correct. I
make my purchases from the pharmacy and we make our way to D’Nubian Seafood Bar
and Restaurant. The staff there ask if my wife has arrived. I try to explain
the situation but no one really seems that interested. After
the meal which I insist we each pay our own way, I walk Cova to the top of
Senni Gambia Strip off the Highway and say goodnight. Cova asks if I will be
dining out at D’Nubian again tomorrow. I make a point of emphasising my
uncertainty. There
is one good thing about walking in the dark with someone else and that is, the
Bumsters tend to be less bothersome. I
eventually arrive back at the compound. The dogs Harry and Holly are loose.
Dembe is at his post though and informs me there is no news of Lonika the Dutch
psychiatric nurse volunteer yet. Oh
well, let’s see what tomorrow brings. Before hopping into bed, I find that I
have received texts from both Jill and Elizabeth. I
really must try and sort out my visa extension but desperately need a
supporting letter from Matron Baba. If he provides confirmation that I am
working as a volunteer at TT I could save anything between 500 and 1,000
Dalassi depending on who is wielding the visa stamp on the day. Almost
forgot, I dined on butter fish and boiled rice earlier which was all washed
down with a nice glass of red wine. Night, night. I
struggle to get off to sleep despite feeling very tired and ache all over. The
drums are all around and in my head. Okay,
so Cova the multi lingual Basque Beret Manufacturing Organization PA would
prefer not to dine alone tomorrow evening, but that is a long way off and in
between drum beats, I suggest that we see what happens. I am not too keen on
sharing a table with someone I don’t really know. Anyway, I am sure she would
not remain unescorted for very long. Actually,
Cova seems a genuinely nice person but when restaurant staff or other unknown
passers by ask me the name of my wife, I cringe. Unable
to sleep, I get up and head towards Dembe’s corner in the dark. He is very much
asleep and my presence startles him. When he has recovered, I ask whether
anyone from TT has asked about me. It seems no one has. I am a little
disappointed, I had thought at least Dutch Maria might have shown some
interest, given the fact according to her I was green coloured when she last
saw me. Out
of sight, out of mind I suppose, who at the end of the day knows? All I can say
for sure is that my belly is beginning to ease off a bit but I still feel very
weak and strangely very cold… Leka nosht!! Remember Life before bar codes Before Dress codes Before Cell phones & Before Downloads ? Tuesday
4th March 2014-07-20 Did
not sleep too badly but was woken by the sound of birds, drums and what I
imagine was another monkey banging on my roof with a grapefruit in its hand. I
feel rather indebted to Demba and Adama and begin to think I should give them
something when I eventually leave. Moments later, I recognise that this was yet
another quite out of the blue and otherwise random thought, but hey that is
what seems to happen here. I
part draw the curtain across the full length window or glass pane which serves
as my door to the shed I call home. This at least serves to afford some privacy
from the compound. At first, I suspect it has been raining during the night but
no. I realise it was Dembe who had begun to use the hose to wash down the green
car and the 4 x4 again. When
I eventually move again and vacate my pit, both Dembe and Adama are busy
dusting. Within seconds, I am offered tea and boiled rice. I accept the former. There
is an absolute cacophony of sound this morning that seems to consist of a
random collection of bird calls, traffic and something else that I can’t quite
make out… I give
a loud knock with a sizeable piece of discarded concrete and an eye appears on
the other side of the huge iron lock… The door is eventually opened by a guard.
I step inside and notice several guards lounging around in various stages of
wakefulness. None of them seems alert or capable of responding to any kind of
incident and certainly none appear to be doing anything useful. Despite
the inertia I have vaguely outlined, several of the uniformed guards
acknowledge me. I am however greeted very noisily by the girl with an obvious
learning disability (the girl they all call Tomorrow)… I in turn begin to greet
a line of between 20 and 30 guys who are sitting or laying on the low wall
outside the records office on the male block side. Paulina
and maybe three other white uniformed staff are doing something but I am not
sure what exactly… They might be having handover from one of the two night
staff. They greet me collectively with “How is your belly today, Toobab” The
glare in the compound is so bright, it hurts the eyes and today it is so dusty
it is impossible to see the far wall and all that it contains. Despite my partial blindness, I make out one
man pissing against the shrubs where many of the roaming chickens seem to hang
out. Another wanders by wearing what remains of a pair of Calvin Kline underpants. I don’t know where he hangs out as a rule
but have never yet seen him wearing anything else. Several
other folk, both male and female are wrapped only in TT stamped grey sheets to
hide their modesty. I notice x2 staff escort one old man back to the toilet
block draped only in a torn TT sheet. Yes
indeedy folks, the day has most certainly once again begun…Mohammed wants to
look at the “most beautiful picture of my
daughter Rebecca” dressed in her Tommy Atkins army uniform that I have kept
on my I phone --- A crowd quickly
gathers around and everyone is impressed. Those that are not able to catch a
glimpse ask if they can marry the “English
army girl” “I
will give you 500, 000, 000 Dalassi and a big house for her, I want you to be
my father in law On
the other hand, there were those that insisted… “I
am God” Surrounded
as I am by so many delusional Bi polar, schizophrenic and otherwise drug
induced psychotic individuals, all chattering away and wanting a bit of Neville
Pettitt and can I have a cigarette now kind of people, I must confess to
occasionally feeling just a little bit vulnerable… Everything
is in the eyes, or so it seems. One of my very first impressions since arriving
is that there are three kinds of eyes 1) The vacant dreamy far away eyes of those most heavily
sedated 2) The frighteningly red and piercing eyes of those most
truly frightened 3) The eyes that appear to be coming out of a daze and
that hint of increasing insight and awareness 4) The eyes of those in many cases only recently and
briefly recovered who are likely to be discharged very soon but only to be
re-admitted tomorrow or the day after… Having
said all that, I have seen many folk who in my opinion should never have been
admitted in the first place and even more that were very obviously prematurely
discharged… Almost
every day it seems I spend a certain amount of time trying to discourage the
use of local grown cannabis and emphasising the negative impact this can have
on mental health. Almost everyone insists they will never use the stuff again,
however, I suspect that almost every single one of them will… Some
clearly have no intention of stopping and are very open about their intentions…
After all, they say what else do they have? On
reflection, I think some of my finest work here has been on a 1-1
psycho-educative and relapse prevention basis…Let me give you an example… I
simply say “You must take your medication every day and visit the poly clinic
every 2 �" 4 weeks” I
have already seen many former patients pitch up at the poly clinic and remain
so far well. On the other hand, I have seen many repeat admissions. Admissions
by the way are almost invariably under police escort bound by cuff or cord. At
which point I feel it is necessary to point out that this type of restraint can
inflict severe injuries and if one should fall when thus trussed, severe
injuries can prevail. I
have seen several individuals bound hand and foot who in their attempt to
escape have fallen without being able to protect their head, face and other
exposed vulnerable parts… I
have seen guards who seem to enjoy this aspect of their job however, it is most important for me to emphasise here that
if I am ever around when anything might untoward be going on, English is never
the language of choice…. Sometimes,
patients will speak to me in several languages within the same sentence and
expect me to respond accordingly. Such folk as I am sure you can imagine are
usually quite psychotic… Medication
and dressings completed early today, not by me I must point out which leaves me
feeling a bit put out as it means I need to organise physical activities much
sooner than expected. Actually
I have never been involved in the medication round other than to observe, it
looks a bit of a free for all. There is certainly nothing clinical or subtle
about the dishing out and most of it looks like guess work, pot luck or bad
luck in some cases. Very often there is a shortage of one pill or another… “When
do we eat Toobab?” “Soon,
when the staff have had theirs” I feel obliged to add. New
patients often call me ‘Boss man’ or ‘Toobab’ … I always reply “My name is It
seems there are only two Toobabs in today, Pamela the autistic German therapist
and myself. Oh’ make that three because Swiss Peter is still with us of course. “Still
speaking words of wisdom Set him free “ My
back seems to ache in different places at different times of day. I blame that
very first volley ball match, although my bed might have something to do with
it, or the football. I
must go and check whether the table tennis table has been repaired later. Something
you ought to know… Gambians as a rule are not really simple, on the contrary,
most if not all despite a poor education speak at least 3 �" 4 languages
fluently including Mandinka, Fuller, Jolla, Uluff and English. Have
I ever mentioned Gambian driving before? Of course I have but let me expand.
Gambian drivers make Italian drivers look like they have a distinction in the
‘Advanced Driving Course’ … Gambian drivers are that bad and Gambian taxi
drivers are worse than bad, much worse and everyone of them has got a hand
super glued to the horn. I
think I actually saw a taxi earlier with an almost intact windscreen, many are
held together by tape, pins and wire. Back
home again, phew what a long day and back aching non stop. Despite this I walk
to Maddies and meet Callum and Julie from Southend they are on holiday for 10
days. Julie very kindly sprays my back. I discover that she is prescribed
diazepam by her GP but it was confiscated at customs. Both Callum and Julie
agree to sign me in so to speak if I ever need an excuse for using the pool and
sun beds. It
really is an excellent place to get a tan here at Maddies and when I eventually
think both sides are done, I jump in and complete six lengths of the pool
without stopping. When
I arrive back at the compound Adama presents me with a mountain of boiled rice.
I subsequently insist on eating it in my room where I hatch a devilish plan. Henceforth,
I shall only eat Adama’s rice when I want to eat it. This does not mean I am
toughing up but rather growing more devious as each day passes. I
begin by taking rice to my room and then bagging it up for disposal along the
route to my eventual destination. Very often it is handed to someone or another
who is hungrier than I am. I
eat at D’Nubian again and Cova the beret selling bookbinder’s wife places
herself at my table and invites me to join her. I insist that since I was there
first, she might join me if she wants company. She obviously does. We
talk about the Popes role in the Catholic Church, Salvador Dali, the writing of
Ernest Hemmingway and the price of fish in I
was unable to eat everything on my plate this evening but noticed that we had a
power cut at exactly the same time as I had previously ordered pasta the other
evening. Oh
well, it was a very good exchange rate today at 65 Dalassi to the English
pound. I bump into Skinny very briefly but he reeks of skunk and his eyes are
more glazed than I have ever seen them before… Wednesday
05.03.2014 Wake
at 06.00 hrs and got a good feeling about today. No electric since yesterday
evening and no hot water since my original arrival. Adama offers me last nights
rice, I decline. Actually I still have loads in a plastic bag I need to dispose
of. I
catch taxis easily but get ripped off for x2 Dalassi by the second driver. I
complain loudly, the other passengers ask why I am making a fuss for two lousy
Dalassi. One of them asks whether I am an Americano Toobab? I
point out that I am not an American and emphasise that the two Dalassi issue is
a matter of principle. I am fed up of getting ripped off. Then guess what? The
driver offers me five Dalassi as compensation. I decline to accept it but make
it clear I aim to collect the two he owes me later today or tomorrow morning. I
begin the walk to TT with sand spilling over the top of my trainers. It could
actually be this very walk that has done my back in. A man with a red motorbike
piled high with his carpenter’s tools stops and asks where I am going? I
explain I am walking to Tanka Tanka. He offers me a lift and I hop on board
behind him. We then begin one of the most perilous journeys of my entire life,
so far. The
rider nearly lost control so many times. Actually, that was an understatement.
I’m not sure he was ever actually in control. I fall off twice and am showered
with carpenters tools each time. We arrive outside TT and my host poses for a
couple of photographs’ beside his bike and say’s he hopes to see me again
tomorrow. I hope not and make a mental note of needing to set off later
tomorrow morning. Nice friendly gesture though. I
am far too early arriving at TT so sit myself down on a part finished step on a
part finished building, just outside a part finished compound and start to
write up my experiences of the morning so far. I find it necessary so as not to
forget them in the heat and anyway, it is good to while away the minutes before
I start work. That
my friend is one of the many problems we have here. Focussing without
distraction I mean, and the ability to make decisions swiftly is a very hard
thing to do. My
hand is still very inflamed. I wish I knew what it was and what caused it. I
bet Simon would like a picture of it for his skin disorder album. No
breeze yet, I bet it will be another hot one. Fortunately, I have brought x2
small bottles of water with me today and the new sun spray I bought yesterday
which cost me an arm and a leg. Matron
Baba meets me within a few yards of the hospital compound and asks if I am
okay? Apparently he had heard that I was unwell and looked very green. I
establish that he has not yet done anything about extending my visa. I find it
so frustrating and emphasise that I need a letter explaining my role in order
to qualify for a massive reduction in the visa fee… He smiles inanely and
mutters something in Mandinka, Fuller or Wolof before entering his office and
closing the door behind him. Okay,
so what are Gambians good at? 1) Smiling 2) Spitting �" they have made this into an art form 3) Volleyball 4) Saying Hey, Toobab you remember me? It
is amazing just how many patients ask me how I am after being so ill and how
many remember my name is Nev or Neville, not Jesus etc etc… “I
am much better today thank you”…I always reply, which in turn is invariably
responded to with a big smile or a very skilfully directed side spit. Very
nice…. Formalities
over, I organise the best game of volleyball so far with 18 participants which
included two guards. One
of my friends, most specifically the one I posted the letter for stands at the
side of the pitch and pisses on the grass and on my cap. Whist I am not exactly
pleased, there is nothing I can do about it so continue playing.. After one and
a half hours in the full sun I call it a day. Tanka Tanka United lost all but two of the matches today. One
of my greatest achievements today has been to successfully encourage five men all
of whom have been heavily sedated to crawl, or allow themselves to be carried out
of the sun and into the shade. One
of the most psychotic characters here came at me on all fours this morning like
a dog growling. I honestly thought he was going to bite my leg but he only
grabbed my ankle and ranted on in some language or another like a good un… Dutch
Maria is having the day off today and spending some time with her two daughters
who are here on holiday. Autistic Pamela is in a little world all of her own in
the O.T room painting a flower in children’s colouring book and smiling almost
insanely. She looks so happy. Actually she looks quite crazy. English
Linda with the purple braided hair from I
pack the volleyball net away safely and am asked to draw one of the cooks a
picture so that she can embroider it. She points at a native pattern that she wishes
me to copy. I explain that I can draw pictures but am not very good with
patterns. Fortunately she was unable to find a sharp pencil so I was spared
that particular job. Anyway, I thought, she ought to be cooking not
participating in the art class, particularly as everyone here is so very
hungry. I
spend another hour and a half talking with various patients and then go check
what the cooks are preparing or not out by the kitchen. I chat with an old man
preparing rice in a huge pot over an open fire and whilst I am thus engaged,
the Medical Records Clerk approaches
me and explains that he would like to show me around his office. This gentleman
has a mild form of cerebral palsy and a speech impediment but is very
intelligent and proud of his work and role within the While
I have been entertained by the Medical Records Clerk, it seems that I have
missed the psychiatrists visit. Several of my friends are eager to explain that
they have been discharged. I loose x8 friends to discharge today. We are left
with 98 patients since we had two absconders during the night. Phew,
my game of volleyball has certainly taken its toll. Paulina has gone to My
luck was certainly in today because a taxi driver stopped and asked me if I
wanted a ride. I explained I had little money but he both smiled and spat and
invited me to hop in. Even more luck, he dropped me off at the turn table which
saved me one hell of a walk. I
am dropped off almost at the door by the second taxi driver. Much luck indeed. I
arrive at the compound gate but Dembe is nowhere to be seen and so I let myself
in. Adama immediately stops sweeping and offers me a plate of rice with a smile
on her face. I decline and insist that she does not have to cook me rice every
day. I did not mention I still had a large bagged up batch for disposal later
after dark. I think that might well have wiped the smile from her face and
upset her. I
tried to explain that I wanted to try some of the local restaurants and sample
local dishes. She just did not get it at all, mores the pity. Later
I have to break out the Germoline
antiseptic ointment because I seem to have stubbed my big toe and it is now
painfully infected. I am quite a mess actually what with my sub burnt nose,
infected toe and still very swollen and inflamed hand that looks quite awful. I
decide to take a little siesta on my bed in the cool. I
wake up with a start having experienced a very disturbing dream about Jill
being found in bed with Greg, one of my patients back home in Hey,
did I mention being asked if I would buy some de-lousing solution by one of the
female support workers back at TT. Not a very nice support worker in my
opinion. However I felt compelled to watch her as she cut off the matted and
stinking lice infested dreadlocks of a newly admitted female patient. Yuk, how
horrible and unexpected was that? Dozens of crawling things scatter here there
and everywhere when the lock is sliced open. That experience had me itching all
the way home, I can tell ya. No
texts from home in the last two days. I hope everything is okay. On
leaving Kerr Serrin this afternoon intent on checking if Ebrima is back at work
and then sunbathing at Maddies Pool. I saw something that almost made me have a
panic attack. In the forecourt of a car repair station was an old 4x4 Range
Rover type of thing with its rear wheels raised about 18 inches off the ground
on bricks. Underneath it was a little baby of about 12 months or so playing
with an old spanner and banging away at those bricks for all he was worth. Talk
about an accident waiting to happen. To make matters worse and I mean a whole
lot worse, there was two little uns jumping up and down on the back seat. Ebrima
is not at work and his peers who all know me well by now suspect he might have
a problem. The
owner of D’Nubian Restaurant calls me over as I pass and she tells me they are
going to relocate in maybe two weeks time to somewhere on the Highway near the
butchers shop because trade is not so good here. The owner tells me she will
give good discount and if I need a taxi to get there, she would pay my return
fare. My
Scottish acquaintances Callum and Julie are sunbathing by the pool and either
sleeping, drunk or zonked out on Julie’s secret stash of diazepam. Maybe Callum
is in a hypo since he went to great lengths explaining he was an insulin
dependent diabetic. An
Englishman from Today she is called But when she was much younger She was known as Now
did I make that up or is it an old one? It sounded in my head as though it
should be an old one. Callum
and Julie left a few moments ago, they did not disturb me to say goodbye. Okay,
time for a few lengths of the pool I think. I actually manage six full lengths
again without feeling tired. Not bad for someone that has never been that keen
on swimming. I
guess when added to the fifty odd sit ups that Lamin the crazy young tractor
driver helps me with every day by sitting on my feet, plus all the walking I do
each day and physical activities must equate to something. Unfortunately,
all the local gyms and fitness centres are ridiculously expensive. Okay, time
to turn over and grill the other side now. The
walk home, well not home exactly, but you know what I mean was quite eventful
in an unremarkable way but it might give some idea of just how bad my hand has
become and stop you from thinking I am some kind of hypochondriac. Well
firstly, some chap, yes a Gambian came running up and told me I need some
medicine for my hand. He diagnosed it as ‘a
problem with the skin’ and that the treatment should not cost more than 450
Dalassi. I thanked him and told him where to go. Next,
I bumped into Autistic Pamela the German would be therapist who prodded my very
red and sun burnt nose. She said that she had seen me briefly earlier and had
hung the drawing I had previously completed on the wall for everyone to admire.
I said that was very kind of her, which I suppose it was. She also commented on
my hand before heading off in the opposite direction. Okay
so my left hand is now the talk of the I
arrive back at the compound and Dembe is sweeping leaves. The area around my
shed is wet with water from when he recently gave the 4 x 4 it’s most recent
bath. Now get this, that is at least twice every day these vehicles get a good
wash and brush up. Dembe tells me that Adama has made me a big pot of rice
before she left earlier this evening. I
aim to eat about 19.00 hours so must leave by 18.30. I must also dispose of the
rice from breakfast which has been wrapped inside x2 plastic bags and left in
my sink all day. Plus I need to make it look like I have made an impact on
Adama’s rice this evening. That’s x2 bags I need to dispose of tonight and
maybe another tomorrow morning. This
is not a new observation folks but every time I previously thought of it, I
failed to write it down… Many if not most of the patients at TT have badly
split lips… I take it from the sun. In that respect then, I share a certain
similarity with my friends the patients. Few if any of the staff suffer from
the same problem it seems, but then why would they? Most of them spend the best
part of the day sitting in the shade. The
witch doctor or medicine man chappy was around TT again this morning, the same
one as before… very tall with a black cloak over a white robe and one of the
most peculiar hats I have ever seen. He has many different sized wooden spoons
strung on a thong around his neck and loads of little packets of something or
other wrapped in leaves pinned here and there. He certainly looks very
impressive when he walks up and down behind me. He smelt of rice, I am sure of
it but then, everything seems to smell of rice these days… I
eat at D’ Nubian again and have mixed seafood boiled in foil with guess what?
Yep boiled rice.. Yeah, absolutely fantastic, made even better because I dined
without the Basque Beret Manufacturers PA being present and interfering. D’
Nubian ‘Boss Lady’ very kindly deducted 10 Dalassi from my bill for being a
good customer. We had another electricity failure whilst eating and I have now
come to expect it. On
my walk home in the pitch black, except for the headlight glare of hundreds of
cars ‘mainly taxis’ none of which have working headlights but hey, that is
another story… Just as I was about to cross the road at one of the junctions, I
was distracted by a ‘bumster’ and
fell headlong down a two foot deep hole in the pavement that turned out to be
an uncovered drain. Oh’ my word.. Thankfully my reflexes are still pretty damn
good but nevertheless, I still land face down and my bad hand takes the worst
of my fall. I also graze my ring finger and there seems to be blood
everywhere.. Not
surprisingly perhaps, the bumster took off, but oddly enough several witnesses
claimed to have seen everything and were happy to provide statements if
necessary. I thanked each one but assured them I would be fine. Almost
forgot to record that I split the offending rice with the man with barely any
hands which he blames on acid burns and two street kids who insisted they were
hungry and despite my offering, initially said they preferred cash.. Since
then, I have often wondered whether they ate it themselves or sold it on… I
receive two texts from home tonight, one from Jill and one from Richard my one
and only son… Okay,
let’s take a rain check of injuries etc before retiring to bed; after all it is
only 10 past 9 at night… 1) Inflamed and rather odd looking left hand 2) Badly grazed left ring finger from falling into drain 3) Very badly sun burnt nose 4) Infected big toe right foot 5) Back aching and very stiff along its entirety 6) Burst blisters on both feet 7) Something similar to my left hand problem is beginning
to develop on my right hand 8) My eyesight seems to have deteriorated even more and I
am now forced to read with the aid of a magnifying glass 9) Okay, I know this is an old one but my iliac-sacral
joint is playing up again. This particular ailment was first diagnosed by Dr.
Mary McCracken in 1995 Phew, I could seriously do with a hot bath or a shower
and the attention of an osteopath as soon as possible. We now have no electricity at the compound and are
functioning albeit slowly on solar reserves. ‘Hurry over
Jill, I want to show you my mosquito net’ The electric is said to be on before I fall asleep.
But by now, I am not really interested. Let me try to describe my part of the
compound here at Kerr Serrin… My hut consists of two rooms, the bedroom and the
toilet/shower room. The fact the shower and often the toilet do not work is of
no great consequence but hey ho… Why don’t you try to live like this for a week
and still be smiling.. These two tiny rooms are separated by a flimsy plastic
curtain which is held up by a 1970’s MFI device and a stick. We enter my part of the compound by a heavy metal full
length glazed door. As previously mentioned, my privacy is maintained by a
flimsy but otherwise adequate full length plastic curtain. My bed is a double
or should I say two singles pushed side to side. I have a bedside locker which is falling apart nearest
to me and a stacked set of shelves which I now suspect is an incomplete carcass
of its polar opposite. Situated on top of this, there is an old, nay let’s call
it ancient Bulgarian type electric fan which is minus a plug. Immediately next
to this monstrosity, is my only source of light, a bedside light where the bulb
protrudes upwards through the shade and looks most odd. Above these contraptions, there is what looks like an
air conditioning device that is not only broken but has never actually been
wired up or connected into the electricity supply. Working from left to right then, we have my 1970’s MFI
wardrobe that currently contains most of my clothes etc. Next to that is a full
length and slightly fly blown mirror which I regularly use to admire my svelte
and well honed body. My toilet area and not surprisingly most of my
toiletries are hidden from immediate view by the delicately hung dividing
screen. Continuing in a clockwise direction, we find two very
naff coat hooks and three African carved wooden masks. Next to these we have
the light switch that has failed to work since day 2 of my arrival when neither
Dembe nor I could remove the blown bulb. Above my bed I have an African print and a window
cloaked in a curtain depicting different kinds of sea faring vessel. Finally,
there is another small abstract art print which completes the circumnavigation
of my shed and arriving back at the defunct fan and table lamp. ‘Things I
must try to do’ 1) Visit Poly Clinic at 2) Visit Edward Francis Small Teaching Hospital 3) Arrange the extension of my visitors visa via Matron
Baba Thursday
6th MARCH 2014 I
am woken at 04.00hrs with pain in my left hand and badly grazed finger. We have
no electric so I check for red lines running up my arm via torch light. At
07.00 I am out of bed and attend to personal hygiene which includes applying
Germoline to my big toe and grazed finger. I decide not to spray my hands today
and see whether this helps the inflammation. For
a moment I consider texting Jill and asking for her to bring antibiotics,
antihistamine cream and anything else that might help. I even consider
attending the polyclinic at I
will set off for TT soon but first need a cup of tea. Dembe is busy doing you
know what… Yeah sweeping… Now
let me tell you a little more about my hostess, Anna. Well you already know
that she is Dutch, old blonde and wears red lipstick and nail polish. She is
also 75 years young. She has had one hip replaced and the remaining one is due
to be replaced in about six months or so. In November 2013 she experienced a
major heart attack and bears a scar similar to Nikolai's in Anna
speaks good English and has a wicked sense of humour but I think I would rather
argue with Harry the guard dog than with her. She
is an amazing organiser and single handedly pulled Tanka Tanka from primeval
times to somewhere that I imagine early 19th century asylums once
resembled. Anna has more or less lived in the Anna
has three children and I think her husband is dead. I
am starting to miss Anna already. Apparently she founded the Tanka Tanka
Foundation more or less on her own and the President of the Gambia wad
previously wanted to name the hospital after her in effect, to name it ‘The
Anna Bouman Psychiatric Hospital’ but Anna declined the honour and the immortality
this might have brought her in favour of the Mandinka word Tanka Tanka meaning
to ‘step forward’ tanka as far as I
am aware means foot… Thinking
about it, Anna has managed to achieve so much for the mentally unwell of the The
taxis are easy this morning but forget to try and claim the 2 Dalassi I am owed
and I would not have recognised the driver anyway, so I decide to forget about
it… At
the rate I am going, I will arrive at TT far too early and so I decide to slow
down a bit on the dusty final leg… Unfortunately for me, x2 hospital staff
catch up with me and what do ya know? Each of them commented on my swollen
hand. I was hoping they might say ‘go home’ or ‘you are far too early’ but no
they were just concerned about the size and colour of my inflamed or infected
hand.. At the time I had also begun to develop red angry looking blotches on my
arms. It looks like some form of eczema or a severe allergic reaction to
something… I
am beginning to think my malaria tablets might be responsible and plan to quit
taking them from tomorrow morning.. On the positive side, I have only been
bitten 5 �" 6 times by mosquitoes since arriving here… I
arrive at TT to find Baba handing out single cigarettes from a large carrier
bag. At first, I thought there was some kind of trouble because of the size of
the crowd gathered around him. He
greets me and I proceed to explain my concern regarding my hand/s and he agrees
to arrange for me to be seen at Many
of the new wounds look initially like pressure sores but I can not understand
why this might be the case because everyone is ambulant. After much
consideration and hints dropped by passing patients, I arrive at the conclusion
that many of these new wounds are the result of prolonged mechanical restraint. Tea
or something and stale bread is handed out to the patients by me before the
medication round commences. I deliberately distance myself from this three
times and possibly four times daily ritual on the grounds that I consider it
too hit and miss, too dangerous and too…… Oh’ no, I notice two guys
simultaneously vomiting in the sand and a further two who appear unconscious
and covered in a film of sand and dust… Hello
Mr. Neville Pettitt, have you got any cigarettes today “Yes
but only after playing volleyball okay” I reply. We
don’t like it here, they give us bad medicine and then they sacrifice us but we
will win in the …. Hey
my name is I
subsequently organise a volley ball match and we play for one and a half hours
in the sun. I also loose every single game. Everyone,
including the sizable watching crowd applaud when I name the participating
teams Tanka Tanka United and Dutch
Maria asks to spend some time with me because she wants me to act as translator
for her forthcoming teaching session. She aims to teach something relevant to
substance misuse and ‘the cycle of
change’ Lonneka
the Dutch psychiatric nurse has arrived and I introduce myself. It turns out
that she will not be staying at Anna’s as anticipated. She does however seem
quite pleasant and joined in the last couple of games, as did Dutch Maria. Some
time later, I sit with them both and Matron Baba and help her re-write her
proposed lesson plan, or at least make it more English speaker friendly. This
is followed by a brainstorming session on what to include in the long
anticipated ‘Induction Pack’ that I had suggested shortly after my first
arrival. In
the break that naturally followed, I reminded Baba of my need for a visa
extension and he asks me to keep reminding him… It is now too late in the day
for me to travel to Before
I set off for home x3 admissions arrive at the main gate, as usual accompanied
by a large police presence.. In spite of this, I set off down the long and
dusty track… Minutes into what is always a difficult journey, a car horn sounds
behind me and as I turn to offer some kind of profanity, I notice it came from an
open topped and overcrowded police truck. I am subsequently offered a lift to
the highway and accept gratefully… Did
I mention that Dutch Maria told me that I smell badly? I
in turn, pointed out that after playing volleyball for most of the morning and
have not had any hot water since arriving in the country from England, and
having not had any electric for several weeks, am surprised that she has only
just noticed I smell… When
I arrive back at Kerr Serrin, I ask Adama if there is a washing machine at
Ann’s compound. She responded with a big smile and nodded affirmatively. She
then led me to Anna’s private bathroom and utility area. Unfortunately though
my delight was very short lived when she proceeded to tell me that neither she
nor Dembe knew how to work it and anyway, it had broken just before Anna had
left for Adama
did however offer to hand wash my clothes which was a fantastic and very brave
gesture. Initially though I was in two minds whether to accept, but finally
relented when it dawned on me that if my kit remained in such a filthy state
until I was due to return to the UK, they would probably be seen as a public
health hazard. I subsequently handed over x4 pairs of shorts and x8 tops. Ha Dutch Marie, I thought, just let’s
see who smells the sweetest tomorrow. Autistic
Pamela totally blanked me earlier, oh well… I
walk to Maddies Beach Club and grab a sun-lounger. Callum and Julie are there
and both seem much more alert than yesterday. Actually they admitted being
zonked out by booze and had even missed there booked massage and got badly sun burnt
in the process. Callum
kindly agreed to spray my back and we had a natter before I eventually settle
down on the far side of the pool from them both. It seems I had been right in
my assumption that their recent stupor had been down to booze. I
decide that tonight I will eat at ‘Two Rays Gourmet Bar and Restaurant’ where
Jill and I had previously in 2013 enjoyed exceptionally good cocktails,
particularly the margaritas and good food. I
might also try and get an early night since I am back on duty tomorrow. Oh I
forgot to mention that earlier I gave Nurse Paulina a copy of ‘The Nursing
Journal’ which I had brought with me and which she in turn much appreciated…
She demonstrated her appreciation by writing down the words ‘thank you’ on a
sliver of paper in Uluff My
memory is getting worse, I almost forgot to mention that Scottish Julie whom I
met by the pool at Maddies gave me a tube of hydrocortisone cream for my hand
and x4 sticking plasters for my infected finger. Now wasn’t that a nice
gesture. It
has only just this moment occurred to me that there is so much piss, vomit,
puss and blood mixed with the sand in the compound here at Tanka Tanka, it is
probably possible to catch almost any bloody thing if an open wound or even a scratch
got dirty. Yeah, there must surely be years of accumulated, most probably
contaminated piss, vomit, pus and blood to name just a few bodily secretions.
Plus, let us not also forget all the tears, sweat and saliva that have been
shed here. Did
I mention last night I spent half an hour watching two teams of men playing
football on a full sized pitch next to the I
inform Dembe that the Dutch girl Lonneka will not be staying at the Kerr Serrin
compound. He replied ‘Oh that is not good’ and continued sweeping dust and
leaves around aimlessly. Adama
had left by the time I returned but I could see that my clothes were hanging
out to dry. Oh’ and guess what? She had also prepared a massive mountain of
boiled rice for me. Surely,
I thought this just can’t go on, I had pretty much run out of hints and excuses
and I was also increasingly conscious of the trail of plastic bags brimming
with boiled rice that led from just around the corner from the compound to just
before the road that leads to Maddies Beach Club and bar. Isn’t
it funny how certain things make one smile, or laugh even? Take these for
example… A sign outside Afrik Pharmacy reads “We Treat, God Cures” And by the side of the road
on a huge hoarding that reads… “Go on folks treat yourself to a NAFF
House We build NAFF Houses every day” My
eye sight seems to have deteriorated considerably since arriving in the My
friend the Medical Records Clerk apparently tried to get hold of me earlier and
wanted to spend more time explaining his role and the various systems he had
introduced during his 26 years of working at Tanka Tanka but it seems I was
otherwise busy. I
saw the turtle for the first time this evening; remember the one in the garden
pond I told you about earlier. I also remember something else about Anna… She
once told me “anyone can get anything through Gambian Customs” She even
admitted having once smuggled two parrots into the country with one being
stuffed up each of her sleeves… So there my friend, you have it. Back
at the compound again and it is just after 20.00hrs having eaten at 2Rays
Gourmet Restaurant as planned. I had grilled chicken and boiled rice which was
actually very nice indeed. Unfortunately though, Cova the very self opinionated
Basque beret manufacturers PA who was born in 1965 she tells me collared me
just as I was about to sit down and check out the menu. Cova
ordered herself a beer and sat directly opposite me at my table chattering away
like nobody’s business and expressing her opinions on just about everything.
Boy, do I pity her husband, no wonder he has an aversion to travelling and
packs poor Cova off at every opportunity he gets. I can understand why he finds
book binding so very stimulating… I
forgot to take Adama’s rice for walkabout and eventual dumping which is a great
shame because my friend with no hands stopped me and explained just how good it
was. I
am still wearing my Baba Mata bracelet despite having seen countless storks on
my travels. Maybe I should have cut it off after my first sighting as per
tradition. Maybe if I had done, I would not be suffering from quite so many
physical problems? Nah’ I don’t think so but have I told you about… (lol). I
have actually felt quite cold today for the first time. Other folk, mainly
locals have commented on the temperature… I received another text from Jill a
little while ago and I am delighted to hear that Richard is receiving lots of
job offers and that Bex is getting on with her screen play writing. I
route out a tube of hydrocortisone cream from amongst my assortment of
medications and apply some to my left hand, plus some Germoline to my right big
toe and some moisturizer to my burnt nose. There, ready for anything but mainly
my bed but first reply to Jill’s most recent text. Please
note, the hole that I fell into recently was a drain, thankfully a dry one. I
plan to photograph it one day, just in case I can put in a claim for injuries
and damage sustained. Back
at Kerr Serrin, we are now on solar energy. Apparently, the electricity went
off several hours ago. Dembe is sitting at his night station armed with his
sweeping brush. A
brief moment of panic as I realise I must get to the rice before Anna arrives
in the morning….. Night night. Oops
I just realised that I did not see my good friend Lamin 56 the tractor driver
at Tanka Tanka today and wonder whether he was one of those discharged
yesterday… I
also remember Cova the Basque beret woman telling me she “had been eaten alive
by mosquitoes” which I found rather odd since I have been bitten by lots of
things except for mosquitoes in any real number. Question
to Myself Am I enjoying myself? I
am not really sure … Sometimes maybe but I am not able to relax even just a
little bit. Something seems to happen every minute or so and some of the tribes
are so brittle and ready to explode at the slightest provocation or more often
some misinterpretation. I am regularly called upon to break up some argument or
fight which is not without some risk. Take this morning for example. On
my arrival at TT, I could hear words being exchanged between Baba and a male
patient. The patient by the way was a very big guy indeed and given that Baba
was quite tiny in comparison, I felt compelled to investigate… The verbal
exchange grew louder and more intense until I thought the patient was about to
lash out at Baba my own intervention might be required. However, just as I was about to intervene,
instead of striking out at Baba as anticipated the patient stood smartly to
attention and saluted Baba before asking for forgiveness on bended knee. Baba
subsequently turned and smiled in my direction but believe me, he was shaking
in his flip flops and as far as I am concerned, had completely misread the
situation. Baba
by the way appears to be somewhat sexist and apparently now refuses to shake
hands with Dutch Maria or Lonneka but will offer them mint tea if it suits him. Lonneka
on her long overland travel from This
decision seems even more important given that no-one seems to have any idea
whatsoever what provisions are already available and given that so much rubbish
has already been stored everywhere. It
would be great if we could simply ‘remove
and burn rather than collect, remove and dump’ which seems to serve no
useful purpose in the long run. What we really need is some kind of formal
structure and loads of add on’s. Food of
course is always welcome, as everyone is constantly hungry here… Friday I
wake early and get up before Dembe so as to make it look like I have had my
breakfast rice from yesterday morning. Remember this folks, once my rice has been
cooked and then kept in the open air, admittedly with a lid over the top, it
can often remain undisturbed for over 24 hours… Crazy eh? No wonder so many
folk succumb to Banjul Belly. Not
a good start to a new day, I place a loaded plate of rice on my bed whilst
boiling the kettle for tea. Upon my return, I notice the plate and my mattress
to be swarming with little ants. At first I thought they were lice or bed bugs
but no, they were definitely ants. As
you might imagine, I swiftly bagged up the rice and washed the plate and
spoon…Incidentally, I had previously noticed an active nest of ants when I very
first arrived that seemed very happy burrowing underneath the door post to my
little tin roofed shed. At the time I had hoped that if I leave them alone,
they might reciprocate… Lesson learnt, never trust an ant. This could be war. Dembe
is well into his dusting and sweeping routine by the time I make my second pot
of tea. I
must be at TT for at least 08.30 since Baba warned me not to be late as my transport
to Banjul Teaching Hospital has been arranged. In any event, I take my whole
day’s money allowance plus a few Dalassi extra just in case I am required to
pay for medical fees or prescription charges. I
spray everywhere except my hands and nose for what to me at least seem obvious
reasons. I double check my bum bag and hold all making sure I have the key to
my shed handy, plus my suitcase padlock key. I also check that I have hand
sanitizer, tissues and x4 Loperimide tablets just in case. I also ensure I have
two pairs of rubber gloves, sun spray, two bottles of water, today’s cigarette
supply and a few extra bits and bobs. In
addition to everything listed above, I make sure my mobile phone is charged as
this comes in handy for telling the time and acting as a calculator and for
sneaking the occasional covert photograph. All
my clothing today is clean, I intend showing Dutch Maria a thing or two.
Actually, I quite like Dutch Maria; she is very dedicated and has expressed a
desire to take over from Anna when she eventually retires. I
don’t think Anna will ever retire voluntarily however and as far as I am
concerned, is certainly far from relinquishing her current matriarchal role.
Maybe though when she eventually dies, Dutch Maria might find her niche… I
leave earlier than usual to get to TT in good time and wave bye bye to Dembe
who is still busy sweeping.. Just as I am about to leave the compound, I am
required to dash back to the toilet.. I
am very unlucky with the taxi’s today for some reason and eventually arrive at
TT with x1 minute to spare. Baba is not waiting for me at the gate and I am
required to seek him out. I think he has forgotten about my needing to go to Autistic
Pamela approaches me and tells me “No ball games today” apparently she is
running a group and she wants everyone to attend and to participate.
Afterwards, a DIP group or ‘Drug Induced Psychosis’ group is planned. I tell
her “no worries, but I am going to Autistic
Pamela then disclosed that she had once had the same problem and advised me to
stop taking it immediately. She also suggested that I start taking Fancidat which should cost no more than
80 Dalassi and it is only necessary to take when the risk of contracting
malaria is very high. The
journey to When
we arrive at the Edward Francis Small Teaching Hospital, I am seen almost
immediately by a Cuban physician who confirms both my own original and Autistic
Pamela’s diagnosis. No more Doxycycline for me. The doctor is the senior medic
for the whole hospital today but is very thorough and quite relaxed. He
prescribes me a course of antihistamine tablets, a course of antibiotics and a
course of steroids. My
Cuban doctor asks me if I have any other problems before I go? I slip off my
Croc and reveal my right big toe. My Cuban doctor wanted to prod it with a
hypodermic needle to release the pus and offers me a penicillin injection. I
look at his syringe and think f… that, I would rather loose my foot. My Cuban
doctor told me that was quite possible without antibiotics. I told him I had
some back at my compound. He wished me well.. I
needed to find a pharmacy but the only one I knew was in Kerr Serrin, the one with
sign outside stating �" We treat but only God cures. I
have no needles left so will need to find a restaurant later this evening with
toothpicks and operate on myself. Osman, my escort has left me to go and
collect the supplies for Tanka Tanka which seem to consist of clean laundry,
palm oil for cooking in huge barrels and soap. This
place, the Osman
tells me he has five children by two women, both his wives he hastened to add.
However, I found his repeated stroking of my leg whilst in the battered old
ambulance just a bit disconcerting. I
am desperate get my medication as soon as possible and then to lie down. The
week end arrives early for me today. I must check on Monday whether the table
tennis table has been repaired. I
have a strong suspicion that Edward, the Tanka Tanka carpenter may have
deliberately broken this himself out of spite just because it was the creation
of the three Dutch Toobabs. Edward is actually not a very nice guy. I will
expand on this viewpoint later. At the moment, I am getting increasingly
frustrated sitting around waiting to go home and can see no reason for the
delay. All the supplies have been loaded. Before
eventually setting off, Osman told me I would need to sit in the back of the
ambulance because we have a very fat lady passenger who needs to sit in the
front with him and the driver. No
problem, but can we get a move on? I don’t feel well I explain. I subsequently
climb in the back with the supplies and make good use out of the small single
folding seat. A second or two later, three other men climb in beside me. The
next hour was an absolute nightmare, seventeen other folk mostly women and two
nurses climbed in as well at various points along the route. It was so cramped
and uncomfortable in the back of that vehicle, it was unreal. Made much worse
since I had offered up my little seat to one of the older women. What
an incredible noise they all made together and then it dawned on me, Osman was
running a nice little money earner in his regular weekly ambulance taxi scam.
He had turned the ambulance into a larger than average bush taxi and he and the
driver were each laughing. The
journey back to Tanka Tanka would probably have been quite scenic as I think we
followed the coast road. I caught the occasional glimpse of the sea as we sped
along and during the many drop offs along the way. We
eventually reach the roadside Tanka Tanka sign, black letters on sky blue
painted metal, the one and only familiar thing along the entire I
do good because I manage to catch one that was prepared to drop me at my front
door so to speak and I actually pay less than usual. On
the journey, I saw a young woman accidentally drop her baby on the road.
Actually it fell or slipped out of the back cradle and did not seem to move and
I could do nothing. The
driver nearly got us both creamed as we approached Kerr Serrin and the only
other familiar landmark, the large metal Vimto container. I entered the metal
security gate and both Adama and Dembe are sweeping and dusting. They each
enquire about my hand so I fill them in with all the details. Adama smiles and
asks if I would like rice. I decline and tell her I ate in The
first thing I do on entering my room is check the bed for ants and any other
things I Might not wish to share with. Bed seems okay so go and check money is
where I left it. Dembe
informs me he is going to have a shower and then to pray. He tells me he will
pray for my hand. I thank him. Before
setting off for No-one
knows why Ana killed her baby but she is believed to have been psychotic at the
time. Ana has two armed guards assigned to her all the time. I am told that she
will be here indefinitely. She is 24 years old and never talks or mentions the
incident to anyone as far as I am told. Despite this seemingly widely held
view, Ana has apparently acquired some insight since she has been here. How
anyone can be sure of that if she refuses to talk about it, I don’t know. Ana
spends most of here time washing plastic cups, bowels and beakers and making
tea for the staff in and around the staff room. That is probably why I have
only seen her a few times. I very rarely go near the staff room. I
go to collect my medication not knowing how much I might need to pay. I walk to
Afrik Pharmacy and am handed a seven day supply of all my medication in a
plastic bag. The woman serving asked me for 1000 Dalassi. Now that is a rip off
if ever there was one. I Most certainly feel well and truly ripped off. That is
more than a whole day’s allowance. The buggers had better work that’s all I can
say. I
moisturize my face and neck and lay down on my bed for a while. I vow to avoid
the sun for the rest of the day. Easier said than done though. I
just received a text from Richard, very pleasant and most welcome. I text him
back immediately. I ask him to ask his mum for moist wipes and eye brow
scissors when she visits next month. I look very old, dry and bushy. More
Things That Gambians are Very Good At · Saying sorry · Balancing things on their heads · Dropping their babies · Sweeping and dusting · Moving piles of refuse, rubbish and rubble and placing
it somewhere else to later find again and move on again, in a never ending
process of circles. Before
I left Tanka Tanka for I
ask one of the guards how many patients and am told maybe 107 or 110 well that
could mean anything but almost certainly that several patients will not have a
bed tonight. I
kind of miss young Lamin number 13, the tractor driver if he ever was a tractor
driver that is. I try not to dwell on things and help Dutch Maria do dressings.
Some of the new wounds are very nasty indeed. Hey, did you know that black boys
are pink inside? I take a few pictures with full consent. Back
at the compound after a relatively short rest on my bed, I begin to feel a
little happier about things, at least there is no ant infestation in my bed.
Nevertheless, it is such a shame my hands have been so bad. I
decide to make a cup of tea. Apart from the birds and some banging in the
distance, the odd motor horn every now and again, everything is quite quiet
here. I don’t count the gentle hum of the solar powered fountain and cooling
sound of the water, or for that matter Dembe’s dusting and swish, swish
swishing with his broom. He
notices me writing by the pool and brings my laundered clothing neatly folded
and wrapped in an old blue and white check pillow case. I
must give Adama something before I leave and Dembe too I suppose. I check my
watch and double check against the watch function on my mobile. It is now
approaching 1800hours this Friday evening. The cat with no name refuses to move
from my chair, so I make do with another one. I
begin to reflect on the day so far and suddenly my mind is drawn to the very
abusive black geezer that told me to get out of his way very loudly. He was
driving a newish BMW half on and half off the road on to the pavement area
‘supposed pavement area that is’. I gave him an old fashioned Toobab sign and
told him to go wash his mouth out with hydrochloric acid, then learn to drive
properly. Next
second, his car mounted the pedestrian walkway completely and got stuck against
a boulder and a heap of piled rubbish. Earlier
I was about to tell you more about Edward the TT carpenter and laziest OT
helper ever. Edward walks around everywhere with earphones glued to his ears.
He had always tried to ingratiate himself and was a bit of a slime ball. Edward
and I fell out big time not long after our first meeting. This
actually occurred several days ago. I remember hearing a commotion coming from
one of the male block bedrooms. One of the patients beckoned me over in a very
excited manner indeed. His apparent urgency prompted me to run the entire width
of the compound with Edward hard on my heels behind. Inside
the dormitory, I found three very angry patients who were each screaming loudly
at a fourth who was obviously very heavily sedated and who in his chemically induced
stupor was in the process of pissing on the floor and over a couple of beds and
mattresses. Fortunately,
I was able to take a lot of heat out of the situation but Edward started to
rant and to rave like some fascist dictator at the confused, disorientated and
increasingly frightened patient. Edward then began to slap and punch the poor
guy who was unable to defend himself. The whole thing was so surreal. I
yelled at Edward to stop but two of the other guys urged him to teach the one
with the empty bladder a real lesson. Without thinking, I pushed Edward into a
corner and stood shaking between him and his victim. One of the two observers
pulled me by an arm out into the bright sunlight and told me that I was in the
wrong to interfere and that a good beating was the only way to teach something. Neither
of the two got any further cigarettes from me for that and when I had calmed
down sufficiently, I told Edward in no uncertain terms that if I ever saw or
heard anything like that again, I would report him to Baba without any
hesitation and take a photograph as evidence. I additionally pointed out that I
would make sure he lost his job. Edward
has maintained his distance to date but acknowledges me if we happen to pass. An
Interesting Observation Baba
always greets me with a handshake but according to Dutch Maria, he has never
shaken her hand in greeting since the time of my first arrival three weeks ago. For
some unobvious reason I found myself laughing at no-one or no-thing in
particular but myself earlier today as I trudged along the dirt track towards
TT… In my head I had devised something of a random and rather odd little mantra
that spun round and round in my head… It goes something like this. “Two new hornbills and a rather dowdy looking thrush
type thing” There
now, maybe that gives some kind of indication of just how hard it is to recall
even the most simple of things, or maybe not. The
drums have started up again and the Muslims are being called to prayer. There
are birds eating the ants off the open kitchen surfaces which saves me brushing
them off, but it seems an endless and thankless task if you ask me. Friday
7th March 2014.. 21.11hrs I
have just returned to the compound after a very tasty ‘seafood brochette’ which
consisted of mixed seafood and vegetables on skewers. My enjoyment was
interrupted though by that increasingly and all too familiar Cova from the
Basque region of Once
again, she sits down uninvited opposite me and orders her beer and main course
from the menu. I don’t mind admitting that I feel just a little flabbergasted
and begin to winder whether I am being stalked. Common sense though kicks in
and I find myself believing that it kind of makes sense having a male presence
around and that it is probably much safer for her being in my company than
being on her own. She
actually admitted just before departing this evening that she always tends to
feel much safer with a male presence near by. Tomorrow
evening she apparently leaves for Andalucía and her ancient manuscript loving
husband and of course her job as the PA to the worlds largest Basque Beret
producing company. Unfortunately, she is also concerned where she might keep
her luggage safe. I
offer my room at Anna’s Kerr Serrin Compound if there is no other alternative,
but sincerely hope there is. Cova reminds me of some kind of bird in both
manner and appearance…Maybe an Egret, or an African Darter or something
similar. Upon
my eventual return to the compound, Dembe is sweeping the remains of the most
recent breeze, maybe three or four leaves at most into the makings of what
might one day become a much larger pile and that which will undoubtedly be
moved somewhere else tomorrow or the day after. Dembe
informs me in-between swishing that there is no electric except for solar
lighting and expects this to crash very soon. I get a text from Jill explaining
that she plans to bring certain supplies with her when she eventually comes out
here. My only other entertainment for the evening is 1) Watching a huge ant going round and round the rim of
one of Anna’s wooden cigarette ashtrays which are meant only for visitor purposes
given that she has a nicotine aversion and neither of us smoke…. There it goes
again, around and around 2) Counting my antihistamine tablets over and over 3) Using one of the half dozen or so tooth picks
obtained from
various restaurants on the way home to puncture the
infected right big toe, relieve the pus and apply a thick layer
of Germoline ointment.. If this does not work, I plan on
starting my antibiotics first thing in the morning. Just before retiring at 21.33 hours, Dembe approaches
me with broom in hand and informs me that one of his fathers relatives died
earlier today aged either 86 or 90 years and he needs to attend the funeral to
represent the family but does not feel able unless he is given Anna’s
permission. Given that Anna is not likely to return for at least
6-8 weeks, I advise him to go ahead and attend the funeral and assure him that
I am quite capable of fending for myself whilst he is away. Dembe say’s he will
think about it and then disappears to be heard showering the outside perimeter
wall. Not surprisingly, I begin to question whether Dembe
and many others like him are either very slow, or thick or whether they
actually have more than their fair share of marbles about them!!! Both hands but mainly my left one look a little better
but still hurt and remember folks, better is a relative concept out here. I
truly believe that my entire arm could be rotting off at the arm pit and no-one
would really give a toss. Many would undoubtedly say “Sorry” but that’s yer lot
as far as genuine compassion is concerned. “Seen ya Toobab, now let’s move on to a more
interesting case, unless you can pay up front of course”. Tracks by Bob Dylan, Chrissie Hynde of ‘The
Pretenders’ and Leonard Cohen have all just been played on the local radio
station. Now how amazing is that? Interestingly, Gary Glitter’s ‘Wannabe in my Gang’ has
just been taken out of general circulation here. Several years too late for
some and far too early for many of the younger ones here. Those that might
benefit from a moral guide, or mentor or protector I decide to retire to bed at 21.57 with the intention
of relaxing on the beach tomorrow or by a pool somewhere. The ant I mentioned
earlier is still circumnavigating the ashtray as I go to sleep. Night night… Saturday March 8th 2014 Awake very early but not sure of the exact time, my
watch has stopped because I have not been wearing it for the last week and my
mobile phone is on charge at the foot of my bed somewhere. I drift in and out
of sleep until I wake more fully to the sound of warbling, whistling and
chattering birds and the gentle almost hypnotic swish, swish swishing of Dembe
wielding his sweeping brush somewhere outside on the court yard floor. The time is precisely 06.40. Oh, another little
observation by the way, and I am not sure why I have never mentioned this
before but always before the patients have their very meagre, often disgusting
looking breakfast, tooth brushes are handed out and then later collected back
in again. Often there are not enough of them to go anywhere near around,
therefore some are shared several times over whilst others seem to prefer to
use a tooth stick, the kind many folk are seen chewing everywhere. These
usually comprise of a small twig. Other folk and there are many of them I can
assure you that choose not to brush their teeth at all, or attend to any other
aspect of oral hygiene. Now I am no dentist but have seen some awful dental
neglect in the I sit by the pool at 07.00 with a cup of black tea.
This has now come to be something of a morning ritual. My hands are still very
red and angry looking but I do believe there might already be a little
improvement. I neck another antihistamine tablet. The bottle of Doxycycline is consigned to the holdall
which hidden inside my suitcase, which is secreted inside the old wardrobe. Hey, I have become quite adept at adapting scarce
resources and other thrown away and discarded rubbish items. Take just now for
example I have just placed my squeezed teabag ‘Twinings’ of course on
top of a fallen leaf to save the table cloth getting marked, clever eh? There is an unusually cold breeze in the air and the
cat with no name is again asleep on my chair. Harry the killer dog is on what
would normally be my second choice and so I am forced to sit on the opposite
side of the huge table I previously helped the Dutch guys create. The big toe on my right foot is throbbing in time with
my pulse but it does not hurt as bad as it did before I performed open toe
surgery with my little wooden toothpick by candle light the night before. Another cup of tea and how I wish that bloody cat with
no name would get of its arse and move away from my chair. Maybe it’s dead
since I can not make out any visible respirations. I neck another antibiotic tablet and note that it is
exactly 08.00 hours. Something does not feel quite right but I am unable to put
my finger on it for a few seconds and then it hit me. Ah’ yes there is a
distinct lack of swish, swish swishing. Where the hell are you Dembe? He yells back from
across the courtyard, “I am going to the
shopping” I could just make him out as he was manoeuvring an old bicycle
through the iron security gate. If I was him, I would have walked myself
because the bike he was presumably intending to use looked as though it might
fall apart any minute. However, roughly five minutes later both Dembe and his
bicycle return intact. He appears to have bought himself a baguette, Gambian
baguettes by the way are almost as good as any French one any day. Now then, what must I do today? Simple, absolutely
nothing except take my pills and try to find an internet café and send Mark
back home and of course Jill an e-mail. Before Dembe resumes dusting and sweeping, he fills
his drinking beaker with water from the tap behind my shed. I presume he is
going to brew tea. It suddenly dawns upon me that I might need to obtain fresh
supplies of Loperimide from the ‘Afrika
Pharmacy’ down along the highway, remember the one that boasts “it can treat but only God can heal.” I have not noticed Adama around today, maybe she has a
day off? Whatever the case, at least my belly will get a break from her rice
and there will not be any little tell tale plastic bags with my DNA on them to
further litter the Dembe has just mopped the floor around my feet and
chair. Is that a hint for me to move, I wonder? I subsequently ask him if I
should move. He replies “yes”. I begin to gather my bits from the table top I
previously helped the Dutch guys to build, these included my tea cup, magnifying glass, spare pen and
note book. Just as I half rose to leave the area, Dembe say’s “no sit no move.” That is the way it is
here with both Dembe and Adama and just bout every other Gambian I have so far
met. I wish I could speak Mandinka, Wolof, Fuller, Jalla, Manjago or Seracali. Oh no, Adama has just arrived. She smiles and asks if
she should cook some rice? I return the smile and decline her very kind offer
explaining that it is my one day off and that I will be going out very shortly.
I added that my belly needs a rest day too. That is a nice outfit you are wearing
today Adama I said, as I tried to soften the blow of rice rejection. Adama
smiled again and explained that she is from the Jolla tribe and her outfit was
traditional. She added that Dembe was Mandinka. Another smile and she begins
her dusting ritual. I am sure that Dembe did that bit a few moments ago. What’s the betting that when I get back later today,
there will be a huge pan of boiled rice waiting for me on the open air cooker
hob? The ant I mentioned last night, the one that was
circumnavigating Anna’s ashtray outside my room like a hamster on a treadmill
is nowhere to be seen. Maybe it eventually grew tired, or suddenly gained some
enlightenment and thought “what the heck
am I doing this for?” Or just maybe a fire finch or some other exotic bird
swooped out of the air and ate it for breakfast? Who knows? I do like my new long sleeved tee-shirt that Jill
bought me to wear in the evenings, it is rather flattering, I must say. At
least my belly looks flatter, I think. My mirror though is not too good and
tends to distort things. Before leaving for the pharmacy amongst other things,
I am forced to shave by the light of the failing solar powered bulb in my
pseudo bathroom. By this, I mean there is no bath and only the barest trickle
of cold water from the tap or from the shower in the corner. Yep, that is it
folks. No water and no lighting. Have I ever mentioned the fact I have never
once had hot water unless it was in a cup of tea? Oops, I appear to have been taken short again and
quite extraordinarily so I might add. I really must get hold of some extra
Loperimide. I inform Dembe of my intentions. He says “Good, that is good, you want my bicycle”? Are you kidding Dembe,
have you seen the state of it? I could get there and back walking on my hands
in the sand faster and I have never been able to do that, but thanks’ for the
very kind offer my good friend”. Dembe returns to his swish, swish swishing and
I pop to the loo. A small group of fledgling fire finches are squabbling
over something outside my door. It’s the ant from last night I’m sure of it. IT
is now almost 09.30 hours and there is still a distinctive nip in the air, a
good excuse to put on my new long sleeved vest, the one Jill bought for me
before setting out on this African
Adventure. I know it’s only mid morning but I decide to cross off
today on my little ‘West’s the Chemist’
calendar which I brought from It is simply amazing what one finds oneself doing for
amusement or to kill time. Oh and how of course just how innovative one can
also be. Take for example my empty water bottle shower invention, and not to
mention my fallen leaf tea bag thingy. I hear drums and shouting and chanting getting nearer
from outside the compound, much like I have heard every Saturday morning. It is
another parade with maybe a dozen individuals wearing brightly coloured and
very bizarre costumes and face masks. Others are beating drums, ringing bells
and yelling. I dash for my camera and move towards the compound gate to get a
closer look but Adama prevents me from opening it by jumping in front of me and
leaning against it. Both Harry the killer dog and Holly the flying dog are
going mad barking and snapping at anything that seemed to move. Adama is not
smiling now amid the total pandemonium, she mentions something about danger and
dogs or something. I am not sure whether she means our two are dangerous or the
many others that were going crazy outside snapping at the dancers in swirls of
red dust. I was still determined to get a few photos though and
tried to climb up and look over the iron gate by standing on a chair but
unfortunately the parade had passed by in a massive cloud of sand and dust. I
could still hear them and their manic entourage as my camera went click click.
Now that won’t be a good one and that’s for sure. “Sorry, sorry” Adama said through an emerging smile.
“Photo maybe next time, you want rice”? She added before returning to her
dusting. I must confess to feeling just a little bit miffed particularly as when
Adama barred my way to the gate, I caught my still infected left hand and
sustained a little graze that will inevitably require the attention of some
Germoline cream before too long. I swallow my last two Loperimide tablets and fetch my
beach towel from the washing line where it had been hanging over night. It
smells of cocoa nut oil. Adama is watching me from the open kitchen, she is
smiling and holding a large cooking pot, she points to the contents with a
wooden stick she uses as a spoon. “No thanks Adama, belly full” I said
anticipating the question that would undoubtedly have followed the stick
pointing non verbal message. Okay, so she never asked the question I was
anticipating but rather made a statement instead, she informed me that she has
cooked more rice. F**k. Now that is just about it, I am going out for medical
supplies, a Fulla or Mandinka/English dictionary and some sun. Before I set off though, another rush job to the
lavatory is necessary. Whilst seated, I hear Dembe fetching more water from the
outside tap behind me. I wonder whether he can hear me. At the same time as that particular thought I
experienced one of those light bulb moments when I discovered if
one folds one’s kitchen roll in half with the rough side uppermost, it tears
much more neatly than if the process was reversed. And that discovery my friend
proved invaluable ha ha, four sheets from one, if you know what I mean. I decide to postpone my venture out until the
Loperimide has a chance to kick in; it is only 10.40 after all. I just received a text from Rebecca which was good,
however despite being fully dressed and under my quilt, I feel shivery and
cold. That is what Banjul Belly does
for you… Mid day and I have not yet been able to get warm, I do
think my hand is getting a bit better though. Despite still feeling rough, I
decide it must be time to get those supplies in or the day will be wasted. Making my way along the Sene Gambia Highway I stop off at the ‘We treat God Heals’ rip off pharmacy and ask how much for a box of
Loperimide? “300 Dalassi for 20 tablets.” “Um, what time do you close”? “10” came the reply. Well sod that I thought, I will
find somewhere else or try and scrounge from a departing British tourist, that
might work, I think. A Few Further Observations on the Topic of What are Gambians Good At? ü Falling asleep by the road ü Laying around doing nothing ü Fixing things with wire and string ü I have already mentioned smiling so that does not
count What
Are Gambians Not Good At? ü Dressing tastefully this applies equally to both men
and women ü Disposing of rubbish and waste, particularly plastic
waste ü They are not good at baiting fly traps without
supervision. There has not been a single fly that has been sent to meet it’s
maker since Anna left for As I approach Maddies Beach Club and Bar, a couple of
bumster’s who were aware I needed to see Ebrima Jabang about a taxi trip to the
airport told me he had been around yesterday. “I ring him for ya Boss Man”? “No it’s okay thanks.” I don’t want to be in debt to anyone, as it is, I may
yet need to fork out an additional 300 Dalassi for Loperimide if I can not find
it anywhere cheaper than the rip off merchant up the road. Anyway, if I don’t catch up with Ebrima soon, I might,
to coin a phrase “Have to call Sol” Now I wonder who will get that little gem? Later, lounging by the pool at Maddies I make out like
I am staying there. I say hi to the numerous waitresses, the pool guard and the
cleaners as they pass by asking whether I need a drink or swish, swish swishing
leaves and other debris away from the pool. There is a slight breeze and the
Brits here are all complaining. Okay, it might be a little on the unexpectedly
cool side but it is still 28 degrees and there ain’t gonna be no rain until mid June at the earliest. I
suppose it might be a bit of a bummer though if like many of them, they are
only here for a week. I notice my feet are filthy from the walk here but
they are toughening up a treat. My big toe right foot is still throbbing though
in time with my pulse. ‘Another Observation or Question for You to
Consider’ How can you
tell the English, Scottish or Welsh women from any other nationality? The answer is very simple, by the number of tattoos
they have. Sorry to Funny how the mind plays tricks, just a moment ago
when I closed my eyes, I saw the face of my mother as a young woman and not
that long ago, I saw my maternal Grandmother bronzed by the sun as she always
was. That image came from an old photo of her sitting on a wall at Gullworthy
Cottages, Occasionally I see my brother Neil and my sister
Elizabeth’s faces from behind closed eye lids. I must be careful, I am almost
out of drinking water and I am conscious that I must avoid dehydration
otherwise, I might really start hearing and seeing things. Wherever I go I see dozens of older Toobab women on
the arm of some young black Gambian stud and probably older Toobab men with
young, sometimes very young Gambian women or girls. I have heard it said many
times that you can get it off for less than a hundred Dalassi and the price of
a meal. I have been offered young cappuccino girls on several
occasions, cappuccino’s are of mixed race and often very pretty. There go
another couple each holding an ice-cream cone. Better you than me mate… If I could be anywhere else at this precise moment, I
think I would rather be at our Tservo Koria house in Bulgaria with Jill, that
is where I tend to feel most relaxed or as Dylan would have it ‘most of the time.’ African skies are incredible to watch at night and
that is despite all the dust, dirt and pollution we have down here. Now what
made me come out with that? It is only 13.00 hours so only just gone mid day. Callum and Jackie my back spraying palls from Have I told you the one about the scorpion and my
boot? No Well I found a scorpion, a big one at that inside my
right boot. I have almost never failed to check my boots, shoes,
crocs etc before putting them on in the morning. My Dad always told me to do
that, to check boots etc, I mean and I always have. It does not take more than
a second and now, it has probably either saved my life or at least additional
discomfort in my already throbbing big right toe. S there you have it, Thanks
Dad. There is no one in the pool and only a handful of
tattooed Brits trying to catch a few extra rays before jetting off home. There
is a kid of about 12 �" 13 years to my left, playing with a small feral cat. I
reckon from where I am laying he is probably a Brit because I notice one of
those mum and dad tattoos on his lower forearm. I could be wrong though, my
eyes are just so bad these days. I need to remind Babba that I need an extension letter
request for my visa. I will ask again on Monday. The breeze has just picked up
and the life guard has added two layers of extra clothes to keep warm, he still
looks uncomfortable though and here I am in just a pair of shorts. I decide to try and find an internet café on the way
home and might even grab a fresh fruit juice. Well would you just Adama and Eve it? No sooner have I left Maddies than the sun comes
out good and proper. You probably wont believe this either but as I pass
D’Nubian Restaurant, or rather just past it, I hear a heavy thud close behind
me and on turning around, spot a large brown vulture that had just fallen out
of the sky. It was still alive but I think its neck was broken. I take a photo
of it and leg it up the road. Let me now tell you about my Internet Café experience
after the debacle of yesterday. This time I pay for 20 minutes and manage to
fulfil my promise to Mark. I also send a brief message to Jill. Before I
reached my allocated computer, I began to fret because I had come out without
my specs or magnifying glass but need not have worried because there were no
numbers or letters on any of the keyboard, they had all been worn away with so
much use and that my friend is no joke. I have learnt though that it is
possible to type without sight like a blind person. I delete my details and browsing history just to be on
the safe side and leave the internet café. I cross the road and order a
Margareta, which arrives with plenty of salt as requested but no ice. I
complain and the problem is immediately rectified, I still leave a small tip. The world just passes me by. If anyone should ask me
how I feel at the moment, it would probably be impossible be impossible to
describe in words although right now I feel like another Margareta but resist
the temptation and wander back to the compound at Kerr Serrin with the sun
still pounding down. I just chose the wrong time to leave Maddies I guess. Oh’
well, there is always tomorrow. On my way to the compound, I stumble across a
ramshackle little café come bar that sell whole or half chicken with rice for
25 Dalassi which I might give a try sometime. Their wine was cheap too. Hey, I must share this. Before I left the 2 Rays
Gourmet Bar and Restaurant of fantastic Margareta fame, I see two fat and I do
mean very fat ladies with two very slim, muscled and young Gambian men walking
arm in arm from the direction of the beach to the More Observations that Have Previously sprung to mind
but Until Now Not Written Down My guess is that a lot of the Toobab residents here in
the The way I feel at the moment I may never return to The
Gambia. Now that is what is called feeling sorry for oneself. Now come on, snap out of it Mr. Neville Pettitt, call me I forgot to mention that whilst at the internet café
across the road from 2 Rays I checked to see if Jill had managed to obtain
Anna’s full bank account details and personal account number. It seems that she
had tried to contact Anna explaining our situation but Anna has not yet replied
or furnished the details requested. Never mind. Before setting off for the compound I read and re-read
some of my texts from back home in good old Blighty. I seem to do this often
coz they generally cheer me up no end. This evening after an uneventful afternoon, I dine out
at my recently discovered café bar and restaurant. Yes it is cheap. I had
spoken earlier to the chef and indicated my intention of checking out his
culinary skills. He was delighted to see me again. I choose to have tagliatella
in olive oil and basil. I also have two glasses of white wine. Mid way through
my meal I receive a text from Jill which I reply to immediately. I set off for the compound at exactly 21.04 hours.
Dembe and several of his friends are sitting outside around a blazing wood fire
drinking tea. I am invited to join them and I do for a while. We sit around
chatting about nothing really, everyone’s faces stand out in the orange glow
and everyone is smiling. Hey Dembe, where is your broom? I ask. ‘S**t’ he responded like a tiger on Vaseline. ‘Gotcha’
I laughed. He laughed too, as did his friends. Ten minutes later, I leave the
guys still laughing and make for my shed. Guess what? My friend the ant either survived the fire
finch assault or I have just noticed his double trekking around Anna’s ashtray
on the table outside my room. Please note the following correction, said ashtray is
not wooden but some kind of resin, plastic or similar man made material meant
to resemble wood. Before retiring to bed, I take a couple of selfie
photo’s of my hand to show Simon T on my return to the UK, he likes that sort
of thing and also to use as a baseline record to determine either improvement
or deterioration of my peculiar ailment. I only wish now I had taken more when
they were at their most swollen. However, it must be understood that I would
not have been able to hold the camera. ‘Not so Much an Observation but More of an Experience’ I have just got to try and explain the rather
un-nerving experience I had this evening around 18.00hrs. I was sitting on a low wall outside the internet café
and almost opposite the Two Rays Gourmet Bar and restaurant when I suddenly came
over all funny. I actually felt as though I might faint. I was very light
headed, quite nauseas and dizzy with blurred vision. I had to sit very still
indeed for several minutes before making it back to the compound. Well that was then of course and since then I have
recovered sufficiently enough to have returned to dine out as previously
outlined and made it back to base without further mishap. Now I am just about
to retire. It is 22.00hrs precisely. There are no bird sounds at all and the
only noise I can make out is that of Dembe and his palls laughing every now and
then just outside the compound. Sunday 9th
March 2014 Well here we are again. I wake at 01.30hrs initially but fall asleep again and
sleep reasonably well until 06.00hrs. I don’t get out of bed though until
07.35hrs. I eventually sit up and lance my still throbbing right big toe. It is
impossible to see whether my hands have improved in the dim light of my room.
They do feel a bit better though. Next thing is to take my antihistamine tablet, now
where did I leave those little blue pills? Having found and necked them with
some water, I venture outside already knowing that I was not entirely alone
because I could hear Dembe swish, swish swishing his way around the courtyard.
He asks if I slept well. ‘Fine’ I reply and set off in search of a cup and a
tea bag. On my way to the kitchen which I may have mentioned
before is entirely open to the elements, oh and of course the animals and other
creatures of the I grab my favourite seat while it is free and I feel
rather smug as I take my first sip of black tea. As I do so, I notice the cat
with no name lying under the 4 x 4 My hand certainly looks a little less angry this
morning. I decide to leave my calendar date crossing off ritual until this
evening; it seems to make more sense. Being nosey, I check out the wooden store
room to the side of my shed and stumble upon Dembe’s arsenal of brooms, brushes
and assorted cleaning equipment. Sitting with my second cup of black tea made with
water from a bottle and not the tap, I might add and on this occasion in my
favourite chair, I become aware of the relative silence. Apart from the various
birds all around and the almost ever present swish, swish swishing. Then
without any warning the relative quiet is shattered by five or six very loud
and successive bangs which sound to me like automatic gun fire. Dembe is smiling at me from the opposite side of the
yard. He reassures me that the noise is nothing to worry about and it is only
the guys working in the metal workshop around the corner. The one’s who always
greet me with their big smiles when I pass by both to and from Tanka Tanka
every day. The same guys that made the metal base for the two tables me and the
Dutch volunteers designed and put together. Hey, have I ever told you about the bones that litter
the courtyard within the compound here? Okay, well get this. There are so many of them
scattered here, there and everywhere. At least a dozen or more, and big ones
they are too. I’m not sure where they actually come from, what animal I mean
but the dogs Harry and Holly play with them when they are not sleeping or going
berserk. It proves impossible to count them because the dogs
keep moving them around. I imagine any intruder or unauthorised visitor for
that matter, same thing to those dogs I guess, might very easily and very
quickly be reduced to a handful of bones by those two. There are a lot of flies around this Sunday morning, I
wish Dembe would re-bait Anna’s fly trap. The cat with no name is pawing at my shorts, the one’s
I have got on. I think it wants me to move. I find myself wondering whether
that vulture with the probable broken neck is dead yet? You know the one that
fell out of nowhere and nearly turned me into road kill. There you see that is
just how random thoughts occur when one spends so much time either on their own
or in the company of psychotics, or for that matter, either with Adama and
Dembe. I aim to be by the pool at Maddies Beach Club and bar
before long and need to try and catch Ebrima Jabang who seems to have gone
AWOL. I am sure that I have previously mentioned my many
nocturnal trips to dispose of Adama’s latest batch of boiled rice but I don’t
think I told you this before. My original intention has always been to dump it
somewhere or to give it to the old man with no hands. Well on one occasion
recently, I came across two very young children who asked this particular
Toobab for Dalassi because they were hungry. I offered the rice instead and
they proceeded to tear the bag apart in front of me, and wolfed the rice down
there and then. Then seconds later, they both said thank you. There, mission
accomplished. Later on returning to the compound all I had to do was
to make it look as though I had dined at home so to speak and so pot, plate and
spoon were each held under the tap and left out on the side to impress Adama at
breakfast time the next day. I am determined to tell her that I will be eating one
of my x4 packets of flavoured rice and pasta today. I brought these with me
from An eagle flies overhead, not too high and sets off
something of a chain reaction of alarm calls and panic responses from the other
birds in the garden. At the same time, three hooded crows scramble and take off
after the eagle in something that vaguely resembles our old spitfires on
sighting the approaching Luftwaffe during the Battle of Britain. Dembe swishes up behind me whilst I am marvelling at
the sky. He hands me a slip of paper with what looked like a telephone number
written on it. “What is it” I asked. “The gas number” he replied. “I take it every Sunday for Anna” Ding, another light bulb moment. I suggest if the gas
supply is getting low, he should inform Adama that I would be happy to forgo
any more rice for the next week or so and eat my own dried past and couscous
which only needs water adding to make them, yum yum. I had to fetch my emergency supply packs from my hut
and show Dembe to make my proposed intentions clear. Even then though I am not
sure I succeeded. That by the way was not a coward’s way out of a
potentially tricky situation. I had just remembered it was Adama’s day off
that’s all. Making my way back to the table I helped the Dutch
guys make, the dogs are each playing with the bones I mentioned earlier and
bugger, the cat with no name has my favourite chair. I note its ears are intact
unlike those of Harry and Holly who both continue to suffer the relentless
onslaught of the ‘dog ear eating flies.’
Dembe sure does get through an awful lot of that antiseptic ointment on those
ears. Now I know for sure that I have not mentioned the
Tanka Tanka ‘Dressing Bag’ before but
I am going to now whilst it is in my head. The Tanka Tanka ‘Dressings
Bag’ is a very important bit of hospital kit. It is made of yellow fabric,
some kind of tough nylon I think. It is about the sixe of a small suitcase and
has Tanka Tanka sprayed on it, just like everything else here does. Inside we
have a limited supply of bandages, dressings and ointments. There is a bottle of
iodine and one of gentian violet. There is also a large jam jar of runny honey.
We actually use a great deal of honey on a great many wounds each day here.
There are also a couple of rolls of micro-pore and sticking plaster or tape, an
old pair of very blunt scissors, a couple of syringes and a handful of pink
plasters. I don’t think I missed anything out. That of course is on a good day
often supplies are almost non existent. To date, I have only seen one wound that was self
inflicted and that was by the girl with an obvious learning disability. She incidentally
is known by the name which when translated means ‘Tomorrow’ ‘Tomorrow’ it seems had scratched her arms and drew quite a lot
of blood because she wanted to have a dressing applied to her arm like so many
of her fellow patients. Yes folks, classic attention seeking behaviour. And
that by the way is why I have always insisted on my spending as much time as
possible interacting and the bit I feel does the most good. Sitting in the shade, playing cards and drinking tea
is for the guards, support workers and the midwives. Yeah, we have two midwives
here, crazy eh or what? Plop goes the turtle, would you believe that? Right
before my very eyes it takes a basking goldfish the approximate size of a ‘neon tetra’ from the surface of Anna’s
pond for breakfast. Well, well, well. Neon
Tetras by the way are really quite tiny fish. I learnt all, well probably
not all about aquarium fish from my Dad when I was a kid. Okay, cat with no name happy, turtle presumably happy,
dogs playing with their bones happy and Dembe swish, swish swishing away and
therefore, in his element, I decide to set off for You know, I would probably be a lot fitter if I ran
more often, but a man can not run in Crocs
very well and these are my preferred footwear on my rare days off. When I am at
TT, I wear the trainers that once belonged to young Aiden. His mum, my sister
Elizabeth gave them to me back home because Aiden had already outgrown them. My heavy boots also come in handy, particularly at
night and occasionally when working on jobs that require stout and protective
footwear, like when collecting potentially dangerous rocks from the TT compound.
Those that in the wrong hands may have easily been turned into weapons. The Dutch guys and I had previously spent almost three
whole days collecting these and moving them in great piles somewhere safer
outside TT where presumably some time in the future they will be found and
moved on again. My heavy boots have also proved very useful when
climbing on super hot corrugated iron roofs to clean the solar panels and when
negotiating very rough terrain. Yeah, I am glad I wore them on my outward
flight. I plan on giving them to one of the patients before I leave though. I hope I have not just made a big mistake by setting
off too early in the day. But hey, at least I have my supply of water with me. I wonder if the ‘dropped
baby’ is okay. I also wonder if Dembe and Adama will remember me when I am gone
and if so, for how long? Callum and Julie are both by the pool sunning
themselves. Callum sprays my back and we chat about nothing until it is time
for the couple to leave. They have arranged to watch a televised soccer match
featuring Callum’s favourite team in the final of some Scottish cup match. Ah, that’s better; Julie could talk rubbish for A pool girl approaches me and asks if I would like a
drink from the bar? I decline and take a swig from my water supply. One of Maddies
Beach Club and Bar hired gardeners, the one with a whopping great machete
asks “From I say “No Northampton” “Have you been “No second time” “Good holiday? “I am not on holiday; I am working at Tanka Tanka” “Oh’ one of my colleagues not in today” “Okay” “My colleague he phone and say not in this day. His
son found hanging in morning” “S**t, how old was he?” “Maybe 22 �" 23 too much stress maybe” “Yeah, you could be right” “My colleague very sad, not get body released,
policeman have it” End of conversation. I am now on my own again and free to do more or less
what I like. I think of home, of Jill, of my kids Richard and Rebecca. I spend
a lot of time thinking about Richard’s recent job offer which sounds very
exciting and full of promise, he deserves it though, without any doubt. I also
think about Rebecca’s forthcoming graduation and of my planned river trip with
Rich in ‘The Life of Brian’ in memory
of my Dad. I think about whizzing around in the ‘Copen’ with Jill and the roof down. I
think of ‘Cova’ the Andalusian Basque
Beret Manufactures Secretary who will have arrived back in Basque country
re-vitalised after her seven day break and once again ready to raise the
National flag for her beloved boss and in the name of all her Basque beret
manufacturing buddies wherever they might be. See what I mean about random
thoughts? Oh yeah, I spotted two new species of bird on the way
to Maddies. The first was some kind of wader, like an avocet but with brown, white and black plumage. Come to think about
it, more like a long tailed lapwing. The
second sighting consisted of half a dozen dowdy looking greyish green roller type birds, all sitting on a
telegraph wire overhead. I fully intend to identify them correctly from Anna’s
book on ‘Birds of the Now get this… I fancy a bar of Turkish Delight, not
the real stuff but a bar of Cadbury’s
I usually can’t stand the stuff… very strange indeed. All these musing are having a serious impact on my
sunbathing and there is a risk of my running out of note paper. Under such dire
circumstances, I decide to leave many of them in my head and besides, I have
started to fret about my finances again. I am the same back home in Well the difference my friend is that I am almost 2,000
Dalassi down because of unplanned expenditure on extra sun oil and the
extortionate price of prescriptive medicines. Oh’ not to mention the fact I had
not planned on needing four taxi’s to get to work and back each day. Then there
are other sundry expenses and the rip offs. I will also need to fund the taxi to and from There is a young English couple and their toddler
daughter on the far side of Maddies
pool, directly opposite me. I can hear them and I can see them when I open my
eyes without moving an inch. The little girls face, legs, arms and belly are
covered in thick sun screen. I imagine in another 15 years or so at most, her
arms at least will be covered in tattoos just like both her parents are today.
Yep, I betcha… I wander off again, not physically you understand but
mentally and somehow I arrive at Koala
Bears, not real ones but like Tinga
and Tucker the two little bears from
the kids TV show of my very early years. Incredible innit, give me an R ar, give me an A ay,
give me an N en, give me a D dee, give me an O oh, give me an M em and what
have we got? RANDOM. The little girl directly opposite from me on the other
side of the pool and who I can see, together with her parents without moving,
when I decide to open my eyes, I am beginning to think might be called Mandy or
Madeline. She has begun chanting what sounds like some kind of
mantra. “Madi wanta tat ooo. Madi wanta
tat ooo. Madi wanta tat ooo” “Sshh Mandy you must wait until you are a teenager”
Her mummy explained for probably the N th time. Ha, I thought for a moment Mandy or Madeline was
speaking Mandinka or Wolof or something…. Time for my midday antihistamine, I
reckon. See those eagles directly overhead Exploring and exploiting thermals one after the other Surely they will wear out that patch of sky one day Now that must be the kind of freedom a slave dreams of The old geezer, or should I say punter sitting in the
shade with the young Gambian girl are about as subtle as autistic Pamela demonstrating her lack of social skills when it
comes to hiding their distinctly different intentions and personal objectives. He it seems, is buying her time and she, is keeping
her belly full and taking his money. Both are in their own way exploiting the
other and all in the flimsy guise of some romantic holiday romance. Such is
love!! I suppose I could go to the beach. I can see it and
hear the waves crashing just as easily as I can see the young couple and their
daughter Mandy or Madeline opposite me on the far side of the pool, without
moving. I could go and check out whether ‘Juicy Jack’ is still in business and maybe buy one off him. Nah, I
don’t like getting sand on me. Strange, Richard is exactly the same. Now then Neville Pettitt, you can call me My note pad and camera without any doubt, then my
Crocs and bum bag. The beach towel does not belong to me anyway and all the
other stuff has no sentimental or financial value whatsoever, except of course
my stash of Gambian Dalassi, that of course does have some financial value, but
not much. The swifts and the swallows are dipping and diving
into the pool just as they do in our pool in Tservo Koria ‘Swifts and
swallows must surely be The porpoise
and the dolphins of the sky’ I still reckon I am about 2,000 Dalassi down to date
and still need to find a few things yet. Erm, I think I might be beginning to
repeat myself, don’t you? Before leaving for the compound back at Kerr Serrin, I
had a long conversation with Callum and his wife Julie, mainly about holidays
we have previously enjoyed and possible future destinations. We also talked
about food. Both my fellow Brits raved about the local pizzas that were
apparently a bargain and each easily fed two people. Callum was particularly
taken by the range of meat, meat and potato, meat and vegetable, chicken,
chicken and mushroom and other assorted pies that were available and again good
value, plenty big enough for a grown man. I asked Callum if he ever managed to find room for
dessert. “Puddings you mean, oh’ aye he replied “always.” So much for the diabetes eh! I set off for Kerr Serrin at 17.00hrs. I get in and
wash my feet. There is no electric. Dembe is swishing around the yard still and
on reflection, I think he was in exactly the same spot, holding exactly the
same pose and smile as when I left earlier this morning. I decide to dine at the same restaurant tonight as
last night, ‘The Kebab Ji Bar, Restaurant
and Grill’ just off the I get a text from Jill when I get back to my hut and
reply immediately. As usual I sit outside on the veranda and write up my
journal before retiring. A huge frog or toad crawled over my foot and around
the side and back of my little hut to where Dembe fills his beaker and watering
can from the tap in the wall. Dembe and his palls are having another little
party around a wood fire outside the compound. Dembe is wearing a thick duffle
coat and woolly hat to keep out the chill, all his chums are similarly attired.
Now get this, it is possibly warmer here now at 21.50hrs in the evening than
any warm spring day in the I think I managed to save around 200 Dalassi by eating
at the Kebab Ji Bar, Grill and Restaurant
so things could be a lot worse. Holly the flying dog is almost certainly missing Anna
because she is forever pawing me and resting her face in my lap or across my
knees. But then again, at this precise moment, I too am missing Anna. I found a restaurant just around the corner and not
too far away that have curried goat on their menu and very reasonably priced so
I might give them a try one evening. All in all, not a bad day off. I plan to return to my notes in a minute or two but
must first lance my infected right big toe again, ouch. Aw forget it, night
night. Holly the flying dog has taken to sleeping on the
wicker chair outside my bedroom door each night, much like Vachi did in Tservo Koria keeping guard and looking out for me. Monday 10th March 2014 07.10 a.m and I have been awake for just over an hour.
My big toe is throbbing in time with my pulse. I need a cup of tea to set me on
my feet for the day. Outside the birds are already singing, screaming and
cawing away. The dogs are playing with their favourite bones, the cat with no
name is sitting on my favourite chair and Dembe who was swish, swish swishing
pauses to greet me with a huge smile, you know the kind all Gambians are good at.
Adama is thankfully not around but my biggest fear is that she is only late
because the huge wheelbarrow full of plain boiled rice she has prepared for me
is slowing her down. I make tea for one and pop my antihistamine pill. I
think I forgot to mention young Tommy who has grown up to be a very handsome
young man since Jill and I first met him in January 2012. In fact he has become
quite respectable with a job and all. Well he may have found a job but sadly he has also
learnt a few tricks off the bumster’s.
He had a vague look of recollection in his eyes when we first met this time and
a broad beaming smile, of course. He asked me for money, cigarettes, or any
item of clothing I Might be able to spare. He did not seem upset when I
declined to consider his request, he simply smiled and veered away in the
direction of an obviously just arrived and probably very naïve Toobab. It is such a shame that most local have that gimme,
gimme attitude. Anyway, so now you know. Now its time to check my supply pack
okay. ü Water ü Mobile phone ü Sun spray ü Rubber gloves x3 pairs ü Note pad ü Pens x2 ü Taxi fare x4 ü Medication ü Pack of cheap cigarettes x2 ü Spare light bulb (only kidding) There
now, I am sprayed, packed and ready for the day. I arrive at Tanka Tanka at
08.35 hrs just as the ambulance is leaving in a cloud of dust. Paulina waves at
me through one of the rear windows. I
enter the Hospital through those fearsome black iron gates and the blinding
white light of the heaving compound hits me. Dutch Maria approaches and asks “Did
you see that girl? “What
girl? “The
dead one in the ambulance, Paulina is taking her to the hospital in “Bloody
hell” I
greet all the guys who are waiting for my arrival, standing, crouching or
laying on the low wall or in front of it. I also say hi and shake hands with
everyone and hand out a few cigarettes as discretely as possible. The
queue for breakfast has already begun, the staff are already fed. There is a
huge cauldron of very and I do mean very weak tea but no bread today. Everyone
but the staff are hungry. The queue so far consists of a long line of those
standing, those barely standing, those crawling and one young guy in a
wheelchair. There are lots of new faces and new smile. I
am asked by a male support worker to stand next to the female tea server and to
prevent anyone arguing or fighting or pushing in or returning for seconds. I do
as I am told but I am not very good at my job. Have
you got any idea of the power and control these big fat meal servers have over
the patients here? I expect not. Everyone is spitting, they are all expert
spitters. I decide to assist Dutch Maria washing out the yellow fabric dressing
round pack which is only the size of a small suitcase but when covered in
sticky honey, is harder than it sounds. We need to salvage as many of its
contents as possible but it had been left open and out in the yard somewhere
over night by an incompetent somebody or other and many items had been spoilt
and were covered in red and black biting ants. We
have had many new arrivals since my last shift including one guy who claimed to
be from One
of the laziest support workers asks how I am. I subsequently show her my hands
and she tells me that they are poisoned because I do not possess a ju ju. She
can arrange for one to be made for me though for ‘small Dalassi’ Thanks but no thanks. I
go check the table tennis table and to my surprise, it has been repaired by
Edward. I thank him and congratulate him on his work. That was the least I
could do. There
seems to be an unusually large number of white uniforms around today. I learn
they are student nurses from I
organise a volleyball match between TT United and TT City. We have some good
matches but my big toe right foot is giving me some jip. I ask one of the two
qualified staff on duty if I could have x2 sterile needles so that I can soak
my foot once back home in boiled water and lance it again with something other
than a tooth pick. Remember, I have not had any hot water since my arrival.
This time I am not going to quit until I have drained the bloody thing
completely. Nice eh? Half
way through the volley ball tournament one of the support staff begins to
distribute colour nuts from a large wicker basket. The game abruptly ceases and
everyone except for me charges towards the colour nut dispenser and tries to
obtain a nut or two. The contents of the wicker basket are soon spilled onto
the ground in the frenzy. The support worker kicks out in all directions trying
to shoo the patients away. I
am handed two colour nuts by two different patients and take a small bite from
one of them. I ask what they are for and why they are so popular. They are
after all extremely bitter. One chap tells me “He can’t do anything without his
colour nut every day and pointed to several old fella’s they, he said are
addicted to them. Colour
nuts are not only very bitter; they are also quite beautiful to look at. By the
end of my shift I had eaten half of one whole nut and given the rest away. Throughout
the rest of my shift, it was good to see friendly gestures exchanged between
patients and between most patients and me. After
the volleyball Baba approached me and asks to talk further tomorrow or
Wednesday about how to manage a Community Mental Health Team (CMHT) and any
tips I can give him. I take advantage of the situation and remind him I need a
letter confirming my volunteer status in order to get my visitors visa
extended. Dutch
Maria informs me she may not be working on Friday and asks if I would like to
go half or ‘Dutch’ as we say in “Okay,
what do you suggest? “Bananas”
she replied. “Everyone
likes bananas” she added. I
agree to her suggestion providing I can afford it. We subsequently do a swift
calculation of cost and reckon that 120 bananas from Serra Kunda Fruit Market could be bartered down to around 800
Dalassi. “Okay”
I agree but realise that makes me around 400 Dalassi down. As
I collect my belongings from the cupboard in the OT room which incidentally is
never locked but only held closed by turning a bent nail either up or down. I
hear a commotion coming from over by the main entrance or exit, depending on
whether one is arriving or leaving. I go to investigate and discover a chlorpromazine (CPZ) ampoule being
roughly drawn up into two syringes and administered into the veins of two
formerly very disturbed but now heavily restrained young Mandinka warriors. Bang,
they each went out like a light. I have never seen CPZ given intravenously
before in fact it would never be allowed in the I
just need to put something straight while it is still fresh in my mind. When I
mentioned earlier as I’m sure I did, about everyone spitting here, there and
everywhere, I did not mean at each other, they just seem to spit for the sake
or the fun of it I presume. I
leave TT at half past two in the afternoon and make my way to the main Senne
Gambia Highway, but before I get there, I am required to trek through deep sand
for at least another half an hour or so. Just
as I reach the main road, the TT ambulance passes me with its horn blowing.
Both the driver and Paulina wave at me. I presume there is one less passenger
on the return journey to TT. Getting
back to Kerr Serrin proved relatively easy, but with a couple of distractions
en route. The memories of which are likely to remain with me for some time, I
imagine. Firstly, just after being dropped off at the ‘turn-table’ Gambian for roundabout, a gent on a bicycle came
hurtling toward me at considerable speed. When out of the blue his front wheel
flew off into the opposite lane, if there is such a thing here. The cyclist
went flying also and then bits of his bike just seemed to disintegrate. It was
as if the bike just exploded. The rider disappeared for a second in a cloud of
dust then came up smiling. His only obvious injury was a grazed knee. It seems
that the bit of string, the length of tape and piece of metal wire that had
presumably held the whole contraption together for maybe 10 or 15 years had
finally just given up. I bet it will be back on the road again before long
though. The
second taxi home was no trouble at all and my driver dropped me off at the Vimto Advertisement emblazoned across
the side of a huge metal shipping container as instructed. I
pop briefly into one of the little shanty shacks to buy my usual large bottle
of water (I do prefer to support the small local businesses where possible).
Just outside the shack I notice a very tall man of around his mid thirties. He
was limping badly and using an old piece of wooden banister to help him get
along. He was obviously in considerable pain. He stopped me and asked if I
might help him. Apparently
he had been told by the hospital in I
have no idea what caused such horrendous injuries but suspect he might have
been hit by a car or mauled by some wild animal. Of course, the cause may well
have been much less out of the ordinary, cancer for example, leprosy, or even
some kind of rodent ulcer. I doubted whether anyone could save his leg either
and was quite sure he would soon be dead. Nevertheless, I felt it was my duty
to try and help him. I gave
him the 200 Dalassi that I had left on me and he was so grateful, he began to
cry. I insisted he returned to the hospital as soon as he was able to get
there. When
I arrived back at the compound, Dembe was still swishing and Adama greeted me
with “Shall
I make rice? Damn,
did Dembe not explain? I declined and asked her to follow me. I unlocked my
door and produced my stash of dried rice, pasta and couscous. I prayed that she
had eventually got the message. She smiled. Bloody
hell, not only is the electric down again but now I don’t appear to have even
any cold water. This is so frustrating. I need at all costs to conserve my
supply of bottled water for drinking purposes. I don’t want to waste any and
decide on boiling only a cup full for the purpose of soaking my bad foot prior
to lancing my infected toe. Dembe
still swishing said in a questioning manner “You
cussin” “Yes
I bloody do sometimes Dembe yes I do cuss.” Dembe in his own little bemused way
swished off… Now
then, can anyone advise me why ‘bloody’ is considered to be a swear word? “Come
on, I need to know” I
can understand why bugger or sod it are considered cuss words. I can
even understand why b*****d might be
offensive. Other words are down right crude but increasingly used these days
unfortunately. But what is it about the word bloody that is so bloody awful? ‘A
Lesson about Hygiene in the Firstly,
it is a very rare but understandably essential basic rule that some things just
need to be kept clean. Stuff goes off very quickly here in the heat and of
course dust, sand and insects are everywhere. I am firmly now of the opinion
that there is no minimum or basic standard of cleanliness that Gambians
universally adhere to. I was led to believe that Muslims are meant to wash each
time they go to the loo, before they pray and prior to eating, but many don’t,
believe me. Christians are also meant to adhere to their personal hygiene at
such times; most here most certainly do not. I
have seen blokes pissing on each other, shaking hands and sharing bread from
their mouths having held it for hours under an arm pit. The only time that
hands are not shaken is when one is eating or having just finished eating and
whilst waiting to rinse the food soiled hand under running water. At such
times, rather than shake hands in normal greeting, there is a tapping of the
upper wrists. Just
remembered, I have not seen Swiss Peter recently. Has he finally been deported,
I ask myself? ‘Bum
Bags’ Now
what is there to say about these amazing inventions, these historically now
well out of date fashion accessories? Bum bags are certainly not cool,
flattering, or the in thing, but let me tell you this. Here in the I
eat out again this evening at the ‘Kebab
Ji Bar, Grill and Restaurant’ where I devised my own dish to test the skill
of the head chef who has taken to a natter every time I pass by or dine there.
I order tagliatella pasta with grilled chicken and mushrooms. The meal was
quite delicious but took a long time to arrive. I knocked back two glasses of
wine just waiting. Chef was delighted with my compliments. When
I eventually arrived back at the compound, Dembe was not around. I could tell
immediately because I could neither see him nor hear him laughing with his
palls or swish, swish swishing. Most odd. Under these circumstances I let
myself in through the heavy outer security gates hoping that Harry and Holly
would recognise me by now and not try to reduce me to a pile of bones. Holly
usually the more placid of the two dogs immediately tries to take a chunk out
of my right hand. She catches my right thumb and the still swollen upper aspect
of the same hand. Fortunately the bite did not draw blood. It hurt though let
me tell you. Okay,
this is very important, at least in my mind and should be considered by any
subsequent volunteer, back packer, uninvited visitor or guest to the Not
long after returning to the ‘Compound’ at Kerr Serrin, I sensed something might
be wrong since there was no audible swishing sound from within and as
previously indicated, the dogs were roaming free. Later,
maybe 10 �" 12 minutes into my solitude and having thoroughly washed myself from
top to bottom in cold water from the tap behind my hut, I run out of water
completely, not even a drip. Furthermore, I have no electricity, not even any
residual solar power. Dembe
approaches me like an almost silent, swishing shadow whilst I am sitting
outside my shack writing up this journal. He informs me… “His
head is filled with many mighty problems” Oh’ and guess what? He
needs money. He claims to be building a house within a secure compound for
himself, his wife and baby. However, he says he is unable to pay for the
previously ordered cement order. Guess
what… I feel a scam coming on, well wouldn’t you? Obviously
I sympathise but find it necessary to point out that whilst I might normally
feel obliged to help, I have little spare money available. Dembe
then asks “how long you be staying at Anna’s?” I told him at least another
seven nights. His eyes immediately lit up and he gave me a huge grin. I
said that I might leave a little something as a token of my appreciation before
I left but could not guarantee this as I had already spent a lot on the
patients at Tanka Tanka. I
think Dembe’s request for financial aid might well have been something of a
pivotal moment for me and finally convinced me that the Before
retiring to bed this evening at 21.10 hours, I first wash my hands clean of all
traces of dog saliva. It was pitch black here on 10th March 2014
precisely 10 minutes ago. The
hugely disappointed but nevertheless still smiling Dembe sits with several
palls beside a wood fire immediately outside the compound security gate. His
broom is at his side just in case and always at the ready. I am very tired and
rather irritable. I
truly wish Dembe had not asked for money because it was certainly my intention
to set enough cash aside for both him and Adama before leaving. However, I now
feel a little used and cheated. I
take a less than cool shower from my previously sun warmed water bottles and
hope to dream of home. Night night. Tuesday
11th March 2014 For
some peculiar reason I begin to make arrangements in my head just in case I am
unable to make it back to the I
need the physical contact and proximity to people plagued with the idea they
are either God, Jesus, a millionaire maybe or some other deity or well known celebrity.
A
welcome text from Jill breaks the peculiar train of thought and in an instant,
all again seems well here in the Not
surprisingly, I am unable to find anything that is not broken or does not have
a hole in it to contain the water for my toe. Under these circumstances, I slip
silently into survival mode and proceed to cut the bottom off a large empty
plastic water bottle with my ‘Victorinox
Swiss Army Knife.’ I let the water from the kettle cool down to just about
scalding hot and place my toes somewhat gingerly into the hastily fashioned
receptacle. Aaargh,
not only did that hurt, but I had forgotten what hot water felt like. After
soaking for about fifteen minutes I squeeze and probe and squeeze and poke my
swollen big toe removing as much grit and puss as I am able. I
have x4 sticking plasters somewhere that Callum and Julie gave me but can I
find them? No. I therefore set about applying a thick layer of Germoline Ointment and a clean pair of
socks. Having
got dressed, I prepare my supplies for work. Sun oil check, note pad,
check x2 pens, check magnifying glass, check rubber gloves, check hand sanitizer, check antihistamine tablets, check x2 small bottles of drinking water,
check and last but not least an emergency supply of Loperimide. I
set off from the compound slowly, not wishing to arrive at TT too early. I
leave Dembe swish, swish swishing. Both dogs are asleep and the cat without a
name lying across my favourite chair. The heavy security gate closed behind me
and I felt a little troubled as I stepped into the sandy dirt track leading to
the I
can hardly believe Dembe came out with what he did last night, or maybe that is
the problem, maybe I just can. It is never easy walking in dry sand and dust
and my legs feel leaden. I stop and check my mobile and notice I had a text
last night. Jill has heard from Anna who asks for me to be “less shy around the
house” whilst she is away. I
had also received texts from Dutch Maria and Toon, two of the Dutch volunteers
who each asked me to devise a special work programme for a couple of the laziest
TT staff. I
make it to TT easily enough and greet everyone. It never ceases to amaze me
just how quickly a behaviour or action can become a ritual. Once
inside the great big metal gates I am greeted by numerous variations of Hiya
Toobab, Hey you look bad man, you look hungry, you look sick, you need special
Ju Ju… Even
today, I am not sure whether these were statements, observations or questions. I
respond by insisting I am not sick and do not require a ju ju as am prepared to
take my chances. At
which point, I feel it is probably necessary to explain later all about Ju ju’s……………But
for now… In the compound there are about 150 souls wandering around with their
plastic bowels in hand. Around and around they go, just like the walking dead.
Unfortunately, it is porridge for breakfast, no bread and no tea. No-one seems
to know exactly how many patients we have this morning, but it feels like an
awful lot and there are certainly a lot of new faces. I
decide to check on the sleeping quarters and find there are still folk knocked
out cold by various chemicals and others trying to make themselves comfortable
on the floor. Another
surreal morning, everyone able to walk is milling around with their plastic
bowel waiting for a miracle. Then suddenly without any warning, the breakfast
is carried out into the open from the covered kitchen are by three servers… A
ragged line or queue quickly forms and individual outstretched plastic bowels
are filled with a flick of the wrist. Everyone seems to love the green sweet
porridge and once that has been consumed, the medication round commences. This
is over in a flash and then the tooth brushes are distributed. There
is always an undercurrent of paranoia amongst the staff… What you writing
Toobab? What
words you paint Mr. Neville my name is Crazy
innit… Everyone here is paranoid…….. Nevertheless,
we had a great game of volleyball today with a record number of participants
making up Tanka Tanka United and After
the tournament, I sit with a handful of young men and not so young men on the
step at the side of the compound but still directly under the suns merciless
rays. We
talk and laugh out loud and I am rewarded with smiles all around. The men
vastly outnumber the females here. I
begin to feel welcome and quite at home but the feeling does not last as I am
summoned to a meeting with Baba the matron. Before joining the meeting to which
I am unexpectedly invited, I return the volley ball and net to the OT cupboard. Having
made sure everything was packed away; I turn and make my way across the
compound towards Baba’s office. In doing so, I notice there is a queue for the
barber who shaves each head with the same straight razor blade and I weave my
way through the bodies laying in the dust of the compound floor. I
enter Baba’s office to find several senior staff already there including Dutch
Maria and the Autistic German Pamela. There was an additional contingent of
very important looking, well dressed dignitaries and officials from the Ministry of Health and some African
Bank…. Needless
to say, I arrived late which does not go down well with those already
assembled. That in itself in my mind however is something of a contradiction in
terms because no-one in this country is able to keep to time…. I am eventually
introduced as the volunteer specialist from the What
a waste of time that proved to be… Loads of ceremony and nothing practical to
show for it. As
soon as the meeting was over, I found myself helping to remove one of the
single metal doors to the TT compound. Now
get this folks, it takes seven grown men to carry this particular gate a few
yards which incidentally includes my good self to a safe distance away before
work can commence on fitting a bigger and presumably more secure lock. As
soon as I get the chance, I ask Baba about my visa extension letter. He asks me
to remind him again tomorrow. Baba
is very difficult to understand because he talks very fast and often words come
out sounding like wooda wooda wooda. Quite funny really….. Not. I
leave TT quite early today after giving Dutch Maria 200 Dalassi towards the
banana leaving present we previously agreed on. Dutch Maria is having tomorrow
off so I agree to give her the remaining 150 Dalassi on Thursday. A
lot of my new friends were discharged yesterday afternoon which means I am
unable to say goodbye to them. A
very kind taxi driver gave me a lift from around the mid point termite hill
marker on the dirt track to the main highway home. From there it was plain
sailing all the way to Kerr Serrin. Oh’ I almost forgot, I sat in on the
medicate depot clinic this morning which was interesting to say the least. Anyway,
I make the compound without any problem and Dembe is as you would expect,
swish, swish swishing merrily away and Adama asks if I might, yeah you got it,
whether I want rice? I insist NOT but indicate I would very much like a fresh
grapefruit from the tree and cutting in half. My
wish was granted and within 10 minutes the sun warmed grapefruit was all gone.
It was absolutely delicious. I decide to check my passport visa expiry and
confirm that I need the extension before the 17th March. I also
decide to eat again at the very cheap Kebab
Ji Restaurant. I
will also need to change more money either tomorrow or Thursday. Sometime
later, I walk to Maddies Beach Club and
on the way, I check if Ebrima is working today. There is a unanimous NO from
his taxi driving peers. Having established that Ebrima is unlikely to be around
today I pass the ‘Bush Family’ who as far as I can see actually live in a big
bush just off the road. The kids and there are many of them spot me first and
call out “Hey Toobab, anything for da boys?” Some of those kids are very young
indeed, still on the breast even. I
realise that all that sounds like a story I might have made up for Richard and
Rebecca, yeah the Bush Family. Well I have photos of them to prove they exist. Did
I mention that Holly the flying dog bit my right thumb last night? No blood
thankfully but it did hurt a little. I
nearly forgot, before I left TT earlier Dutch Maria and I had tea. Dutch Maria
gave me one of her precious tea bags and because there were no plastic mugs or
beakers, I brewed mine in an old margarine tub and from which I drank. It
tasted darn good I can tell ya and oh’ Dutch Maria told me she was not looking
forward to returning home. She really wanted to take over from Anna in running
the Tanka Tanka Foundation. She also
told me that she was grateful for my being there and that I was good company. I
returned the compliment. Not
sure whether I mentioned Anna’s gardening tools have been located and Lonika
dropped them off at Anna’s Kerr Serrin compound yesterday in the 4 x 4 she
intends donating to TT when she leaves. Lonika was not working today but Purple Braided Linda from Colchester England was busy creating all manner of
things from papier-mâché. She is certainly the busiest and most creative of
them all here as far as I can see. Still
no signs of Swiss Peter I may need to
ask after him tomorrow. I must also identify that new bird I saw on the way
home too. I respond to Jill’s most recent text by the pool at Maddies. Having done that, I completely
lost my train of thought for a few moments which was quite disconcerting… Hey,
you just got to hear this while I think of it. On several occasions now I have
seen a guy working away in a hot, dusty and extremely filthy sweat box of a
garage where he beats and shapes hot metal with a hammer all day long. Each
time I have seen him he is wearing an old full face motorcycle helmet. He
always waves at me when I pass. Today though I stopped and asked him what kind
of motorbike he had? He replied “No motorbike” Then it became clear, he uses
the helmet as a face mask to protect himself against the dust. I
seem to be getting through sun-spray like anything and water and Loperimide. I could well do with some
moisturizer because I look very old and wrinkly here. I
dine once again at the Kebab Ji Grill and
Restaurant and order mixed sea-food pasta. One whole hour later I am
getting increasingly frustrated waiting for my meal to arrive and I told the
waiter I might go home if it did not arrive very soon. He in turn tried to
explain there was a big party of Dutch people and the chef was struggling to
keep up. I looked around and yes, there was a party of five Dutch people
sitting at a table but two of them were far too young to even contemplate
eating solids. And so I asked the waiter again how long my meal was likely to
be and if he was not sure, whether he might estimate to the nearest hour. The
meal when it eventually arrived was extremely tasty and I made a point of
saying so. The chef subsequently came out of his kitchen wiping sweat from his
forehead with the back of his hand. He approached my table with a big Gambian
smile and we talked. I told him the food was good but that it took forever
arriving and asked what would have happened if I had ordered three courses or
if the restaurant had got really busy? “It was really busy” he exclaimed. Oh’
well that’s At
which point I think it high time to broach the subject of bodily fluids. So
here goes. Since arriving in the When
I eventually arrive back at Kerr Serrin this evening, Dembe is sitting outside
the compound opposite chatting with a friend. I greet him with “Dembe Two Jab” meaning
Dembe has two jobs. He replied “Yes, yes” but I don’t think he got the joke,
not in a million years. I
will not be in a rush tomorrow morning and plan to soak my infected toe and
enjoy a pot of tea before setting off for TT. I suspect I will be the only
Toobab on site again if Dutch Maria takes her usual day off. It has suddenly
dawned on me that I am the only volunteer that works 5 or 6 days every week.
All the others work 4 or even less. I don’t think Lonika as even worked a full
two days yet but none of that is any of my business. I
have just made a very important decision and that is, I will not return to the When
I described my brief encounter with the guy on the street whose eye looked like
it was falling out and whose leg I could see through, both Dutch Maria and
Paulina the nurse enquired why did he not attend the Poly Clinic at Banjul, or
the A & E at the Edward Francis Small
Teaching Hospital? Both told me that health care is free here providing the
recipient of that health care has no means of paying for it. I
am so much missing my family but am determined to see this whole adventure
through to the end. I
found it particularly interesting earlier today during the meeting with
officials from the Ministry of health and other VIP’s that Baba, the matron of
TT was very quick to re-direct the focus of attention from himself to someone
else. Today it was the turn of both Mamadee
the lovely male nurse and Dutch Maria who Baba invited to do a little speech. Dutch
Maria I thought did very well and mentioned a few positives as well as the
shared belief that more training needs to be undertaken with the majority of
staff at TT. Did
I ever previously mention Arun? He is the white uniformed support worker who
suffers from the same condition as John Merrick the ‘Elephant Man’ Arun is a nice guy and enjoys chatting with me. He
will also join in with the volleyball if given half a chance. Arun
has applied to do his SEN nurse training and registered nurse training at every
hospital and teaching unit in the whole of the Guess
what? I am sitting outside my shack and it is almost 22.00hrs most definitely
my personal record for staying awake since arriving here. Dembe is again on
guard duty armed of course with his broom. The dogs are both sleeping and would
you believe it… A blast from the past indeed, a large ant has been circling the
rim of Anna’s ashtray around and around for I don’t know how long. How
I so wish I could feel more passionate about helping the Gambian nation in
their quest to deal more pro-actively and effectively with mental disorder but
I realise my own contribution is a very small drop in the ocean. Not sure which
ocean though…. I
am very tired now and it has turned 22.45 hrs I am also a little hungry. I must
have lost track of time and for a moment was unable to locate my watch or
mobile to check it but so what… I
have such an awful feeling of emptiness and loneliness the kind I never wish to
experience again and then it dawned on me, I just don’t have the calling that
Anna and Dutch Maria seem to have. Wednesday
Morning 12th March 2014 I
am woken by all the usual morning sounds that greet me every day. Birds are
calling, arguing and doing their own thing in the sky in the trees and bushes
and everywhere else in between. There is loud banging on the old tin roof which
I take to be the monkey lobbing fruit down to annoy the dogs and by Dembe
swishing away. I look out of my window and note that he is simultaneously
dusting the interior of the old green VW Golf and hosing down the area around
the palm tree and planted area. I am truly flabbergasted, two things at once
Dembe, I wonder whether that was intentional or not!! I
make tea in a pot with water from a bottle and I fetch my home made vessel to
soak my still infected big toe in. Having boiled the water, I sit outside
waiting for it to cool sufficiently to bathe my toe in. As I wait, I take in
the somewhat limited view outside my room from the old wicker chair. At that
particular time, my view consisted of the green VW Golf and the blue 4 x 4
which was parked immediately behind it. Dembe is to the side engaged in
swishing and picking scabs off Holly the dogs’ ears which were caused by the dog ear eating flies. Dembe notices me
watching him and smiles “Busy busy” he says with just a hint of paranoia in his
tone as I pick up my note pad and start scribbling. As
I sit there on the wicker chair outside my shack, with my toe immersed in
hottish water, (okay come on, everything is relative) the water was warm. It
was then and under such circumstances that I began to think to myself, how I
might easily have been killed by that blooming vulture which dropped out of the
sky the other day without warning. Quite easily killed if you ask me, in fact,
in my opinion I might easily have ended up as road kill. I
make a special effort to locate one of the four sticking plasters given to me
by Callum and Julie from The
dogs are now playing with the bones, hurling them across the compound and high
into the air. High of course is another relative concept since I really mean
around waist or shoulder height. Just
before setting off n the first leg of my outward journey it is once again
necessary to check emergency supplies. This has become another important daily
ritual. Okay, here we go…. note pad and pens check, water supply x2 bottles
check, magnifying glass check,
Loperimide check, baseball cap check, sun spray or at least what is left
of it check, mobile phone and bum bag check, taxi fare and two packs of 20
cigarettes for the patients, check and double check. I
notice my hands are not healing as well as I had hoped they would and at this
rate, they might not be back to normal before Jill arrives. I recall Dutch
Maria telling me yesterday over our tub of tea that “Africa has not been kind
to you Maria
just had to refer to my various physical problems that she was aware of which
included �" Banjul Belly, a grazed and infected finger from falling down a
drain, seriously inflamed and swollen hands, an infected toe and sun burnt
nose. Those of course were the openly visible wounds and injuries I carried.
She knew nothing of my multi-joint pain, back ache and home sickness. Despite
all this, I do occasionally think back on what nurse Paulina has said on many
occasions “ Taxis
no problem this morning and somewhat ironically I was offered a lift along the
long hot dusty dirt track by Lonika who told me to hop in the back of the as
yet to be donated 4 x 4 Land Rover. As we bump along, I learn that Lonika is
married and that her husband returned to look after his business in Once
again my morning ritual begins by greeting all the boys sitting on the low wall
and steps inside the compound at TT. No sooner had my eyes adjusted to the
brightness; an old woman approached me and introduced herself as G.O.D. Then a
middle aged man asked me what the difference was between ‘love’ and ‘like’ … I
try to explain that it is a matter of intensity and give a few examples. Next a
very angry and quite aggressive guy demands that I give him a sheet of paper
and a pen. We exchange a few words. I
find myself trying to capture moments just as they occur in words, just like
that guy over there beating an imaginary drum banga banga banga banga. My
camera is not permitted anywhere here so every snap I take is either taken
covertly or I have first gained permission from individual patients. Breakfast
this morning is very late and many are complaining, a few are crying even. This
is certainly both difficult and difficult. Everything has been delayed because
someone has decided the lettuce and onions from the garden could bulk out the
meagre supply of stale bread and warm tea. No
sooner had breakfast been hungrily consumed the real rituals begin starting
with the medicine round and of course the tooth brush dispensing ceremony. I
become aware that something is happening over in a corner so go to investigate
and find the guy who challenged me earlier for a scrap of paper being
restrained by four guards and given intra- venous diazepam. Wham, he was out
cold in Z seconds. Moments later, another scuffle broke out over a broken
cigarette lighter. This place seems to have gone crazy. It is extremely hot in
more ways than one. I
decide to compose my own visa extension letter and hand it to Baba later today
or maybe tomorrow. At the precise moment my mind was made up, I was approached
from behind by Baba and urged to follow him into the inner sanctuary of his
office. Once inside he flashes me a broad Gambian smile which looks quite
absurd coming from behind his little wispy beard of maybe a dozen or so plaited
hairs at the tip of his chin. Baba
boots up his computer and points at the screen, smiling even more, if that was
indeed possible. Yeah bingo, there in front of me is a typed letter which
clearly if not a little convolutedly indicates that Neville Pettitt requires an
extension to his visitors visa for bla de bla de bla reasons. Actually I was
quite impressed but made a few suggestions to improve and round off the very
formal letter that Baba had obviously laboured over for a very long time. Baba
agrees with me and indicates that he will print off a copy tomorrow when I have
my passport number with me. Actually, adding my passport number was one of my
suggestions…. I
decide to leave TT early today because my bones and I mean all of them feel
like a bag of spanners having been shaken up and down in an old sack. I begin
to realise that I am too old for volleyball, basketball and football. My
luck is in, I get to the main Wow
indeed. At that moment I wondered whether I had met one of the I
obviously expressed my sincere thanks and now on reflection think maybe a
little too profusely as my kindly driver sped off into the dusty distance
without so much looking back, although I would bet my pension he had a smile on
his face. Do
you know what? That kind deed saved me at least 16 Dalassi. I decide to buy bottled
water with the x2 Dalassi notes and whilst at it, claimed the 5 Dalassi note
that was owed me by the little shop keeper. Ha,
I felt quite over the moon and made my way the few remaining hundred yards to
the compound. As I approached it, I could hear Dembe swish, swish swishing. I
opened the heavy metal security gate and was greeted by Adama who immediately
asked if I wanted rice. I declined and once again asked for grapefruit. In less
than five minutes I was gorging on what must have now become my favourite
thirst quencher if not fruit in the whole wide world. Now
what must I do this afternoon and evening? Okay, I must contact Solomon and ask
where exactly I need to submit my visa extension letter. I also need to ask him
to phone Ebrima the driver whose son we sponsor back home as I am desperate to
arrange transport both to and from the airport when I eventually collect Jill. I
also need to change £100 into Gambian Dalassi and obtain some additional sun
screen. I also decide to take more steroid tablets tomorrow because my hands
don’t appear to be getting any better. Oh’ yeah and I need to try and identify
the bird I saw earlier today and to cross off yet another day on my little
West’s calendar. It
is good to be at the compound with just the familiar sounds I have mentioned so
many times before, like for example the solar powered water fountain, the
untold number of birds, Dembe swishing away and Adama dusting here and there
like her life depended on it. Not to mention the dogs Harry and Holly playing
with those bones. It
is also such a relief because the girl with a Learning Disability they all call
‘Tomorrow’ had not stopped shrieking and slapping her face throughout my
earlier shift. There were also three student nurses on day placement at TT today
who did nothing but play with their mobile phones the whole time they were
there. I got so angry I told each of them that they were nothing but a waste of
space. Just
for good measure I added that if they really wanted to make a career for
themselves within mental health then they should each spend a day with Mamadee
and actually learn something and hopefully develop a little compassion on the
way. Not
one of them made a move even when I struggled to brake up a fight between two
Mandinka warriors over a broken cigarette lighter and a colour nut. I
said that I was prepared to report each one of them… “For what” came the
unanimous reply “We are just doing what we have been told to do, observe.” Oh’
incidentally, we have electric for once at the Kerr Serrin compound but still
no hot water. I therefore have a jolly good scrub in cold water paying
particular attention to my face hands and feet that are most often exposed and
consequently very mucky. I
am quite hungry this evening and again decide to dine at the Kebab Ji Bar and
Grill. The chef greets me and apologises that they have no white wine. No
problem, I order a glass of red and grilled barracuda with boiled rice and hot
sauce… It is lovely. Whilst
dining, I ask a waiter for his pen and begin to reflect on the day. Whilst
doing so, I begin to recall earlier events in considerable detail and jot them
down on my paper serviette as follows…. Bumped into Skinny outside D’ Nubian,
he seemed to be having some kind of argument or hissy fit with another young chap.
Skinny
subsequently informed me that the taxi station where he often worked was unexpectedly
raided earlier by lots of police in mufti who cuffed and took away many of his
friends and quite a few drivers. Skinny
claims to have escaped by running away into the bush and is trying to keep his
head down for a while. He asks me for money to buy food and to pay for this
year’s driving licence and car tax. I respond by pointing out I am unable to
help but would try and think of something. Skinny can be quite intimidating
when he wants to be and Ebrima is clearly very scared of him, I on the other
hand am not. I
did however dream last night that Skinny had murdered Ebrima so that he could
earn a regular income from me and Jill. A bad dream indeed but not half as bad
as the one I mentioned previously about finding Jill in bed with Greg G… In
response to Skinny’s semi request, pseudo demand I formulate a swift
fabrication, for some reason I prefer that term to that of ‘down right blatant
lie’ and I calmly suggest that I will send Skinny some money once I am back in
England. I also remind him that if he had previously given me his correct
e-mail address last year, he might not be in such a predicament because then, I
was younger and more naïve and had wanted to help him just like I had been
doing with Sol and Ebrima and of which he had become very much aware. Autistic
Pamela completely blanked me this evening in the street. She turned when I
called her name but that was all, blam a totally vacant nothing…. Okay,
now let me tell you about spitting. I know I have mentioned it before but the
act of it must be explained and discussed in greater detail. From
a purely personal point of view, I think unless one is choking, the act of
spitting is a disgusting act or behaviour. I detest the habit whether in the
street, football pitch or wherever it occurs or is demonstrated, I can not
excuse it, not in the slightest. That said and now off my chest, here in the Everyone
does it. Even Paulina the nurse at TT who only has one day off per week and
which she then spends almost entirely at St’ Peters Church Lamin does it. Actually,
for the record Paulina is a fantastic spitter, she can be in deep conversation
with you and discretely spit out of the side of her mouth a great gob of spit. I
imagine if spitting was ever to become a sport, my money would have to be on
Paulina for gold at the Olympics for both target and distance spitting events. Gambians
can spit high, low, sideways and even backwards. They can spit standing up,
sitting down and in the prone and semi prone positions. Yes folks, Gambians
whether young or old can all spit through the eye of a needle, no problem. Now
let me report back on the events of my hike back to the Kerr Serrin compound
from Kabab Ji Bar and Grill. It is
only 20.00hours but already very dark. I set off feeling comfortably full and
quite optimistic but on my way, I get approached by one of the many roadside bumsters who tries to engage me in
conversation. I am not surprisingly interested in his sales pitch and point out
that I am not a tourist but work at Having
eventually got rid of the uncharacteristically demanding street fella I become
very much aware of one hell of a commotion some fifty or sixty yards in front
of me. There seem to be lights everywhere from street cars, taxis torches and
burning branches amongst many other things. I approach the sizable crowd
somewhat cautiously and spot someone pushing a wheelchair at speed towards a
shapeless mound I can just make out amid the growing frenzy. My
curiosity gets the better of me and I crane my neck to see more clearly what is
taking place. I can see an hysterical Toobab woman, middle aged and with
braided hair yelling and screaming incoherently above the noise of the
assembled crowd. A
gap occurs between one body and another and for a moment, I can make out an
older male Toobab laying awkwardly on the dusty walkway with his feet still in
the road. Apparently he had been hit by either a taxi or a Mercedes Private car. I force my way to the front of the crowd and
ask if the victim is alive? Is
he breathing? I enquire. “Yes,
he breathing Boss Man” “Okay
keep everyone back and make some space for the emergency vehicle, oh and make
sure nobody moves him” I demand. No-one
listens, everyone is going crazy and before my very eyes the limp and listless
body of the clearly injured Toobab is unceremoniously dumped into the waiting
wheelchair by three burly passers by. Jeez
if he had sustained a broken neck or head injury I surely felt very sorry and
pitied him. For now, I can do nothing, nothing at all and turn towards the
compound feeling helpless and uncomfortable. As
soon as I reach the compound, I inform Dembe of the accident and of my
observations. He responded with his usual “sorry, very sorry” response. At
which point I consider it very important if not crucial to note that Gambians
are always extremely ready and otherwise adept at saying ‘sorry’ even when
there is clearly no reason whatsoever to make such a statement. One
might trip on a curb, twig or dead bat for example and they say sorry. One
might take a wrong turn, sneeze or cough and everyone around will say sorry.
The electric might be off and everyone is sorry, sorry sorry. Sorry is most
certainly not the hardest word to say here in the Tonight
over my evening meal, I must confess that I have decided not to return to the It
still bugs me a little when folk sign up to volunteer here but hardly if ever
actually do any volunteering. Lonika is a bit different though she has done
something quite remarkable in travelling so far with the intention of donating
her Land Rover and all the supplies to Tanka Tanka. It’s certainly not her
fault that she finds the work too much for her, I think she should have been
eased into the volunteering role rather than thrown in at the deep end. Yep,
it still bugs me that the others do between 2 & 4 days per week and I feel
obliged to do 5 or 6…. The
compound is silent at this hour although I can still hear laughing from
somewhere outside and the sound of crickets which are never very far away. Thursday
13th March I
woke several times during the night but feel more refreshed this morning. Am
out of bed by 06.40 hours, I scrub up and make a pot of tea. Also because I
need to take another four steroid tablets after food, I make chilli pasta in a
mug meal that I brought out with me in case of emergencies. Not that this was
an emergency but there you are. I must say, it was not bad and certainly the
best breakfast I have had thus far. On reflection, it was only the second
breakfast I had had thus far. Would
you believe it, I am up before Dembe who enters the compound with his broom in
hand moments after I tuck into my past pot. I could do with some more salt but
can’t find any. The cat with no name is on my chair so I sit opposite and scowl
over the table at it. Remind
me if I have mentioned the white tourist who got knocked over by a car last
night. I don’t seem able to locate my notes. I
think today might be quite interesting because it is Dutch Maria’s last day and
we will be giving out the bananas as leaving presents. I also expect Dutch
Maria to give a brief presentation and to receive a little gift and a
certificate from Baba… I expect when my turn eventually arrives, mine if I get
one at all will say something like ….This certificate is for Nev or Neville,
not Jesus. He did good but he don’t do miracles and he did survive Tanka Tanka,
or something like that. I
have today, tomorrow possibly Saturday or maybe Monday left to work. It is not
a good thought at all but at the time it is the only one I have. Dembe
is watering the orchids in the garden, his brush only an arms length away. The
dogs have been fed and are lobbing their bones here and there. Before setting
off I need to do my usual emergency supply check. Water
x2 bottles … check Sun
spray oil… check Note
pad and pens… check Cigarettes
for the boys and girls at TT x2 packs… check Magnifying
glass… check Taxi
fare x4… check Dutch
Maria’s 100 Dalassi ‘banana money’….check Passport
number for my visa extension letter…check Loperimide
tablets… check Tissues…check Rubber
gloves… check Small
bottle of hand sanitizer… check Okay
I wash my face, brush my teeth apply sun spray everywhere and off we jolly well
go. The
steroid tablets make me feel like I am going to fall over and really quite
weird. Oh’ I forgot to mention I packed a tea bag along with my supplies for a
mid morning break if I get the chance. Hey
I really must share this with you. Yesterday morning a young woman was admitted
by two police escorts and strangely she was not hand cuffed or in any other way
held by visible restraints. During the admission process the medical records
guy with cerebral palsy who I have mentioned before recognised the woman as one
of the absconders who had gone missing over a year before. How amazing is that
eh? Apparently she had been admitted under a different name altogether. I was
witness to her eventually admitting the whole bizarre series of events. As soon
as her true identity had been established, her two sets of clinical notes were
combined within the same folder. Let
me now tell you about my awful taxi ride this morning four in the front
including myself and six in the back plus five chickens. Nuff said… ‘Interesting
Menu Items Spotted on the Way’ 1) S**t Kebab 2) Semen Platter 3) Sicky Toffee and Banana 4) Awful Soup 5) Cow Foot Soup
(it really is cow foot) Even after having been here so long, it is still very
hard to understand everything because folk dip in and out of maybe 4 or 5
languages within the same conversation and may be even just a couple of
sentences, check this out… “Toobab morning woodah woodah woodah? Strong man
hungry? Woodah woodah woodah. Sorry sorry sorry woodah woodah, so how is your
good day? Woodah woodha? You want ride? Woodah woodah ya want a ride? “No I want to live thanks” “What is your very nice name?” “My name is I hit the dirt track around 08.10 hours with a warm
breeze in my face which is usually very welcome but today with 20mg of
prescribed steroids racing around my system I am feeling far from okay. I feel
dizzy and nauseas and with no energy whatsoever. I distinctly recalled just how
bad steroids had made Jill feel all those years ago. They are after all a
cerebral irritant dont’cha know? Or did I just make that up? I plough slowly through the deep sand and dirt pausing
every five minutes or so to take a sip of water. I think maybe I should have
stayed at the compound today, but then it is Dutch Maria’s last day and I owe
her 100 Dalassi for the bananas which we intend to give to the patients later. I eventually reach TT but feel very rough. Everything
is late again today and there is very little food for breakfast although it
galls me to say this but the staff and support workers seem to have eaten well
on the fish and rice that their little co-operative purchase earlier. Everyone
except the staff and me are hungry. I am immediately surrounded by so many patients who
each beg me for Dalassi, cigarettes, food and prayers that I soon loose count
and give up trying. I am feeling even more delicate and several patients
seem to have noticed and are variously reassuring and sympathetic.
Nevertheless, I feel it’s gonna be a very long day. As soon as the breakfast tea, or should I say hot
water and stale bread is served and the medicine and tooth brush rounds are
over it seems that very little else has been organized. On reflection, it seems
that nothing else has been organized. Autistic Pamela blanks me again, completely. Well
could I care less? No, I don’t plan on saying hi ever again. Lonika, the young
Dutch woman who drove out from Okay once everyone’s teeth are cleaned with shared
tooth brushes or bits of twig or neglected altogether I try to organise
volleyball. However, I feel totally drained and after less than one full hour,
I need to sit in the shade. I am again immediately surrounded by variously concerned
and otherwise inquisitive patients. I think maybe I fall asleep for a few
minutes. When I open my eyes, I become aware of three white and
obviously very Dutch women. All of them are very tall and quite ugly. They are
being shown around the hospital by Paulina the very black nurse. It seems they
are each asking questions that Paulina is unable to understand. She smiles
broadly like all Gambians and spits from the side of her mouth. I rise to my feet slowly and try to offer some
assistance however, the three totally ignore me. I suspect because of my
appearance they think I am a patient, who knows? Who bloody cares? Later Baba seeks me out and reprimands me for not
saying goodbye yesterday afternoon before leaving. I explain that I am feeling
unwell and will probably need to leave off early today. He smiles and say’s
woodah woodah we’ll see or something similar and heads in the direction of his
office. I break up an argument between two young studs vying
for superiority. Nothing feels good about today, nothing at all. I realise that
I drift in and out of some mild confusional state for what seems like ages. Someone brings me water in half an old tennis ball
which tastes like warm water being served out of an old slipper. I thank them
for being so thoughtful. I eventually decide that if I am going to go early, I
had better earn my keep so muster up five patients for volleyball and ten
spectators. I quit after less than an hour and conclude that I am
suffering from an accumulation of sun- burn, steroids and maybe some tummy bug.
Playing volleyball in 40 degrees and with 20mg of predinsalone in your belly is
not advisable. I almost collapse and am summoned to Baba’s office where he
prints off my visa extension letter. Remember it was my idea to include
passport number but Baba would not accept that. I thanked him and pointed out
that I wanted to go home. Lonika offers to drop me off back at the compound and
I eagerly accept. Paulina looks disappointed I am leaving early. As I stumble
into the back of the Land Rover, I heard her say “ Much to the contrary Paulina, The journey back to Kerr Serrin is extremely bumpy and
almost un-navigable but Lonika is learning fast how to navigate the sand and
pot holes. When we arrive at the compound she asks if she might use my toilet
before returning to TT. I advise her to use Anna’s because I was unable to
flush mine earlier this morning before leaving. Lonika looked very sad as she fired up the Land Rover
and set off back towards the Adama approached me with a smile and as if by some reflex,
I requested a grapefruit before she even had a chance to mention rice and
within a few minutes I was enjoying a freshly picked one on my bed. Before leaving, Lonika asked me to stay in touch by
e-mail when I returned to the Despite feeling so awful I decide that I Must try and
get my visa extended today or I am likely to face a financial penalty. After a
couple of hours trying to recuperate on my bed, I set of to look for Sol at Bushwhackers and he offers to escort me
to the correct ‘Immigration Office’
which incidentally I had walked past on many previous occasions without knowing
what it was. No problem at all and 15 minutes later my passport is
stamped until 13th April. I still had to pay 1,000 Dalassi though
which was 2,000 less than anyone else. Thanks Baba and Solomon of course. Not surprisingly perhaps, I decide that there will be
no sunbathing for me today and walk slowly back to the compound after saying
thanks’ to Sol for his help. I am still feeling awful. I sleep rather fitfully for a few hours and on waking
again I decide that I need to try and meet Ebrima Jabang my prospective taxi
driver out on the Strip around 6 -7 p.m……. Now let me tell you about cell phones here in the There is most definitely a status amongst cell phone
owners here and everyone tries to draw attention to themselves by having the
loudest and most attention grabbing ring tone. Some are so loud it is painful
to the ear and will interrupt or prevent any conversation within several yards
at least. I eventually wake from my delirium around 16.30 hours
and go and sit in the courtyard. Adama has already gone and Dembe is making tea
but simultaneously swish, swish swishing and I still feel pretty awful. I am
determined to be well for when Jill eventually arrives. I am down on Dalassi because of the unexpected visa
extension fee and through trying to help various down and outs. I would be
delighted if I did not have to change my last £100 sterling before Jill gets
here but I think that unlikely. Mind you, I did save 16 Dalassi by getting a
lift from Lonika earlier today. I must be well for tomorrow because officially if
there is such a thing, it could be my last working day and Baba does not work
weekends or Mondays. Unlike Dutch Maria, I am actually quite keen to be
presented with my official ‘I survived Tanka Tanka’ certificate. I count out tomorrows taxi fare and place it on the
side by my bed. I also count out tonight’s allowance. I am not sure whether I
will be hungry later or not. I seem to recall one of the nurses at TT taking the
trouble to inform me that Swiss Peter had been AWOL for three days. I knew I
had not seen him but thought he might have been sent home. I am not surprised
he has eventually done a runner though. There were lots of little scuffles and disagreements
between the patients earlier today before I left TT. They seemed to happen just
when I needed them least. At the compound sitting by the pool listening to the
birds, the dogs playing with their bones and Dembe swishing and the flow of the
solar powered water fountain I realise that I am quite lucky really. I still
feel rough but when I think about those poor folk banged up in TT almost always
against their will, I realise that I am very lucky indeed. I decide to try and be constructive and set aside
things that I might donate to the patients maybe tomorrow or on Monday. I have
already had many requests for my heavy boots, various tee shirts and my over
the counter reading glasses. My small empty plastic water bottles are also
considered to be valuable items. Oh’ and of course my old I phone particularly amongst the nursing and support staff. I still
have loads of pens and other stuff left over so will make a point of handing
some of these items out tomorrow. I may not be able to donate a four by four truck and
stuff but I am able to give out lots of little things and of course I have time
to listen and to talk which I still maintain is invaluable. I would dearly like to leave my prescription reading
glasses behind but am likely to need them for a week or two after returning to
the ‘I am only
strong When I have
something To fight for
and believe in’ Those words came to me quite out of the blue when I
was trying to mend the old hose pipe which was full of holes in order to wash
down the solar panels on the roof back at Tanka Tanka. “Why you sad
Toobab” “Because I Miss my Dad Ousman” “Sorry sorry
sorry, woodah woodah wooda” “Buy banana Toobab?
My mother will beat me if I go back with banana Toobab” “Too bad” “Give me
Dalassi, something for the boys” “Remember
me?” “I am, we are
hungry” “My wife had
baby yesterday” “Then give her my best wishes” “I got
married yesterday” “Congratulations” Okay, enough of all that. Now let me tell you about
the hospital shop, what it sells and who owns it or runs it. The Lady in Black, that is who owns it or
runs it. Until quite recently, I thought the relatively small wooden
structure was a tiny hut for the guards to shelter from dust storms in. But no,
it is the hospital shop run by the Lady
in Black a mysterious and somewhat scary figure dressed entirely in black
with only the smallest of slits from which she can peer out and select whatever
it is her customers may have ordered. She sells amongst many other things
bread, nuts, little cellophane bags of water, eggs, cigarettes, biscuits and
the like and all at vastly marked up prices. Now let me briefly mention praying in the hospital
church or mosque. There is a small brick built building behind the volleyball
pitch that serves as a multi denominational holy building. I have never seen
anyone worshipping there to date. All the practicing Muslims pray when and
where they are called to prayer. Let me tell you about ‘capochino girls’ Okay, maybe some other time. Having made it safely back to the compound, Dembe
welcomes me and invites me to sit with him and his broom. I am usually in bed
by now and am still feeling worse for wear. Dembe informs me “he wants to make
a fire”. He disappears and returns a few moments later with half a rain forest
under his arm. I need to buy some supplies before the morning so make
my excuses to Dembe and make my way to the whole sale store where I
occasionally buy water and other stuff. The guys behind the counter ask where I
had my ear stud made. I told him On returning to the compound and the warmth of Dembe’s
roaring fire, I can not explain how happy I feel at having got my visa
extended…….. ‘More Menu Items of Interest’ § Good drinking water Big Bottle = 30 D § Good drinking water Small Bottle = 30 D § God Awful Soup § Hit and S***s Friday
14th March I
wake early and initially feel okay. I get up and make a pot of tea and a pasta
mug meal for breakfast. I catch Dembe with his trousers down having a wash by
the outside tap to the side of my shed. The
cat with no name is sleeping in my favourite chair, again… The birds are
already singing everywhere. The dogs are still asleep in Anna’s front room
somewhere. I
drink my tea and feel dizzy. I subsequently decide not to take my steroids today;
I just can not afford to have another day like yesterday. I
soak my still infected and throbbing big toe in hot water contained in my water
holding invention and apply Germoline and
guess what, a sticking plaster. Ha, I found the ones Julie and Callum gave me
before they left for the I
decide to take in as many little gifts for my friends the patients today as
possible. Empty water bottles, in particular the small ones, my OTC reading
specs and half empty or full, depending on one’s point of view bottles of hand
sanitizer and bits of soap left behind by my Dutch volunteer predecessors. Before
setting off, I check and double my emergency supplies I also leave my mobile
phone on charge at the compound underneath my pillow. Yeah, I got one of those,
an old one mind you and no cover. I decide to wear my wristwatch today because
so many folk have shown an interest in the I
Phone and what a brilliant bit of kit my Seiko Kinetic is, one shake and it immediately sets itself to the
correct time right down to the second. Apparently it would do that if it had
been stopped for around four hundred years or so, yep amazing. No
problem with taxis this morning and I make it to TT at bang on 08.30 hours. I
greet all the old and the new faces with a handshake and a “Hi my friend.”
Hands and shoulders are offered in return as though by reflex. Did I mention
before that the shoulder is always offered rather than the hand if the hand is
wet, soiled or otherwise contaminated, for example if someone has been eating
and not had time to wash their hands. Baba
greets me with his characteristic and by now anticipated “woodah woodah woodah”
adding “Neville I was not expecting you today, you looked so bad yesterday, I
missed you, so sorry woodah woodah woodah. I
replied, “Baba my friend I said I would be here and I am here” “Yes
you are a good man woodah woodah” I
inform him that I might take half a day off and no volleyball today. I also add
just for good measure that sun, steroids and volleyball are not a good mix and
I am old. Paulina
asks if I would like to help with the dressing of wounds and other injuries. I
agree to be her assistant. Arona Jobe my nursing assistant friend who suffers
with the same disorder as The Elephant
Man also offers to lend a knobbly hand. I kind of like Arona. There
are not too many dressing this morning but one in particular is my favourite,
not because I have a thing for wounds but because it is getting visibly better.
Between us, Paulina Arona and I remove the filthy tape and dressing and it
bleeds fresh blood and there is no obvious sign of infection. Breakfast
is late again today and consists only of tea, actually more like warm water and
bread rolls again. Everyone is constantly hungry except the guards and the
hospital staff. I
wander across to the garden/allotment and inspect the crops. Very impressive if
I might say so, very impressive indeed. Autistic Pamela is going nuts because
one of the watering cans has been allowed to over-fill and she has got to
organise the ‘Group Therapy’ class by 10.30 hours otherwise a dirty great big
asteroid might hit the earth and send it spinning out of orbit. I leave
Autistic Pamela ranting, jumping u and down and tearing at her hair. I
retrace my steps in the direction of the OT room and cross Baba’s path. As we
pass in opposite directions I ask what he thought about my obtaining a small
silver cup or trophy that could be awarded annually to the most effective or
noteworthy nurse. I went on to add it could be called the Nev Pettitt award.
Baba thought it was a great idea, in fact, he woodah woodha woodah liked to
have thought of it himself. The
walking dead weave their way around the compound and across the volleyball
pitch which is now almost completely bare and covered in dust. I wonder who
will organise the physical activities when I am gone? Now that is not meant to
be a question but rather a genuine concern. One
thing for sure is that Linda the purple braided acting Occupational Therapist Aid
from 10.30
on the dot and I and as many others as can be rounded up are herded into the OT
room. There are two guys who are instructed to bang drums to inform everyone
that ‘Group Therapy’ has five minutes to go before kick off. 38
of us are all herded into the big OT room, each being welcomed by the purple
braided Linda from Most
folk complain about the chronic shortage of food and constant hunger. The guest
of honour today was the chief cook whose speech consisted of “sorry sorry
sorry” My
various friends introduce themselves by name and title. Actually, I was amazed
at just how many kings, queens and presidents of the universe were being held
at TT. I
never did get the chance to address all those corralled together for Autistic
Pamela’s ‘Group Therapy Session.’ Thanks’ purple braided Linda from For
some reason I decide that because I was sick for the best part of yesterday, I
would work tomorrow which is Saturday and usually my day off. I make my way
back to Kerr Serrin after taking a few sneaky photos’ of TT as it really is. Back
at the compound by mid afternoon and I am knackered and no sooner have I wolfed
down my fresh grapefruit, I have a siesta. Later I eat again at the Kebab Ji Bar and Grill because it is so
cheap and the cook likes a good natter. I
order whole chicken and rice. The chicken is very tasty but quite small by I
return again to the compound and find Dembe wearing his green wellington boots
to water the garden. It suddenly occurs to me that he is not actually watering
the plants but rather washing the dust off them. Not
a good night for sleeping. The drums and the chanting continue until 03.30 in
the morning I imagine there must be a party or something out Senne Saturday Out
of bed and have breakfast which consists of cuppa noodles chilli flavour with
extra hot sauce and a pot of tea. I start counting my money as Dembe swishes
into the compound. “Morning
morning OWZIT? “Good good, I reply. I
am tempted to go to the beach this morning but because I took time off the day
before yesterday on the grounds of being unwell, I decide to go in today and
work at least until lunch time. Taxis
no problem and I pay for the first one entirely in Bututs the round silver
coloured coin that has a value of next to nothing. Actually, it has a value of
precisely half a Dalassi. I hand the driver sixteen of them. On what turns out
to be a rather perilous journey to the turn table I reflect back over
yesterday, particularly on Autistic Pamela’s ‘Group Therapy get it off yer chest session’ Good
morning brothers and sisters I am extremely privileged and honoured to be
standing before all you psychotics, presidents and kings. The food here is not good
and we are all very hungry. Oh’ and what part of woodah woodah woodah do you
not understand precisely? I love you all. Did
I mention my idea of presenting a silver cup to the nurse of the year? I
thought it might provide something of an incentive to work hard and achieve
something. Baba certainly liked the idea. Now how do I go about arranging that? The
morning chugs slowly on with all the usual routines and rituals seeming to take
twice as long. Staff breakfasts, breakfast for the patients if lucky, today it
is that green sweet porridge again, whoopee. Next comes the medicine round
which might as well be ‘throw em in the air and go for it’ …. Dressing round
and pass the toothbrush. One
further observation, I have noticed that all Gambian women seem to have a
special design feature at the base of their back or spine, like a parcel shelf
on which I presume they rest and carry their children. For what it is worth, I
have seen many naked females here and they all have the same characteristic. I
have begun to selectively hand out my little parting or farewell gifts to the
patients. My almost blind friend Abraham who I have never seen without his grey
plastic rain coat is absolutely delighted with his £1.00 x3 magnification
reading glasses and sheds several tears whilst thanking me. My friend Ousman is
very proud of the half empty bottle of hand sanitizer. My friend Babacar is
thrilled with the empty handy size plastic water bottle and my friend Lamin x19
is over the moon with a couple of sheets of note paper. I
hand out several tee shirts a pair of cargo trousers well past their sell by
date and of course my beloved heavy boots. My magnifying glass was confiscated
by a member of staff on the grounds it could be used to make fire. I did not
have the energy to argue. All
remaining goodies were handed out in a flash to a sea of outstretched arms. I
feel exhausted and as I look up to the sky I note that Ousman’s vultures are
still circling over head. Baba
watches the whole spectacle from the doorway of his office and asks me when I
will next be in? I say probably on Wednesday with my wife. Baba obviously does
not want to miss out on receiving his ‘Tablet’
and any other goodies she might bring. Oh’
and I expect that I will be required to give a little departing speech before
being awarded my ‘I survived Thought of the Day ‘We must love people and use things We must not love things and use people’ I
fall asleep with the above message going through my mind. The original was
scribbled on a piece of card and pinned to the cupboard door in the OT room
where I leave my holdall and emergency supplies each day. Sunday
16th March 2013 Sundays
here in the I
prepare a grapefruit for my breakfast and make tea. The cat with no name is
lying stretched out across my favourite chair and the day has well and truly
begun, only with a bit of a difference because I am not working. I
think yesterday must have been one of the hottest since my arrival and the
walking certainly took its toll on me. I notice I am absolutely filthy. We
still have no electric and I have never yet had any hot water since arriving except
for that which I have purposefully boiled for drinking or bathing my foot in. This
place is most definitely Anna’s place and no one else’s. Even now with her
being in One
has to admire people like Anna and Dutch Maria and of course Mamadee the soon
to retire State Enrolled Nurse with 36 years experience that is more priceless
than gold. How many days I wonder has he bathed, nursed and consoled the girl
Jango, the girl they all call ‘Tomorrow’ Anna
once told me that “she had no faith and
that when you are gone, you are quite simply gone.” All that remained would
be just a few pictures in an album and a few flakes of DNA here and there. For
many, not even these things would likely remain for long, not even a memory.
She made me feel quite sad and insignificant when she spoke with such
conviction about these things. Anna
could have had a hospital named after her if she had agreed to the President of
the It
really does not matter where you look, there is a bird of some description
either perched, hovering, circling or dashing across a piece of sky or through
the foliage of this amazing tropical garden. Henry the hornbill still
occasionally dive bombs into the window at the side of Anna’s library and TV
room with such a clout I am surprised he has not got brain damage. It
feels as though I have been up for several hours but on checking and
re-checking, it is not quite half past eight in the morning. Dembe has just
started swishing around moving dust and leaves from here to there. The dogs are
awake and hungry. They have started sniffing around. Holly makes as if to bite
my hand but quite gently nevertheless, I do hope they are both fed soon, very
soon. I
think I have been bitten on the back of both calves by a mozzy or by a fly or
something. I have noticed a couple of mosquitoes in my room which probably
sneaked in when I went to re-fill my water bottle during the night. Hey,
I just noticed that Anna has got five microwaves in her kitchen and I bet none
of them work. I bet I never get to find out either because I bet we don’t get
any electricity before I return to the You
know something, well of course you don’t but I am going to educate you. Nothing
is ever moved here in the compound when Anna is not physically here; it just
gets dusted by either Adama or Dembe and often by both in succession. That is
just the way it is. As
I have already indicated though, Anna is always here spiritually of course. She
is the very essence of compound life. It does not matter whether it is animal,
mineral or vegetable, Anna is in it. She is in the air, in the sand and the
dust all around. It
seems strange not going into TT today yet time continues to drag oh’ so very
slowly. I wonder how many new and old wounds are being dressed with honey today
and how many tooth brushes will go missing? 10.00
a.m and Dembe is swish swish swishing outside my room and I can hear the dogs
playing with their bones. Adama is off today as well so I don’t have to find an
excuse for declining her offer of boiled rice. I will need to get rid of the
batch she prepared for me yesterday evening though before she returns tomorrow
morning. You know I never thought I would ever say this but I am sure the sound
of birds could actually send one crazy, if you ask me. It
is hot here in the compound and even hotter outside, maybe even too hot to
venture out and it is still only five past ten in the morning. I suddenly
remember Sona the young Bi-polar girl
and in particular her voice repeating the same phrase over and over… “We are hot, we are very hot, we are
very, very hot” Sona
joined in several games of volley ball and I was invited to sit in on her
pre-discharge meeting before her eventual discharge and when I think about her,
I find a spark of hope. Whereas when I think about Ana the young woman who tragically killed her own baby daughter I
feel rather sad because she is never likely to be discharged, or so they say.
Sadly, neither will Jango Jango the
girl they all call ‘Tomorrow’. There is another side to this divide you
know Beyond that fork ahead Where night and day are much the same And time my friend Weighs heavy on the shoulders, much
heavier than lead So here we are then each contained Forever bound by prejudice and
moralistic chains Praying not for health or wealth or
freedom Marking time and pausing every now and
then On the blood red dusty road to
Armageddon … Hey
Dembe, quit dusting for a moment and listen to me. Anna would be very
disappointed in you for not baiting the fly trap every other day and you will
almost certainly cop it if she finds out you never removed the dead fire finch
from the chicken run. I realise that Dembe takes me seriously and busies
himself accordingly whilst also trying to keep me in sight at all times until I
eventually leave the compound. It
is so hot and as I gaze upwards, I
notice that every patch of sky has one or two or more of Ousman’s vultures pinned loosely to it. Each one of them constantly
keeping an eye open for any major tragedy, trip crash or fall and when one
eventually occurs, then zap, they drop out of the sky…. No more breath, no more
anything at all. Hey,
we still have no electricity or water here within the compound at Kerr Serrin
but we do have lots of little mounds of leaves, sand dust and debris all
swished into Dembe sized piles ready to be moved around again when he felt thus
inclined, or Adama of course. The
tiny golden comet fish are circling around the flake of bread in the pond as I
sip my tea. They look like shards of amber and glisten like honey and open hip
wounds. The
Moral of It ain’t Rubbish Nothing
here it seems is ever discarded or thrown away. If it has any potential function
or purpose at all it would be put to one side until a use for it might
eventually be found. If however it is clearly broken and has no obvious
function or purpose whatsoever, the very same principle applies. Essentially it
would still be put to one side, just in case a purpose or a use for it might
later spring to mind. Let
us take for example the various pieces of metal and broken cookery equipment
and other utensils laying in heaps or strategically placed mounds everywhere.
Oh’ and what about the bits of greased paper that had obviously been used and
re-used countless times to wrap things up or protect stuff safely from the
elements and dust? There, that’s just the way it is here. I
eventually decide to wander down to Maddies
Beach Club and Bar and find a vacant sun lounger. I seem to have mastered
the art of getting complete strangers to spray my back with oil. I complete
eight lengths of the pool and dry off in the sun. I tend to get bored very
easily and go for a walk before returning to my sun lounger and towel for
another hour. I
leave Maddies at 17.30 and make my
way back up to the Senne Gambia Strip. When
I reached ‘Bushwhackers’ one of the
girls told me that Sol was out on a day trip and so I left a message for him.
However, as I reached the top of the hill the ‘Bushwhackers’ jeep rounded the corner toward me and I noticed Sol
was on board. Sol recognised me too and jumped out of the vehicle to have a
natter by the side of the road. I
asked him if he would try and contact Ebrima and arrange for him to be at the
taxi rank tomorrow between 18.00 and 19.00 hours. I made a point of adding that
if Ebrima did not turn up, I would be forced to hire another cab. On
leaving Solomon and after changing some money at my favourite kiosk, for some
obscure reason I ran the entire length of the Strip until I hit the busy Because
it is so late, I spend hardly any time at the compound and because I am hungry
and now short of cash, I decide to dine at the ‘Kabab Ji Bar and Grill’ again. It might be cheap here and the
service often slow but the food is usually good and I do like a glass of white
wine every now and again. The Kebab Ji
Bar and Grill seems to have its fair share of regulars, mainly ex-pats from
around the world including the As
I wait for my grilled ‘Lady Fish’ and
rice to arrive, I find myself thinking about last night’s fiasco back at the
compound and of being kept awake by the relentless drums and chanting which
went on until 05.00 hours this morning. Yes, that was really quite frustrating,
but once they eventually stopped, it was time for the birds to pipe up again. You
know, I have never known anywhere where the time drags so very, very slowly.
Minutes often feel like hours, no exaggeration at all and of course there is
almost always the sound of the birds and of the traffic in the distance. Even
when I have occasionally been able to ignore some of those constant sounds and
have begun to relax a little….. Bang, Henry the kamikaze Hornbill smacks into
the window again which sets the dogs off for half an hour or so. My train of
thought is interrupted by the arrival of my ‘Lady Fish’ and rice with hot sauce which is very nice. Have
I ever mentioned the ‘Kyphosis
Convention?’ Well here goes. A couple of days ago whilst lounging at ‘ I
am now going to introduce you to the learnt reflexes that every Gambian
acquires from birth. These by the way are not listed in any particular order ü Smiling ü Spitting ü Hand shaking ü Saying sorry There
is also a universal Gambian Law here
which you need to be aware of… Nothing ever is free here. Everything and I do
mean everything has a value and a negotiable price, a local price and a Toobab
price. Sometimes, it just pays to be black I can tell you. My
slow walk back to the compound goes relatively uninterrupted and I retire to
bed almost immediately. Monday
17th March I can’t
believe it, I have been awake since 03.30 hours because of those darned drums
and the music from somewhere along the Time
certainly passes very slowly here in the I
get up at 06.00 hours but it feels like 10.00 in the morning. Hardly any sleep
but hey, I got energy. I decide to pack my belongings and see exactly how much
extra space I have in my suitcase and hand luggage now that all the stuff for
donation has been well and truly donated. I
have fresh grapefruit and a pot of tea for breakfast. Dembe approaches me a
little cautiously, or is it my imagination? He asks if he might be excused from
sweeping duties because he needs to buy something from Serra Kunda Market. I say sure, no problem. I
leave the compound shortly after Adama arrives. She offers me boiled rice and a
grapefruit. I accept the latter but decline the rice on medical grounds. “Sorry
sorry” she says with a beaming smile on her face and a duster in both hands. I
set off in the direction of ‘ I
genuinely fear getting ill when Jill is here and dread having to negotiate the
‘Bumsters’ on the way to the
pharmacy. Please lord; let me stay good until I return to the Okay,
I am now feeling much better. Not too many Bumsters
on the way to the beach but those that do manage to stop me are persistent. My
belly thankfully holds out and I feel fine again. There are many new tourists
around and I feel black compared with
the lily white and naive Toobabs who as usual are either far too aggressive in
their dismissal of the boys demands, or who are totally fleeced by them and
become victims of the various scams that take place all around. Ebrima
yells at me as I pass the taxi rank and comes running over. I explain that I
was about to give up on him but we eventually agree where and when to meet in
order to collect Jill from the airport in Walking
beside the ‘ I
get back to the compound and Adama is in a bit of a tizzy. She asks if I have
seen Dembe. Yes, early this morning, I reply. It seems that he has gone AWOL
and Adama is not exactly delighted. I
think if I had to trust either of the two with my life, it would have to be
good old Adama. I am sure Anna was right when she suggested leaving the euro’s
I owe her with Adama and most definitely not with Dembe. Oh’ well. Dembe
eventually pitches up just as it is beginning to get dark and as I am planning
where to go for my final evening meal before Jill arrives tomorrow. I am not
really interested in Dembe’s excuses and will let Adama sort him out tomorrow
when she returns. Tonight
I decide to return to ‘Two Rays Gourmet
Restaurant’ and treat myself to a Margareta before ordering ‘Darn of Barracuda’ and rice of course.
Lovely. Before
returning to the compound, I seek out Solomon
and we have a good chat and make plans for tomorrow’s trip to the airport. Everything
is sorted, Sol assures me with a big grin. After
an all too brief chat about so many things, I wander back to my compound and
reflect upon almost as many things again. How
did I get into this, and why? I ask myself…. Well here goes. My
adventure, or should I say relationship with Tanka Tanka first began with a
brief visit in January 2012 when during a holiday with Jill, we learnt of its
existence from our Bushwhackers guide Solomon. We asked whether it might be
possible to visit and Sol immediately set to sorting it. During
what was essentially something of a brief whistle-stop tour of the only
in-patient psychiatric facility for the whole of The Gambia. I realised I was
indeed a very lucky man and vowed if possible I would return and offer some of
my time to the patients and staff of that, remote and grossly under resourced
institution. On
returning to the My
eventual response was received four months later from Anna in the form of an
apology. Apparently Anna had been seriously unwell and had required major
surgery. Now
then, I have met some incredible people whilst staying in the Several
of TT’s nursing staff were fantastic too and of course Anna whose tireless
devotion and ability to solve problems was priceless. Without any doubt, I am
indebted to a handful of individuals associated with the hospital and also to
the many patients I had the pleasure and privilege of meeting throughout my
time at TT. As
for myself, well I knew before setting out that I could not change the world
but am proud of the fact that I at least tried to and during my time in the I
am not sure whether I will be remembered or have any lasting impact on Africa
or more specifically Tanka-Tanka but I sure hope that some good will come of it
and from a purely personal point of view, I think I know myself a little more
and recognise that I am a truly lucky man. I
also vow that I shall endeavour to arrange for medication and appropriate
supplies too be sent to The Tanka Tanka Foundation via Anna who will ensure the
right people, essentially the patients of TT receive them. After all, if she
can sneak two parrots into the country in each of her coat pockets and up her
sleeves, she can surely do most things, or on second thoughts, does that say
something about the corruptness of Gambian border officials? Anyway,
I also intend to send any relevant mental health teaching material to both
Maria Van Mail and to Anna as well as devise a comprehensive ‘Induction Pack’
that should help any future volunteers who might follow ……. © 2018 NevilleAuthor's Note
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