Charitable support – Journal no. 8
2nd to 16th December 2009
It’s almost Christmas
Hi again to all and I hope that
you are well. I guess you're all frantically preparing for the coming
festivities by now although there's little to suggest that Christmas is round
the corner here apart from a few decorations on sale in some of the shops run
by Tubab's for Tubab's.
Short trip to
Ziguinchor
D and I are currently staying in
Ziguinchor, D with her friend Richard and his two daughters and myself at the
Hotel Parquet.
The weather has been a little
indifferent of late, cloudy for the early part of the week, sunny over the last
day or two and much cooler of a night.
Trawling the
charitable organizations
Most of the week has been taken
up with visiting charitable organizations to aid the village of Ndongane.
T.O.S.T.A.N., to assist with
adult education, an American organization that pays for a tutor's salary and
educational materials, A.N.R.A.C., and G.W.R., to assist financially in the digging
of a new well and to provide better sanitation and finally an organization to
assist and support women’s local enterprise in the village. Primarily the jam making, using surplus
mangoes, all of which D set in motion last year with great success.
In addition, D and I have had various
meeting with the builders merchants to source and cost out the well
construction, chateau, or water tower, along with sourcing suppliers for
electric pumps and solar units.
All credit to D with her command
of the French language, knowledge of the village and sheer determination to see
things through.
Very early on D had the foresight
to put together a site plan and survey of the numbers of people, age range,
etc., in each of the compounds along with supporting photographs.
Cost of the well
escalating!!
One thing that has become very
apparent the total cost is greater than original thought simply because the
depth that the water table lies at, a little over 29 meters.
To excavate, all done by hand,
and build the well with bonded concrete collars locked together with steel
bars, construct a chateau and water tank; install an electric pump and solar
panels, its estimated it will cost somewhere in the region of £10,000.
I made a suggestion to D that
she should investigate purchasing a huge 10,000-litre plastic tank readily
available in the Gambia and smuggling it across the border, all of which fell
on deaf ears at the time. My reasoning, the cost of the chateau construction
and water tank all out of concrete, treated to retain water, was both a mammoth
undertaking, costly, unsightly when completed and weighed several tonnes.
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| Small Chateau & water tank |
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| Concrete lined well |
D's friend Mark managed to raise
£5,500 after successfully completing a charity walk to the top of Kilimanjaro,
leaving a shortfall of £4,500.
Waste matter
contaminating the Water Table
It doesn't end there. Most if
not all of the toilets, or perhaps I should say screened holes in the ground,
need to be re-sited, as they’re to close to the well-head and potentially corrupting
the water table.
Apparently in times of drought
as the level of below-ground water drops dramatically the accumulating fluid
waste from the toilets, much higher, is sucked back down polluting the water
source. The only means of filtering water once pulled from the well is
straining it through a muslin cloth and storing until required in an
earthenware pot.
It is of course possible to
commission a halfhearted job. This is, however, the principle source of water
for a village of 250 people, 130 cattle and various other animals. The nearest
alternative is a forty-five minute walk away.
We could do more harm than good as life is so delicately
balanced here.
Wandering round
Ziguinchor
The latter part of the week I
felt there was little that I could do to assist. Once D has the bit between her
teeth she’s somewhat blinkered and single minded in the pursuit of her goal,
discounting opinions or assistance proffered. In any event it’s her baby so
that’s fine!
I’d determined that I would
explore Ziguinchor instead, as usual on foot. We’d been invited out Friday
evening for diner and to an anniversary party on Saturday so we needed a few
things like a bottle of wine, present and a cake.
Bumping into the
Sadio family
Thursday I decided to search for
a bakery to purchase a birthday cake although not as easy as you would think.
Anyway, picture this I'm
strolling along the main street when this very attractive lady, probably early
20’s, emerged from a compound. I'm not sure who smiled at each other first,
anyway we both continued on our merry way. At some point I'd realized that I’d
gone to far and retraced my steps only to see the young lady emerge from the same
shop in the distance.
She turned, acknowledged me,
smiled, crossed the road, now and then offering a furtive glance and walked
back into her family compound leaving the gate ajar.
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| Ebou and Abali Sadio |
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| The lovely Sadio family in Ziguinchor |
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| Sarah and Mariama Sadio |
Bear with me there is a point to
this story I'm not recounting one of my sordid affairs with you just for the
sake of it.
Eventual I passed the open gate,
on the opposite side of the road, whereupon a different young lady emerged from
the compound, smiled and waved me over. I later ascertained that she was the
youngest daughter, namely Mariama.
The upshot, I spent two excellent
days experiencing the family’s hospitality, I suspect borne out of curiosity
and interest.
There are eight children, five
lovely daughters and three sons, mother, father and grandfather all living in
the one large compound.
I spent most of Thursday and
part of Friday together with the family known as Sadio, having lunch, learning
a little French and Wolof, helping Ablai with his English homework and watching
Congolese TV, an interesting diversion.
The more one travels the more
humbled one becomes. I'm not sure I’d be accorded the same response in the UK.
Unlike the Gambia where clearly
there is an agenda, namely money, it's not the case here. There is a limited
tourist presence as it's simply a jump off point for the Casamance region and
the beach resorts of Cap Skerring and the lesser Kaufountine.
It was nice to example of genuine
hospitality, clearly I responded in kind by buying a few luxury goods like some
fizzy drink and watermelon, entirely appropriate in the circumstances.
Bus to Elinkine
Sunday the 6th December we’d
decided it was time to leave Ziguinchor and head for Elinkine for some
relaxation. It’s a Diola village set along the Casamance River estuary, close
to the coast and the crossing point to the Ile de Carabane, our ultimate
destination.
It was a good journey along a
reasonable road across flat terrain, sometimes wooded and sometimes cultivated.
South of Ziguinchor, Elinkine
comprises a small fishing village of simple houses, constructed largely of reed
and bamboo, patched together with corrugated iron or zinc and plastic sheeting.
There are signs of a colonial past with concrete and asbestos blockhouses
typical of 1960' s. It would be reasonable to assume that it was once a
barrack-town possibly with a small naval force stationed here up to the 1960' s,
judging by the remnants of fenced compounds visible.
Interestingly enough the drive
through the M’omp, about 10 kilometers north of Elinkine, and the ancient
Fromager and Baobab tree forest was the best part of the journey for me.
Walk through the
ancient Fromager forest
D and I returned specifically to
M'lomp to walk through the ancient forest and visit a Diola blockhouse, now a
museum.
It was built a year ago,
supposedly in a similar style to the original design dating back hundreds of
years.
When the Diola village is
attacked all villagers retreat to the blockhouse and wait out the enemy until
they loose interest presumably.
It's a clever construction,
circular, with thick mud walls, ornate with high slit windows, I guess for
harassing the enemy, two reverse interlocking cones of reed which form the
roof, both for letting in light, keeping the inhabitants dry and providing a
central water collection point.
Interestingly enough each
ancient Fromager tree, similar in colour to the hide of an elephant, is
allocated to a specific Diola family. The base of the trunk resembles the folds
of flesh liken to those of an elephant hide.
When a family member dies one of
the ‘folds’ is hacked out to form a burial coffin. Apparently the tree is quick
to recover. It’s also used in the making of a canoe, carved from a section of
solid wood with only an axe.
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| Diola museum and blockhouse |
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| Central internal courtyard |
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| Water collection point, reverse cone roof above |
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| Note the high ornate slit windows |
Unusual two-storey
mud hut
The other interesting claim to
fame, the Diola village of M'lomp is home to two two-storey houses dating back
hundreds of years. Built almost entirely out of mud with some wood used for the
floors, some for structural support and as roof timbers.
Interestingly the house that we
visited had been in the same family for generations. The supporting columns front
and back, visible in the photograph, are made entirely out of mud and have a
10-year life span.
The house is a superb example of
its type reminiscent of a Tudor house in the UK.
Malaria for the 2nd
time!
We spent two nights at a
Campement in Elinkine namely the ‘Campement
Villageois D'Elinkine’, run by a guy from France, retired and settled now
for some years in the region.
The place comprises eight simple lodges built in
the traditional roundhouse manner with a small bathroom off.
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| Campement Villageois D'Elinkine’ |
Run as a co-operative supposedly
with money made, in part, ploughed back into the village. The grounds are
extensive, largely sandy and slope gentle down to the waters edge.
At some point I came down with
the second case of Malaria although not as severe as the first, by Tuesday I
was ready and able to move on.
Pirogue to the
‘Island of Carabane’
We headed by Pirogue across the
mouth of the estuary to the Ile de Carabane, along with a Canadian linguist
Lawrence and his Senegalese friend Francis. We met them whilst having lunch and
waiting for the ferry to leave at a local eatery.
The crossing proved interesting,
as the wind had increased progressively throughout that afternoon with the
temperature dropping noticeably. We finally arrived only to be dumped unceremoniously
off the beach in above-waist height-water some distance from the main village.
So a long walk with luggage, cold and wet a good start!
Exploring the
island
We finally settled for
accommodation at a place called the ‘Campement
Barii’, some way down the beach and the last one that we tried. We’d
dismissed the other two Campements by virtue of cleanliness, price or a
combination of both.
‘Campement Barii’ comprises a line of huts, rooms only, along three
sides, traditional in design, linked by a common terrace and overlooking a
central garden. There is a restaurant fronting onto the beach with washing and
toilets communal.
Anyway, settled for the night we
explored what little there was to see on the Island, which wasn't much.
There's
a deserted French 16th century church, village hall, Mosque, one hotel the ‘Hotel
Carabane’, three campements, a school and lots of houses in varying states of
repair or disrepair. A point of note the village of Carabane is gradually
disappearing into the sea. There's a good beach and that's it!!
Short trip back to
the UK
Whilst on the Island, I received
a call from the Thomas Cook agent based in Kotu, Gambia, indicating that they
had an available flight to the UK on the 16th December.
I haven't said
anything about returning for Christmas until now, as it wasn't clear that I
could get back. I’ll be back briefly for a month because Katherine asked me, I
miss my family and friends, I need to sign off my end of year financial
accounts and it would seem a good time to underline the last 5/6 month spent in
Africa.
Moving on
Thursday the 10th December Lawrence,
Francis and I left the Ile de Carabane, unceremoniously as our arrival
waist-high in seawater and knee deep in mud. Heading for Ziguinchor and
spending two nights at the Hotel Flamboyant, for the sake of a change and some
hot water!!
I spent sometime over the next
few days re-acquainting myself with the Sadio family before heading back to the
village of Ndongane.
African rivalry!
Saturday was anything if uneventful.
Unbeknown to me I chosen to return the day of a football match and disco, so I
guess a late night.
The football match, hosted by
Ndongane, was between Mediana and another nearby local village. What I hadn't
realized until much later on was the fierce rivalry that existed between the
opposing sides.
Everything started off in good
spirits with the local village scoring a goal in the first half. The next
minute!!
It's incredible how things
degenerate with such speed and the manner in which events seem to escalate.
With-in minutes there was a full scale riot taking place between opposing fans
and players, some brandishing 3" thick fence posts.
It was only the intervention of
the women that calmed the situation down. Thankfully no one appeared to be
badly hurt. The real causality in all of this was the host village. The disco
went on in a somewhat subdue manner, not surprising really.
Tearful farewell
Sunday I left the village for
the last time a somewhat tearful occasion and headed for the Gambian border.
I will stay at the ‘Sun Bird Lodge
in Fajara for a couple of days before flying home on Wednesday, so see you all
for Christmas.
