Anyway, my sisters gathered round, tossing out ideas for names while the boys tried to wrestle the dogs out from between the bricks and my fence. The girls settled on “Leo,” the heartthrob in our favorite TV show, a Mexican telenovela. I took one look at my siblings and another look in those puppy dog eyes and agreed. We’d keep him.
I desperately needed a pedicure. I mean desperately! I should have taken a “before” picture, but it truly was too embarrassing. My feet have taken a beating since coming to The Gambia because I am always in sandals, or worse, barefoot. Now that the dry season has come, the calluses on my heels hit an all new-level of gross. But, silly me, didn’t bring a pumice stone! So, Gambian pedicures it was for one girl weekend in my friend Mish’s village.
When I started a pen pals program between my elementary school in The Gambia and various classes in the States, I honestly had no idea what I was getting myself into. I thought a letter exchange could be a simple first project for me to start. What I forgot, however, is that nothing is simple in West Africa.
School starts at half past 8, but on the first day, students wandered in through the gates closer to 9. Not a single child brought paper or a pen. But at least they showed up, which is more than half the teachers can say. Fifteen teachers failed to report, and one came with her baby tied to her back.
I love all the Gambian breakfast porridges that my sisters typically cook for Sunday morning breakfast. Here’s a look at what the Jolas call “chorai” (pronounced with a long I). A more universal Gambian term for the dish is “Chorah gerte.”
