Reflections on my service...

Now that I'm leaving Budapest and heading back to The Gambia, I thought it'd be a good time to reflect on the past 19 months I've had. As most of you know, the highs have been sky-high and the lows have been some of the lowest I've ever had. But throughout it all, I've had the most incredible support network [both in The Gambia and home], and I just want to THANK YOU all for being you. YOU are amazing. YOU have touched my life, and assisted my work here in more ways than you will ever know. YOU are in my heart, in every breath I take, in every thought I have.

I was visiting with one of my friends the other day... I always pass by her compound in the evening when I go for my daily walk into the bush behind Kuraw. She greets me with a smile, showing me her swollen thumb, expressing her concerns about getting better by the time the rains come so she can use her 'darbo' [hoe] to work her groundnut fields. I nod, amazed as always at the beautiful strength exhibited in each woman I have met here. I settle into her house as she starts calling the women in nearby compounds to come over and visit.

Before I know it, there are 7 women cracking peanuts in a 6x6 room and Sirra [my host sister] and I are squished into a small bench. The small tin of condensed milk [ley] and bag of sugar I have brought is excitedly passed around to Jansaba, who has collected the hot coals and starts heating the tiny blue kettle. They are all chattering happily and I am content.

Jansaba suddenly turns to peer at me...
"Isatou, you don't have a husband? What happened to Malik?" she asks me.
"He was never my husband..." I answer awkwardly. "I'm not ready, you know this! All the time you ask me this, Jansaba."
She giggles, then looks down to punch two small holes into the can of ley. "I miss my husband."
I wasn't sure if I heard her correctly. She was married? She looks so young!
"Where is he?" I ask. Sirra's head falls delicately into my lap and she starts to snore.
"Italy." She starts to clean the shot glasses used as drinking cups for attaya and ley. "He has been gone 6 years. Sometimes he calls."
"Why hasn't he sent for you?"
She shrugs her shoulders.
"But... you love him?" I ask, which may seem foolish, but a legitimate question in a land of arranged marriages.
"OH YES!" She exclaims, standing up. "I don't take boyfriend because of my love for him. Sometimes it seems so big I think it's not possible. Other days I think I cannot remember his face."

Is this what love is? I couldn't help wondering. So many people in this world are on the quest for TRUE LOVE, but is this an example of it? Waiting for a man who never gets in contact with you, who has probably married another woman who doesn't know you exist? And yet, clutching that one picture you have of that love at night while tears roll down your cheeks, only to awake before dawn to begin your relentless days of tirelessly taking care of his family?

Jansaba is a martyr of love, the epitome of a devoted woman. I pray that love will find her, that this isn't the case for her, that all she has ever wanted will return home to her... and to fill her open, awaiting, empty arms.

Budapest

This city is absolutely beautiful, and while it has been cold and rainy, Jessi and I have been having an incredible time! We've walked everywhere, from Gellert Hill to the Castle, all the way to the Jewish Synagogue and back to Matthias Church. We've gone to TWO MALLS [!!!!!!!!!] and had our pictures taken with a small Hungarian girl [still not sure why]. It's been a beautiful trip.

Tomorrow we leave for Slovakia and I cannot wait to see what it brings! :]

Headed to Kombo

Time to burn everything before the bush fires come...

I realize it's been an incredibly long time since I've written here, but I wanted to write a quick story about when I was traveling to Kombo.

As most of you know, it's pretty near impossible to get out of my village, unless I want to do one of two things: 1. bike 40km to Basse at 6/am to catch a car or 2. walk 4km at 5/am to catch a car out of Diabugu that goes to Basse and from there, 10 hours of travel time to Kombo. Neither of these are that appealing to me.

I lucked out when my good friend Ismala called me to tell me he was making an east-to-west trip from Wuli district to Kombo via north bank road... all I had to do was sit on the road around 7/am and he'd pick me up.

I walked to the road around 6:30... Kuraw is beautiful at that time of day, it's quiet and the women are all on their way to the garden, so I was able to greet them as they walked by.

Within a few minutes, I heard my name being called and turned around... 2 of my sisters were sprinting down the road from Kuraw to sit and wait with me.




They sat with me for 2 hours, waiting patiently for my car to arrive, chattering away about how they hoped I'd come back and that it wasn't time for me to go home to America yet. I [of course] became emotional, as my time is drawing near... I feel it every time I hug them, or snuggle them at night on the bantaba, or whenever Sirra offers to buy me a mintee from the bitik with her 50 bututs. It got me to thinking... how am I ever going to leave this place, knowing I'll never see these beautiful girls grow up?





...something I can't concentrate on at this time. I'll face it when December comes.