Tracing my ROOTS.. a Homecoming,,,

The beginning of the Trail

Yesterday was an experience that I will never forget. We took a trip to Juffereh, a small town that is home to Kunta Kinteh Island.  We woke up and got dressed around 7am, which is the time Seedy told us to be ready. We went down to eat breakfast, but the cook was late to work so we came back up to the room until breakfast was ready. We ate

Idk what they were doing

breakfast around 8:30a and Seedy along with Jerreh came strolling in around 10:30am. Now from my Africa experience thus far, I should have known not to take 7am literally, but I didn’t want to not be ready so I woke up anyway. When Seedy and Jerreh arrived we had to walk up to the carwash to get the car. We waited for the car for about an hour and it wasn’t until 11:30pm that we were on our way to Banjul to catch the ferry. When arrived in Banjul we had a few issues trying to get on the Ferry. The Gambia River splits the country in half; therefore we had to get across the River to the town of Barra before we could get to the island. Our issue was trying to get the

Drinking from the River

car on the Ferry, but after 2.5 hours and tough negotiation we were finally able to board the ferry. The Ferry ride was an hour long, but I was beginning to get worried because it was already pushing 4pm.

Shelter from the rain

After getting off of the Ferry I began getting excited for what I was about to encounter. I was taking pictures of nearly everything, until we got to a security checkpoint. One of the officers saw Keyachtta snap a picture and he took her camera. He was really mean about the situation and he refused to give her back her camera. Jerreh and Seedy tried to talk to him calmly and he insisted on putting his hand in their faces and

A rainbow amongst the clouds

yelling at them. Jerreh hold a high position within the government, but the entire time he refused to use his authority to get the camera back. It took about 30 minutes for the security officer to allow her to delete the photo so that we could continue on with our journey. On our way to Juffereh we got turned around a few times, but there were always locals around to redirect us. Driving along the dirt roads it was obvious that we

The Point of No Return

were in a rural area. There were straw huts and compounds made of clay. We even picked up a few walkers while we were driving. Finally we pulled up to an arch titled Roots Heritage Trail. The trail was significant because this is the route that Kunta Kinteh and other slaves took when they were captured by the Europeans and British. Before getting out of the car I tried to imagine what it would be like to be a young girl traveling down this path knowing I may never be free again. We walked along the trail and there was a slave holding house at the end, called San Domingo. There weren’t many ruins left, but the

San Domingo

building served as a place to hold slaves once they were captured and a church for the Portuguese. After walking away from San Domingo it began to rain a little bit and then all of a sudden it began to pour down rain. We ran to try to

It speaks for itself

find shelter but by the time we made it back to the hut, we were completely drenched. Seedy then decides to say, “Let me go get the car, so we don’t have to be wet anymore.” I couldn’t believe that we could have driven the car down and avoided the rain, but I just continued to smile. We proceeded to James Island, which was later named Kunta Kinteh Island, and we could finally see the island off in the distance when we arrived at the port.. When we got out of the car small children in just their underwear rushed down to greet us. There was a statue of a person with freed shackles that said “Never Again.” That statement in itself on this island was so significant and heart-felt. We tried to take pictures

They were so happy

in front of the statue but the children kept asking to take pictures of them. I took pictures of the children and then I invited them to come take a picture with me. One of the girls had a hernia growing on her

Kunta!!!

belly button and all of the children were wet from the rain. After snapping pictures the children began to ask for “monies,” but Seedy said something to them in Mandinka and they ran off. The men of the village charged us 600 Dalasis’ to get to the island and back and 100 Dalasis’ for a ticket to enter the island. I was excited and ready to go and then Seedy says, “I’m a Muslim and I have to go pray now.”

They kept clapping for the picture

While he was praying I walked over to the CFAO Building which was once a slave trading post. Most of the building was still intact, but it had been used after slavery by the government. While I was waiting a man walked up to me and said “Sistah, welcome home! You are home now!” While we there the men referred to us as

Our transportation

“homecomers” because we were visiting the past of our ancestors. After 30 minutes seedy and Jerreh were done praying and we were finally ready to cross. Getting into the small canoe, I was really scared I was going to fall into the water. I had to sit down on the dock and jump into the fisherman’s arms to get into the boat. The ride over was about 15 minutes and I was afraid the entire time. Our journey over to the island was known as the “Voyage of No Return.” Once the slaves

Yes, I was afraid

were taken across the water it was nearly impossible for them to escape back

A Model of the Island from Slavery

over. From the island the slaves were loaded in the passage ships and taken to their destinations.  Once we arrived at Kunta Kinteh Island, you could see the cannons that were used for slaves that may have tried to escape or rebel. The island

A moment of reflection

is full or ruins, but there were signs to let you know where you were standing. There was the Slave Yard, the

This sign was mortifying

Governor’s room, the council’s room, and the cistern. There was tunnel that looked as if the slave were taken down through it in when they were boarded upon the ship. When were out in the slave yard I did a lot of reflecting. No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn’t imagine how it would feel to be ripped away from your family and your home. I could imagine the people being afraid and angry, but they were helpless in their chains and shackles. There were any

The Ruins of the Island

stories posted, nor was there a tour guide to give us a detailed account of the history of the island, so I had to create my own vision based off of prior knowledge. We weren’t on the island long, but it was long enough to imagine all of the lives that were lost and destroyed. We headed back

Jerreh and I at the passageway

to car around 7pm, so that we could make it to catch the Ferry back over to Banjul before it got too late. This time around we only waited for an hour, but it was the ride on the Ferry that took the longest. Coming back it took about 1.5 hours on the Ferry, which would have been ok, but we were already late for dinner with Dr. George. We were supposed to have dinner at 6pm, with Dr. George a locally renowned dentist who has

There was no way to escape

served for W.H.O (World Health Organization) and who has studied in the US, the UK, and Australia. We were extremely late, because we had got off to late start, but he was still inviting us to come have dinner with him and his wife. We didn’t make it Dr. George’s house until 11pm, which seemed really bad, but they were still happy to see us. Dr. George wife had prepared a traditional African meal which consisted of Chicken Yassa, Rice Benachin with Barracuda fish, Green salad, and potato salad. I was a little afraid, but once I took my first bite I was in love. The food

Traditional African meal

was spicy, but it was by far the best meal I’ve had since I’ve been abroad. At one point, my mouth was on fire and I my eyes began to

Dr. George's beautiful home

water. Mrs. George kept offering more food, but I was stuffed after a while. It had been the first meal I had eaten in nearly 15 hours! After dinner we talked about the African experience over a bowl of ice cream and mango. We took a picture with Dr. George and his wife inside of their beautiful home and then we made our way back home for the night. Although it had been a long day and I was the dirtiest I had ever been in my life from all of the rain and the mud, the day still had a perfect ending. 

                  

Introducing The Georges

A Familiar Face is Always Nice to See

The Music By the Pool

The past week was pretty chill. I didn’t do too much of anything which is why I haven’t blogged in a few days. On Wednesday I was lying around and I heard some music coming from outside at the pool. After

Enjoying the Beats

a while I went down there to check it out and there were a lot of Gambians surrounding the pool. I watched as the children danced, but I didn’t get too close because I didn’t see any other tourist enjoying the music. There was a woman walking around with her breast out and it was a bit shocking. I was trying to figure out exactly what she was doing because

Lactation room Please!

I hadn’t seen any other women walking around in the nude. Then I saw that she had been breast feeding her toddler, but her toddler kept taking breaks so she just kept her breast out. I was walking around snapping pictures and I could tell that some of the natives didn't like it, so I drifted back so that they couldn't see me while I was taking pictures. While the drummers were playing their music the rain began to fall. I ran inside quickly but I could still hear the music coming from the side of the pool. The musicians ran underneath the shed and were continuing to play their music. On Thursday I spent the day trying to get a flight home. I received news that my grandfather wasn’t doing too well and I just wanted to go home. Unfortunately, I couldn’t find a seat on one my connecting flights, so I was stuck until Monday. Friday morning my Aunt Betty from my mom’s side of the family came to visit.

Girls walking from school

Aunt Betty is truly a Gambian, she has done missionary work here for over 15 years and comes back nearly every summer.  She came by our hotel and she offered to take us to the Banjul Market in the capital city. First we stopped by her hotel to grab lunch. I ordered spaghetti and to my surprise it was quite tasty. After lunch we headed over to the market.  On the way to the market we got into a taxi with an African woman. She was excited to see Americans, she said her

The Taxi Driver had to kill a wasp

husband was living in Ohio and he had been there for 8 years already. Unfortunately, she was sad because he hasn’t come back to visit her and he told her he can’t get her a visa to join him, but she is hopeful that he will return in 2012. I felt sorry for the woman because she was waiting on her husband who will probably never return. This man probably has a new life with a new family, but he continues to string along his Gambian wife. I just know if I were her I would threaten to have him deported and I bet he would find a way to get her a visa then. I didn’t feel as if it was my place to tell the woman her husband was full of crap so I just listened to her story.

She was just adorable

Banjul’s market was a little different from the Sarakunda market. There were a lot more flies, pollution, and trash build-up. I didn’t buy too many things at this market, I just wanted to leave. My Aunt Betty was like a

Notice the Dead Hen Please

superstar at the market. Gambians were coming out of the woodworks saying Mama, or Sister Betty has returned. Nearly everyone knew her and that was pretty cool. I laughed at Aunt Betty a lot while we were out. She was handling Gambians left and right; I never knew she could be so feisty. They would try to get over on us with a price and she

Pure Balancing Talent

would tell them, “No, you’re crazy!” After the market it was beginning to get late, so we found our way back to our room. I was a little sad that I forgot to take a picture with my Aunt Betty before we departed. On the way back Keyachtta lost her camera’s pouch and we did a little backtracking to try to find it. We ran into a bumpster on the way and I just had to get really rude with him. Bumpsters are African men who try to

Taxi Bus.. whew they're an experience

seduce women because they are looking for a passport into the woman’s native country. The man followed us out of our taxi and he insisted on following us everywhere we went. We never found the wallet, but we got rid of him so we decided to go back to the room. Friday was an early night because Saturday we had a full day planned. We were going to  the isand in Juffereh, also known as Kunta Kinteh Island.

African Music and Dance

Duplex!!

My weekend got off to a bit of a boring start. I lounged around and watched movies most of the day on Friday. Around lunchtime we got a visit from the American soldiers inviting us to go out to Senegambia

After the Club

later that evening. We were taking another Friday night trip to Club Duplex. Now the first time around this club was pretty whack, everyone was standing around and I fell asleep in my chair. I was hoping for a better experience this time around, but sadly enough I was disappointed once again. There were about 5 more people in the club from the last time we were there. The music was better and people were dancing, well if dancing in their seats count. It was funny to watch the girls dancing up on the guys. In America, young people usually dance with the butts smothering the person they’re dancing with. It’s quite different in Africa, the girls dance more with knees and their hips. The hips are used for certain movements such as

African Dance

 

I was trying lol

Vivanne and I

ticking and body rolling, but the knees were being used in nearly every dance I observed. After observing for a while I was ready to go home and lie down for the night. Saturday, I stayed in the room watching movies for the most of the day once again. My evening became quite interesting when I heard drums coming from 

Felling a bit shy

In the Gambian cloth

Vivanne the African Dancer

the hotel’s courtyard. I went outside and there was a Traditional African Dance Band playing for the guest of the hotel. The band’s leader Sali invited me to come have a quick lesson before their show began. He taught a beat that was native of the music of Senegal. It was fun, but I didn’t have much time to talk to him before the show. The men of the band played 3 different types of drums. They were all made of hallow wood and goat skin. Nearly every song sounded the same, but it was interesting to watch the dancers move to the beats. Their dancing wasn’t really choreographed, but all of the women had the same style of dancing. They danced really fast and they jumped and moved their feet a lot. When I was least expecting it one of the dancers pulled me from the crowd to come dance with them. I declined and told her no thank you, but she wouldn’t take no for an answer. Anyone who knows me knows that I can’t dance too well, so I’m sure watching me imitate

Looking quite awkward

Trying to learn

their movements was quite hilarious for a spectator. Every time I tried to go sit down, the women would grab me and ask me to keep dancing. They even dressed me up in a Gambian skirt with beads to go around my waist. After their show was done, Sali invited me to take a quick lesson with him on the drums. He taught me how to make different sounds on the bass instrument with the way I tap the drum with my hand. He taught me a beat and we kept playing it over and over. Before I knew it, one of the men from the band came up beside of me and starting rapping in the Mandinka language. It was a great time and I had a lot of fun. I got Sali’s information to contact him later in the week for more lessons. After all of the dancing                                                     and lessons, I was pretty tired and needed a meal. Our hotel was a having a barbeque and they offered to bring out a plate of everything they served to the room for 200 Dalasis, or $6. The meal included fish, chicken, steak, eggplant casserole, rice, mashed potatoes, cucumber, and corn. I ate until I was stuffed and then I fell asleep. Sunday we got up and went to the market in Sarakunda, the largest

Sali was a great teacher

market in The Gambia. Keemba decided to pay our taxi fare since we told him about how he has been allowing the Gambian cab drivers get over on us. We have been paying them 500 dalasis here, and 300 there and it was only supposed to be 7 Dalasis per town! Upon entering the market all you hear is Sistah, spend your money here! This time around I went into the market with my bargaining game ready. I pissed a lot of Gambians off with my low

The Buffet!!

prices and for most of them I wouldn’t go any higher. One man started out at 700 Dalasis for an elephant bag and a lion, I talked him down to 250 for both. One man told me you are very great at bargaining. I love getting gifts at low prices, but arguing with Gambians in the hot sun was quite frustrating

My dinner

after a while. By the time I left I had spent within my price limits and bought more items than I had come for. We spent about 4 hours out at the market and by the end of the evening I was quite tired. But the bargaining wasn’t over; I even had to bargain for my dinner at the hotel. I ended up getting a great meal (chicken covered with Pineapple and cheese with a side of mashed potatoes) for 200 Dalasis, and at our hotel, that’s more than a bargain!