I don’t even like halloumi (I only ever eat it to be polite) – and yet, here, in the Desert of Dairy Products, I would quite joyfully sell my own liver for some of the salt rubber cheese.
But all is well for my calcium deprived self because my days here are numbered – it’s the final countdown - again. In six days time I will be touching down in London town.
But good news, the sweat, tears and prayers have been worth it because WE GOT SOME FUNDING Y'ALL! By some literal miracle we will be able to do a little work on the waiting shed so that all the patients fit inside while they wait to register, it stays dry when it rains and keeps cool when it hot. Praise Jesus and well done team!
In other good news, I finally finished uploading the new video to the correct Youtube channel (don’t ask... but now you mention it – it takes over a day to upload, that’s all I'm saying... but I uploaded it to the wrong channel, enough said... it took all my self control not to fling my computer and the internet router out the window and into the path of on oncoming donkey cart. 5 points to me for developing self control and growing in patience). Anyway, feast your eyes and heart upon this:
Shout out to fellow volunteer Benni who filmed, edited and graciously tolerated all my suggested edits and our subsequent artistic differences.
I must confess, over the past few months I’ve given you the edited highlights and not every day has been filled with unicorns, rainbows and gin fountains but part of me will miss being here, particularly:
Being amazed at how calmly sheep and goats will travel strapped on top of a mini bus going atleast 70kmph (this is a guesstimate because anytime I've been sat near the driver the speedo has never been working).
The novelty of pretty much everything.
People. I will miss my Sibanor people.
The abundance of mangoes, sunshine, brightly coloured birds and unusual flowers. Top of my birthday list is now a Frangipani tree (evidence I am turning in to my mother number 5,674,374).
Appreciation for all the things I have taken for granted – running water, electricity, a flushing toilet, hot water for a shower, a fridge, a freezer, internet, health and safety regulations (hate me coz I'm beautiful but I'm yet to see any fire exit signs). I am much more thankful, I realise this will probs wear off after a few days. I will miss daily reminders of dependence on God's provision and thankfulness for what I have received. God is good all the time. All the time, God is good.
Village life – everyone knowing everyone, the slower pace and living in the present because if its not in the village does it even exist?
Things I will actually not miss:
Village life – everyone knowing everyone, the slower pace, living in the present because if its not in the village does it even exist?
That cockerel that is still waking us all up way way before dawn. A suitable candidate for the main course of my leaving party perhaps?
The novelty of pretty much everything.
The precariousness of public transport - remind me to tell you about the time an ACTUAL VULTURE CRACKED THE WINDSCREEN as we were driving along in a minibus.
The many many many offers of marriage – so many I've stopped counting and its no longer amusing. I now just lie and say I’m already married.
Lack of access to dairy products. Once I'm home you will find me swimming in milk, making sculptures out of yoghurt and rolling around on a bed of cheese.
The guilt of privilege. Can't deny it, life here is hard for many people. Mine is not.
The guilt of eating a whole tapalapa in one sitting even though everytime I was definitely going to leave half for lunch and some for dinner.
So, there we go, four months in The Gambia nearly over and out. I don't know whether to laugh or cry so I think I'll just go ahead and do both - brb.
SEE YOU SOON TEAM! And don't forget to bring a cake to my surprise welcome home party - its gonna be the best cake buffet you've ever seen! x x
P.S. Organising Committee - please include a cake buffet.