The Third Gambian Experience Part Two (More Questions Than Answers...).

And because I forgot to upload the photo's in reverse, the whole day looks backward... so in pictures we start with the evening and work toward morning and the words follow the right sequence... I'll re-input them later.

Photo's From The Top:-

Dance party.

Mum and son.

Amadou and another proud mum...

Pussy's kittens.

The girls turning up after school.

Ida, Baby Omar and Mariama.

So shall we ?

We could...

2x shots of 'Roots' Infants.

It's about a quarter to six am and now the chickens have started the cockledoodledooing along with the two local mullahs calling the faithful to prayer.
You know what ?
It really irritated me when I first came out here back in January because my sleep was being disrupted and although I still feel like that after a long late night there is something comforting about the sound of the mullahs.
I might be a visitor to what is still a strange or maybe different type of society to those we adher to in Europe but still and all it is something I've never really thought about before, and getting your head round it is pretty easy if you just go with the flow.
All the locals that I know from Kawsu through to Ebrima and Lamin will ring up or run over to the compound to apologise that they will be late for whatever is going on if they are going to the mosque.
They go when it's convenient and fit in their prayers when they can and I'm quite sure that their God understands and is quite tolerant about it.
I'm sure he realises that sometimes you have to put food on your family's table and rigid adherence to time is going to make innocent people suffer unnecessarily.

Unfortunately, rigid adherence to time is what we're all about this morning so it's a careful roll out from under the mosquito net and into the shower where those that had given up trying to get through the net are all sitting around complaining that they haven't been able to stick the old proboscis into my pale white flesh, when guess what comes blundering into view ?
The shower is a whirl of arms, hands, fingers,legs and droplets of water, with me fighting back against any and all incoming insects with a hatred and a vengeance I customarily reserve for those trying to do me harm...
When it's done we're about equal. I know I've been bitten at least once but I've mashed three of the little sods into the shower tray and Haddy will be about them with the insecticide when she goes in, so it's bye-bye mosquitos... and anything else stupid enough to hang out with them.
Today we are to visit some of the local schools to ask if any of their pupils would like to be represented on the second gig ?
Either singing, dancing, waxing poetic, small playlet or somesuch from their imagination either as a school or as individuals ?
Joy and I are going with Kawsu, Lamin and 'Tufa and we've been screened as this sort of thing needs the permission of the principal or headteacher and they've got the piece of paper so as soon as Joy is brought over and breakfast is choked down, we're off.
First stop is Roots Infants School, and we (The guests) are allowed to take a few pictures of the pupils who will go on to steal the show...
What really impresses is something intangible.
Not only are their manners impeccable but these youngsters, and they are quite young, are so polite and quick... A bit shy as children of that age tend to be when with their teachers, but there's a willingness to listen and learn that we in the west seem to have lost completely, and when they sang one of their songs for us there was seriously not a dry eye in the house.
We take our leave from Roots and head off up the road or what passes for it, to the next school on the list leaving the infants for the juniors.
Joy and I are invited to speak at this one, so hopefully after Kawsu and Lamin have outlined the programme we'll try and get the message across...


"The heart and soul of a country is defined by the people who live within it. This definition is not given by the teachers or the politicians or the leaders of a country, this soul is defined by the artists who work within it.
Those who paint... Not for the tourists but for themselves.
Those who would challenge the thoughts of the day with their writing or their performance, or those who would challenge it with song or music...
These people define the culture and the soul of a country, for it will be their work that is remembered in the centuries to come which defines the era in which they have lived and that is true from The U.K. to The U.S.A., China to The Gambia and all places inbetween.
It is their vision that will endure for some of those visions will travel the world and be remembered in places other than those in which the seed was planted.
The seed might have it's roots in The Gambia but the vision of the artist will be just as relevant in other countries and when these things occur there is no stopping them until it is like a wild fire consuming everything and everybody until the whole world has, if not seen that vision, then at least heard of it.
There will be those who oppose your vision... There always are.
They are frightened of something upsetting their own little world which normally involves power...
It is up to you how far you go to appease them if at all ?
It is a smaller world now since the days of your parents and grandparents and with the advent of the computer anybody and everybody can take their work and their vision to the world...
They do not even have to travel, and since that is what Joy and I do in the U.K. we would like to invite those of you who have those visions to share them with the rest of Fajikunda and The Gambia...
It is a first step and a first step only...
Some of you will complete your studies and go on to become doctors, nurses, lawyers, scientists, teachers architects and politicians...
But some will become artists, performers, playwrights, singers and musicians...
Cultural ambassadors for your country throughout the rest of the world.
The whole world is open for you to conquer with your talent, so please, think about it with your friends, families, teachers and if you have that vision please come along and share it with us at the crossing before Rex on Sunday..."

It was about the longest speech I can ever remember making but it is what I honestly feel so I went for it with differing variations in every school we visited... and the kids were listening.
One lad even asked if 'comedy' was permitted ?
"Everything is permitted for we are beyond the normal rules which govern these things...
Your only rule now should be to let 'your' imagination govern your work".
The seed is planted... Now the nurturing begins.

Four Schools in the morning...
Our only failure was with St Charles whose headmaster was out on an emergency with a pupil but we made arrangements to come back the following day in the morning.
There was no doubt some of our vocal addresses had been more successful than others but then that is the nature of things with this sort of thing...
Some are more receptive to it than others.
The really good thing was the questions.
Some of the kids who heard us started putting their hands up and asking questions trying to define the parameter of what they were about to do.
Could they critisize ? Could they make fun of... ?
Could they talk about H.I.V and A.I.D's ?
If they wrote a play could their friends be in it ?
Could do their own rap ?
Yes, yes, yes, yes...
The only no is to restriction of your vision.
You knew by some of the questions and the facial looks on the pupils when the answers hit home...
I knew one young girl would turn up and do something as soon as she'd asked her question.
The same with a young lad who we'd already marked down as the class comedian...
You just knew...
Didn't have a clue of what they were capable of, but you just knew that the pair of them had things they wanted to say and these couple of mad visitors from the U.K. had just given them the chance to come on board and make it official under the auspices of a local youth club.
After the event you get to thinking about what it is you are actually proposing to let them do ?
You have just given a bunch of children permission to do just about anything they please within a vaguely creative framework...
It is possibly a little irresponsible, bearing in mind how well criticism of authority goes down in most African countries...
Yeah... I did think about that afterwards... but whichever way I thought about it there was a feeling of confidence that maybe we'd just opened a chink of light and those kids weren't going to screw up the opportunity and both Joy and I felt that all the time.
It never wavered.
We would have to see.

One more school and a blitzkrieg on the local supermarket for a few provisions-eggs, cheese, chicken frankfurters, jams and fruit juice cartons and after a quick lunch we're free for the afternoon... Well, about an hour, actually, until the kids get home from school and the song and dance practice begins and the whole compound becomes a mass of all dancing and all singing...
Little ones, older ones, even some of the madder adults...

Joy cuts out at about 11pm and 'Tufa runs her back to the guest house while I hang around to open the compound gates to get the car in when he returns.
After which I said my goodnights and crashed...

It's the man from the mosque again...
Must be morning...

Someone wanna tell me where the nightime went...

I mean that is the time we're traditionally supposed to sleep...

Ain't it ?
We get to meet our musicians today so I suppose I ought to get up...

The Third Gambian Experience Part One (The Airplane Song).

Photo's from the top:-

Binta (In the leaf pattern dress) and the local girls, dancing up a storm

Mariama doing the same in her Chelsea kit...

Little Ida in Benfica kit.

Neighbour Ida's little'un, Omar .

Joy T. having just arrived.

The third Gambian Experience is off and under way and here we are, me and my co-conspirator from Parnassus Performance, The N.P.W/Chris Ripple X-perience and Bass Relief,
Ms Joy T.Chance, are seated aboard an early morning Monarch Airlines flight out of Gatwick on a cold November day bound for the warmer climes of Banjul Airport in The Gambia.
Well, we would be if a couple of mechanics weren't hammering nails into a wing panel to hold it in place as the previous one had fallen off somewhere...
No, I'm not joking, it fell off somewhere and since this is definitely a health and safety issue (MINE), I have no problem with it, honestly...
I just have this picture of a bloke in a Monarch Airlines suit, hammering on some foreign geezer's front door and saying "Scuse me mister, can we have our bit of wing back, please ?"
So, no problem with the guys at Monarch. Be safe, be certain and be professional and they were all of that.
Still, after flying out about an hour late, the flight being totally uneventful and with a 100 mph wind at our back we'd made up 45 mins when we reached Banjul only 15 mins later than the flight's scheduled arrival.
Nice One.
We breeze through Customs and Immigration their side (I only get problems leaving the country...
Something to do with giving up cigarettes, but more of that, later) and it's straight out into the arrivals area where Haddy and 'Tufa are waiting to greet us...
"It's Mr Chris..." yells 'Tufa, loud enough for the security guards to all turn their heads and look sternly toward the event that has just bothered their equilibrium, but it turns into grins at the giant 'hug in' that is occuring on their turf and they go about their job again knowing we might look a bit weird but we're ok really.
It's a bit strange for me as Joy is my ex-girlfriend and Haddy and Joy did not get on too well when I was going out with her, but she's a much loved friend and a great co-star/conspirator whether she's an ex or not, and I'm so glad that her current boyfriend, Kieran, allowed her and trusted her enough to come with me. (Thanx mate, I owe you a beer or something... Mine's a J2O).

Anyway, back to the immediate plot.
As soon as we get to Haddy's compound it's all out of the car and leg it inside before the village comes over to greet the guests (Hey, I'm not knocking it, it's nice) and to see if we can drink down at least one delicious cup of tea before it all starts...
No chance... We were spotted by too many...
We did get the cup of tea but I managed only half before forgetting where I'd left it in the hubbub.
Joy, being black herself, is being greeted as a long lost sister even though her parent's roots were in what was once British Guyana and hers are totally English...
It's mad, it's mindblowing and it's a lovely welcome for her and I think she really was a bit emotionally overcome by it all.
Sorry if that wasn't the case, mate, but it did look that way to me, and who's writing this anyway ?
MINE !

After a couple of hours we take her about a quarter of a mile up the road in the car to the room she is staying in for the duration of her stay.
It is basically furnished but at least she is in the village.
That means a lot to the people here.
She will be eating and rehearsing over at Haddy's with me anyway and we're going to find out very soon if it's acceptable to her ?
Joy chooses a ground floor room at the back of the guest house (It's cooler that side) and pronounces it as being better than Cairo, so that's ok, then, now it's back to the compound to greet the kids who are back from school and the rest of the village who have now found out about our arrival from the first lot...
Mothers, children, even some of the local men who have heard about why we are here, are turning up to officially welcome us on their behalf to their village.
It is one hell of an emotional moment and there ain't no doubts about that.
Joy needs her sleep and I certainly need mine, having been up nearly 36 hours, so she makes her excuses around ten o'clock after a quick shower to get the travel grime off, and 'Tufa runs her back to the guest house.
I blagged the next shower and virtually collapsed, exhausted...

Oh blimey ! I can hear the man from the mosque... It's morning.

So... It's back to The Gambia then...

So... Here we are again after one total computer crash which wiped out all the stuff I'd been keeping safe...
You know what caused it ?
A bleedin' memory stick which I'd just downloaded into to keep the files safe...
Still, it ain't the end of the world although realising I've lost all my photos and poems and the rest, is a bit of a bummer to say the least, but I've got 'real' copies of most of them and the book is on a separate disc which I now can't get into for some reason, so I won't be adding anything to that while I'm away.

The Gambia... It can't come too soon as this place (England) is beginning to get on my tits !