SAINABOU'S WEDDING PART ONE: THE ARRIVAL...

Typical !

At the weigh-in Haddy is seven kilo’s over our already overweight baggage allowance and at £17.50 a kilo that isn’t going to be cheap…

Thankfully we’ve purchased those ‘cargo’ trousers which means another three kilo’s is taken out and stuffed into what remains of pockets and we only have to pay for another four.

I’m wondering if I can actually carry anything else ?

Every pocket is stuffed full of electrical stuff from mini-disk recorders to transformers, microphones, batteries, leads, recipe cards (don’t ask) and God knows what else, so the first thing we do when on the aircraft is transfer some of it to hand luggage so we can actually fit into our seats.

I don’t know why these people insist on such a shitty baggage allowance when you can carry it all about your person, but they do and although it’s inconvenient for a few hours we’re still taking it, and we’re still not paying for it and what is more, THEY are still transporting it in the cabin.

There is no film on the flight as we’re not going with our usual airline, so we’re all stuffed in like sardines on an Easyjet long haul and fun it isn’t, but finally we’ve landed…

A dash through  immigration so we can get a trolley at the other end to get our seriously overweight suitcases through the pack, but knowing a couple of the baggage handlers holds us in good stead.

The usual question at immigration ‘Where am I staying ?’

Answer.  In the family compound at Fajikunda with my wife who’s just gone through…

And I’m waved in.

‘Thank you’

 Through the scanner and I’m done.

God !  The look on ‘Tufa’s face when he sees us…

Haddy had rung him and told him that someone was bringing some baggage through for us and he’d have to be there to collect it.

Surprise surprise !

So now he can’t warn the kids that we’re coming,

                                                    

and after stopping at the supermarket at the top of the road for some ‘items of importance’ to whit: Beer, Ginger Beer, Coca-Cola and Fanta, we’re there.

At which point, just as we’re getting out of the car, Housainatou opens the compound gate and shrieks…

It’s another five minutes before we can extricate our legs from the hugs of the shorter members of the family, but it gives us time to catch our breath before the inevitable question…

‘Right… What’s happening ?’

The mobile ‘phone masts must have lit up like Christmas trees because within ten minutes of us arriving the compound is chock full of people coming over to greet us.

Unpacking is a luxury and is not even attempted.

Unwinding from a six hour flight is paramount but seems beyond the horizon right now.

Now is meet, greet, make calls and send more texts.

Mamjarra

Mamjarra & Housainatou

Aunt Rose' daughter, Mamjarra, is staying at the compound and will be leaving tomorrow morning.
That was previously arranged, we're not actually turfing her out.

We couldn’t unpack anyway as I think we’ve brought clothes for half the country, and not just half the

village.

Sainabou has to get in touch with her husband to be and get him to send his delegation to us on his behalf to arrange the marriage while Haddy arranges for the Imam and elders and councillors from the local mosque

to do some negotiating on my behalf as I don’t speak the local languages to any great extent.

(About five or so words, actually...)

Sainabou, of course, is not at home and has her ‘phone turned off.

No guesses for where she could be, then ?

Boy, is she gonna get a surprise when she comes home…

Thankfully, one of the councillors speaks pretty good English and so we have a quick practice for five minutes and at the end of it we both know we can do this, so everything SHOULD pass off acceptably when we do the real thing ?

Marriage contracts are completely alien to me, so this is going to be a first.

Haddy and the guys from the mosque have made their minds up.

It’s going to be 6000 Dalasi plus all the extras which include cloth/clothing for me and the money to get it made, and Sainabou’s real Mum (Haddy adopted her when she was about seven) who is coming from Casamance.

Since I’m supposed to be dressed in white then my wedding outfit is going to be pressed into service again.

Buba’ Sainey and the mosque guys seem to have everything in hand on our side so now it’s just a question of waiting until we hear from the groom’s party.

Bloody hell !!!

Where are we supposed to sleep ?

There are clothes everywhere.

On the bed, on the floor, all in piles with a post-it note attached with a name on it.

At which point Sainabou turns up.

Yep.  You were right if you’ve been reading thus far…

She was round the prospective groom’s place.

After we’ve given some of the clothes away it’s close to midnight but at least now we have a bit of bed to sleep in.

I don’t know where we’re supposed to stand though ?

Going arse over tit by stepping on the wrong pile of clothing is a definite possibility.

No…

You’re having a laugh.

Apparently the first wedding presents are beginning to turn up and we only got here six hours ago…

Sod this, I’m off to my bed.

I’m knackered and the rest can wait until tomorrow.

THE FAMILY GUY

Work work work.

That’s all there is.

Haddy is now on nine hours a day and enjoys the atmosphere where she’s working, so she’s cheered up some.

The full time staff seem to appreciate her efforts and she seems to be happier ?

And I just work, work, work…

Gimme overtime that I might have excess of it and that I might make some money because it looks like I’m going to need it ?

I’m going to be a Grandad.

My eldest daughter, Jo Ann is going to make me a Grandfather at Christmas sort of time

Hmmm… ?
Grandad ?

Will I feel any different or is it just a term of endearment ?

I don’t know, but it’s going to be an interesting journey.

And…

Sainabou wants to get married.

Ouch !

And...

I've got a chance to get a copy of The Grateful Dead's box set of the complete 1972 tour.

Apparently there were 117 copies left after I'd already had the e-mail to say it was sold out and just for a change the roulette wheel went in my direction...

Sorted.

Mind you, I had to make a special journey to tell my bank not to stop the funds...

YIPPEE !!!

We definitely live in difficult times.

Is there that much overtime I can do without killing myself in the process ?

Who knows, but I’ll have to give it a go, and hope that the warning procedures are working ?

The back garden allotment is beginning to bear fruit (and veg' for that matter)

Haddy's done a marvelous job of nurturing the plants.

We've got tomatoes, peppers, chillis, grapes, potatoes, onions and a few herbs as well.

The girl definitely done good.

My father’s health is getting worse.

Mum, Dad and Haddy

Mum’s distraught, but there’s nothing anybody can do other than what they’re doing.

It’s soul destroying.

The Dead box set appears...  It is an amazing document.

Seventy two cd's in a limited edition box set of 7200 copies.
I'm going to be in Dead heaven for months.

November comes and goes and we’re no nearer going to The Gambia…

Not even close.

No Tobaski with the kids and the ‘extended family…’

(Don’t worry, you’ll understand the expression properly a bit further up the line}

It’s soul destroying.

But we did get one humongous surprise...

I got invited to the Mayor's Pride of Stevenage Awards Dinner.

Apparently I'd done such a marvelous job in the area in which I was working that it had been noticed and picked up on radar by the 'Powers Behind The Thrones' at work.

You could have knocked me down with a feather and I actually rang the Mayor's secretary to ask if they were taking the piss ?

(True)

No, she said.  

It's definitely you that the Mayor wants because you've done such a great job...

Gobsmacked doesn't even come close to describing it.

Ok, we're coming, I'll put my glad-rags on... Darling, shall I wear my bandana ?

'*X&XZ*$*' !!!!

I take it that means no ?

Vindication ?

Justification ?

The only member of the council's cleansing department to get an invite.

Haddy and The Mayor, Councillor Carol Latif.

The only bug-bear being that when we turned up, I was asked how I'd managed to actually do the job when the previous occupants of the job hadn't ?

I didn't really want to tell them the truth but they kept on and on and so I did...

'Easy... I just ignore all the complaints...

The problem is logistical and so everything else I ignore.

Just keep on with the same route and when you get to a complainant, do the job they've complained about.

If you keep chopping and changing then nothing gets done...'

Now imagine the sound of jaws hitting floors...

'Well however you've done it, you've done a wonderful job...'

The above is a direct quote (I have witnesses)

The big boss manager of our lot spotted me there and asked me why I was there ?

'I was invited...  What's your excuse ?'

Oh well, no promotion for me again...

Still, it was a good night and Haddy enjoyed it.
The meal (We had the chicken) was excellent.

Me (Note Jerry Garcia designer tie) The Mayor and Haddy

Apparently the wine was quite enjoyable too, but I'm an orange juice drinker at all do's so I wouldn't know.

It was the first 'Official' do that Haddy had ever been to in the U.K. and the fact that her husband had been invited on 'merit' as opposed to any other reason pleased her no end.

God, I love that woman...

Fatou, Haddy’s eldest daughter, and her husband Vincent also pop round for a visit which pleases Haddy no end.

It’s only for a weekend after Vincent has delivered a car from Glasgow to the buyer in London, but it’s great what it does for Haddy.

Fatou and Vincent are going to visit Vincent’s family in Ghana in December and both are seriously looking forward to the trip, but right now Fatou is visiting Mum and that is special for both of them bearing in mind they haven’t seen each other for a couple of years.

Of course there is the odd problem or two…

It turns out that the shoes that we’d promised Mariama and Jalika which were supposed to be sent via Fatou because we’d sent them to her over three months back have still not been despatched.

So… No ‘us’ for Tobaski, and no new shoes either…

The last pairs of school shoes had given up their ghosts after one week’s wear.

(More crappy Chinese made junk)

So we’d invested in a couple of pairs of Clark’s for school.

But… Fatou, being in a ‘save money for the trip to Ghana’ sort of mode had not sent them out.

This resulted in a very pissed-off Mariama blagging her elder sister’s mobile phone and ringing Fatou to tear her off a strip for promising and not delivering…

Which results in the usual ‘How dare you talk to me like that, when I get hold of you I’m going to beat you senseless’ routine from Fatou, and a rejoinder from Mariama that 'If you can’t tell me the truth then don’t bother talking to me…'

Needless to say, neither of them are prepared to back down.

Let’s play Happy Families shall we ?

Who wants to be Mr Bun the Baker ?

Haddy says she’ll speak to Mariama about it, but… Fatou knew the kids were desperate for shoes, so…
We take a sad leave of them at Luton from whence they'll be flying back to Glasgow.

Finally the thaw comes in early December when baby Estrella

(that’s pronounced Est-ray-ya by the way) is born.

Jo and her partner Toni are just…

Words fail me.

Over the moon ?

Glad the pregnancy is over and mission accomplished ?

Ecstatic ?

Happy ?

Jo and Estrella

All of that and more, and I’m not really that far behind them.

Neither is Haddy.

It IS quite an amazing feeling.

Anyway, let’s not get too goooey and gushy…

Work at work.

Work when I get home.

It’s mostly phone calls and e-mails and it’s Rhythms Of The World stuff.

Thank God it seems to be flowing smoothly this year…

At least I’ve got 75% of my artists slotted in.

I know who I want and once these are in place the rest seem to slot into place quite naturally.

Not too many poetry slots for the next one as most of the artists want 45minute slots or longer…

Musicians ?

Huh !

Oh well, it’ll work itself out.

Apparently the cut-off date is March 31^st when all the details have to be in.

Shit !

It gets earlier and earlier year by year.

Sounds like I’m moaning doesn’t it ?

Nah…

It’s just a gripe.

A minor irritant.

Truth is, I feel flattered and privileged to be involved.

That little stage is an embodiment of one hell of a lot of what I and a few other like-minded folk and musicians believe in.

And you don’t knock that shit.

It’s far too important for that.

Also...

(And this is even more important...)

One of the things Rhythms of The World always does is to get the local schools in the vicinity to design all the banners that festoon the site when the festival is on, so...

My kids go to school in The Gambia and my stage only has a borrowed backdrop, so why couldn't the kids in The Gambia design The Arcadeclectic Stage's backdrop ?

Drop the school a reasonable 'donation' and involve them too.

It's Rhythms of THE WORLD after all.

Good idea, Chris... You're on.

Sorted.

Or it will be if Haddy and I have anything to do with it ?

Christmas comes and goes and I spend most of it working.

I actually had Boxing Day off.

It’s a source of constant amazement to me how much stress and pressure a body can stand before the breakdown hits ?

But needs must and we need.

Could have done without the snow, though.

Finally we book the break.

We tried travel agents but they couldn’t come up with anything in our price range so we’d gone to the internet.

We got the flights cheaper than last year but it’s a whopping great rip-off for the luggage and food, so by the time Haddy is finished with our luggage we’ve spent twice as much again on the excess.

All I need to do now is to persuade her not to take a single item more.

(The writer is now collapsing into a laughing heap…)

I want to take some stuff out for Mariama and Jalika and so I’ve said that my twenty kilo is inviolate.

To whit:  Ain’t NOBODY gonna crash it.

It’s ALL MINE and if we take anything over then it has to be paid for upfront.

But… We’re sorted for the 27^th of February and I’ve managed to persuade work to give me three weeks on the trot by a bit of judicious juggling, so we’ve at least got time to do the stuff we need to do appertaining to Sainabou’s wedding.

The problem as Haddy sees it is that she doesn’t know the bloke Sainabou wants to marry at all.

She tends to know three quarters of the population of the country, but this guy seems to have slipped off the radar…

She’s made enquiries and sent her spies out, but they haven’t come back with much so she’s getting more suspicious about it by the hour, let alone the day.

Still… Sainabou is adamant that he’s the guy she wants to marry and you can’t really go against that.

You can talk to her until you are blue in the face about your suspicions, your fears, all the stuff parents go through.

But if they’re adamant then that’s it.

It’s their decision (or it bloody well should be, for any ‘arranged marriage’ fans who might have stumbled into this ’ere blog by mistake)

So we’d relegated it to the back-burner for a while because we couldn’t get out there.

Now, being imminent, we have to make all the arrangements within a three week timescale.

What’s that famous line that comes up in these situations ?

‘The impossible we can do at once, but miracles take a little longer…’

Damn right !

Make the arrangements, meet his parents and representatives, make or buy all the clothes, seal the marriage...

And all in three weeks ?

As ‘Father of the Bride’ I’m going to have to be on my best behaviour, but I’m just going to go with the flow.

So long as I get a reasonable translator for my official bits I reckon I should be able to hack it ?

Although whether Haddy or I get anything resembling a break out of the whole thing is open to question, but at least I’ll be out of cold, damp and very miserable England.

Just before we fly out, my brother flies in.

Then we learn that Jo is bringing Estrella over to see Great Grandad but that will be while we are away.

Great.

Did we all book tickets the same week ?

Yep.

It turns out we all booked in a forty eight hour period totally independently of each other.

Oh well, can’t be helped.

We manage to see brother Pat on his first day in the country before he visits our Mother.

It turns out that he’s been clocking up hotel ‘hours’ instead of ‘airmiles’ so he’s booked us into the airport’s hotel as a present for the night before we go.

That means I can drive there Sunday, relax, sleep, get up and go in the early hours rather than having to stay up all night.

Brilliant !

The only bug-bear is that the long-stay car park is miles away, but I’ve used it before so at least I know where it is.

Things are looking up.

THE 'CHARITY MICRO' FESTIVAL'

The weekend before it’s due to occur we took a drive to Bedford which is about two-thirds of the distance.

I haven’t been to Bedford for about fifteen years so it’s about time it got checked out again for how easy it is to get through it.

I have a big hole in my mouth which my tongue keeps falling into, and I dribble occasionally because of it, but at least the pain is receding.

Want to know the best thing about Bedford ?

An argument in a charity shop between me and some toffee-nosed bitch who was brow-beating the poor assistant (and lying through her teeth in the process).

All I did was pipe up and tell her that what she was telling the poor lad was totally false and the actual legality was blah, blah, blah…

It didn’t go down too well and I was told to mind my own business.

Sorry, can’t do that.

If you’re not going to tell him the truth about returning unwanted items which the shop have no reason to exchange just because you’ve (a) worn them once and now want a refund, then I’m going to quote chapter and verse from the Sale of Goods Act whether you actually like it or not ?

This made her even more irate whilst I remained as ‘cool as a cucumber’ which, as people know, is not really my thing at all, but I can do a pretty good act.

If the goods are not faulty, and are ‘fit for purpose’ then ‘Caveat Emptor…’  Let the buyer beware.

No shop has to give a refund.

Not even Marks and Spencer’s, whose returns policy has been a pain in the arse for every other honest retailer for years.

The selling of goods through a shop is, in legal-eze, ‘an invitation to treat’ and nothing more.

Anyway it ended with the toffee-nosed twat shouting at me at the top of her not inconsiderable voice before stomping off through the shop doorway…

Don’t worry mate, and don’t take any crap from the likes of her… Check the law, you can do it on the internet, and don’t worry…

Haddy of course, is not impressed.

Why did I have to get involved ?

Because I’ve been selling stuff for over thirty years one way or another, and I hate lying bastards who want their own way and tell lies to get it.

Does that answer the question ?

Oh well, I’ve done my good deed for the day, let’s go home and get a cup of tea…

The following week we hit Olney.

Down the end of a long country lane was the pub in whose grounds the event was taking place.

Haddy, Toni & me

One large truck-bed stage and quite a few stalls.
Even one supporting a Gambian charity.

And unfortunately then it started to rain…

And it rained…

And it rained…

And it rained some more…

I rang Jon after we’d been there an hour to see if he was going to make it, but it turns out he’d been taken ill and wasn’t going to make it.

Shame.
Sensible, bearing in mind it's pissing down, but a shame nevertheless.

The bands that had arrived were beginning to back up.

Some just cancelled altogether and went home if they’d arrived in the first place, but a few hardier than the others, stuck around.
The rain was constant and didn’t end till after 4.30.

Two acts had played between 12.00 and 1.00pm but the stage had been awash since then and it had been nothing doing.

Disappointing for Toni’, but she’d persevered, bless her.

There was no way that I was even going to attempt to infiltrate those performers still around as what audience was there, would only be interested in music, so we told Toni’ we’d be back tomorrow and would make sacrifice to the Sun God when we got back home just to see if we could clear the weather.

It didn’t exactly work, but it must have made an impression because although we drove up there in pouring rain, it had stopped just as we arrived.

Toni’ was a lot happier because things were going to start on time, but unfortunately a lot of the stallholders hadn’t come back and so it looked a bit sparse, but at least today was all systems go.

Most of the acoustic oriented acts were doing thirty minute sets while the electric acts were going for forty five minutes and my three sets were at 3.00, 6.00 and 9.00pm at fifteen minutes a throw.

Not brilliant from my perspective, but a whole lot better than yesterday.

My first set followed three acoustic singer/songwritery types and I must have done something right because the applause when I’d done was louder and twice as long than the three of them combined, so that was a result.

‘Too earnest by half’ would have been my review of their sets.

One lad had an absolute hatred of The Daily Mail and that was all that came across in his thirty minutes.

Most people there could have told him that there were worse things happening in this world than The Daily Mail and their readers, but hey, whatever rocks your boat ?

It just seemed an almighty waste of his allotted thirty minutes.

After me we got a couple of electric rock acts…

Interesting to see another area’s aspiring superstars and a couple of them seemed ok to my ears and outlook, but generally speaking I think our area definitely has the edge ?

                                                                                 











Then it was back to me again.

I dunno what it is with my sets ?

You play a place you’ve never played before and the strangest things become smash hits from the stage…

I’d written this thing entitled ‘Last Night My Girl Went Down On Me’.

Great title, because it conjures up certain thoughts in people’s minds.
Despite the title it's even 'child friendly' and although everybody tends to gasp at the title and the opening lines, when the punchline comes they all tend to laugh.

It is, in fact, about a puncture in a blow-up doll and it seems to get the blokes rather than the women in the audience every time.

It certainly got the local publican who had given his permission and land for the festival.

He was still chuckling and telling his punters about it an hour after I’d finished.

I’m glad he enjoyed it.

Personally I think my second set was the best set on that stage so far that day, and no, I’m not blowing my own trumpet.

I’m being totally objective.

Did the audience ‘get it’ ?

Yes.

Did they enjoy it ?

Yes, if applause and laughter have anything to do with it ?

Neither too serious, nor too comedic.

Not that it’s for me to say, but I seemed to get it right ?

People were ‘entertained’

And that’s what occurs (if you’re lucky) when anybody is on stage.

Can't remember the name of the band but this lot were quite good ...

Another couple of rock acts to follow and then…

Sod it !

The rain, which has held off all afternoon comes back in bucketloads.

That wipes another hour off stage times so we're going to call it a day and split, which is a shame because the band that are currently on stage have a member of The Foundations as their lead singer (remember 'Baby, Now That I've Found You' and 'Build Me Up, Buttercup' ?) and they are bloody good...

Tight and funky in a real Rhythm and Bluesy sort of way and everybody seemed to be enjoying them, but...

If the rain stops, those that are there are going to prefer music anyway, so…

Thank the stage guys and crew for the sound and their efforts on my behalf, the publican who is still chuckling, and Toni’ for the event and her efforts, and we’re on the road…

Thinking about it afterwards, it was a strange, but enjoyable event.

In the face of such adversity it’s amazing what people do if they have a vision of what can be accomplished ?

But when all is taken into account, if it wasn’t for people like Toni’ Harrison then it wouldn’t have occurred anyway, and that girl deserves a medal for even attempting to engineer something like it.

Even if nobody else does, Toni, I salute you.

Shame about the rain, but what the hell ?

The fact is, you did it…

You.
You got by with a little help from your friends...

And for that, and that alone, you are deserving and worthy of a lot more respect than you are probably going to get ?

As for me, if some remember me at some other gig, then I did the job.

Best of all, my mouth held out.

I didn’t gob, dribble or drool all day…

Panic over.

TOOTHACHE

Amazingly, as soon as we returned from Cropredy, the e-mails started appearing from Toni’ regarding a ‘charity micro’ festival’ up in the wilds of North Bedfordshire.

Apparently she knew Jon Falconer and he’d recommended me to help find some more poets for this particular event…

That, I can do.

Grant is still out of action but I’m sure some of the others would be interested…

Yeah, right !

Not a glimmer.

Oh well, looks like it’s down to me and Jon, then ?

No problem.

If it all went according to plan then there would be two stages.

One for the main electric acts and one for acoustic acts and spoken word, unless of course somebody came forward with a donation to enable them to get another marquee, in which case us poets would have our own.

Being the tart that I am, I don’t care one way or another, but poetry only is never a really good idea unless you have a major headliner like John Cooper Clark or Attilla The Stockbroker or Pam Ayres…

Somebody reasonably well known for that sort of thing anyway ?

Otherwise you do tend to have problems creating an audience, therefore option one is favourite.

Back to work in the morning, and even Haddy is impressed.

She’d dumped the agency she was with since arriving on these shores, for not giving her any hours (One day in one month) and gone with another.

They’d texted her with an offer of four hours.

At least it’s a start.

You ever had toothache ?

I hadn’t.

Maybe I was one of the lucky ones, but Jeezus H Christ I was having problems…

I was in agony.

So…
A trip to the dentist who gives me a serious bollocking about not going to see him often enough, but at thirty five quid a throw twice a year, I think he’s taking the piss ?

Why bother them unless you need them ?

Now he was needed, but I can’t get an appointment until next week…

Well, I couldn’t take it.

I was down the local hospital Accident and Emergency…

They were going to have to do something because I was in agony.

Literally banging my head on the wall to put some pain somewhere else to think about ?

It took an hour but the emergency doctor saw me and gave me some pills for the time I needed before the dentist appointment.

Painkillers…

I tend to use paracetamol because I’m allergic to aspirin.

If I take aspirin I end up looking a dead ringer for a certain Mr John Merrick.

The Elephant Man.

My eyes and throat close up and I start looking more gruesome than usual.

Anyway, I got some painkillers and they saw me through the weekend because I wasn’t working…

Monday I arrive for work as usual, and everything is going ok until this old lady taps me on the shoulder and asks me if I’m feeling alright ?

‘Yes love, apart from the toothache… Why, what’s the matter ?’

‘Are you taking anything for it ?’ she asks.

‘Errr… Yeah… Why ?’

‘Because you are literally dancing with death in the traffic, dear…  You’ve literally walked out in front of two buses, three cars and a dustcart on a main road while I’ve been watching you...’

Oooops !

Hmmm… Maybe this codeine shit is a bit strong ?

I dunno, all I know is I’m on 60mg a whack ?

Oh fuck… I can see where this is going.

Ring the boss and tell him because otherwise I’m a total liability.

‘Excuse me, but could you please tell my boss what you’ve just told me ?’

Bless her… She did…

And I was immediately sent home.

Too stoned to work.

And legal too…

It means I won’t be doing any overtime over the bank holiday and that is seriously going to hurt financially and don’t I know it ?

Dentist Wednesday and I’m off until then.

‘Ok…  You are having two out, now hold on because this is going to hurt you more than it does me…’

I think I could have told him that ?

Christ !!!

That hurts.

There is no way I’m going back to work this week…

Which is what work told me anyway.

Two teeth together on the same side equals a double portion of AAAAAAARRRRRRRRGH !

The dentist gives me more painkillers and now I understand what Buffy Sainte-Marie was singing about all those years ago…

And that was just one cod’ine…

I’m taking three.

Finally back to work after the bank holiday.

That festival is coming up in a couple of weeks…

I hope I can talk otherwise my set is going to be quite short ?