Soon it is going to be one month since my arrival from Gambia
and I still ask myself every day, what do all that I have met are doing at this
very moment. All the while I am delaying the day when I will write this and
today I said to myself, Veronika, now is the time. We always have a choice
whether we do things in life with heart and soul and let ourselves go, leading
us to all directions where we are intended to go, or based on different reasons,
we view, visit and meet a new environment from a more touristic perspective. I
knew that many things will change after one month, but I did not know yet that
I would leave such a huge part of my heart there.
It all began many years before, when I was a little kid and my
mother promised my sister Neja we will go to Africa one day, to the elephants
and giraffes. This wish and this promise lead all of us to the point where one
year ago my mother adopted a girl named Kumba who comes from Gambia. Not long
after she bought the flight ticket, visited the family, spent two weeks with
them and the rest of the extended family and after coming back, I was not sure
what had happened. Happy, healed, smiling, optimistic, but a crying mother all over,
who was standing with suitcases at the airport. She told me “This is not a
different world, this is a different planet.” I understood the words but I did
not understand the meaning as you, who reads this, do not understand it as
well. It is hard to imagine life on the other side of the world, where they do
not know hate, anger or unhappiness. That is why I know that to the majority of
us girls, the shock was bigger coming back home rather than to get used to the
Gambian life, for which I can only say it really is a different planet.
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| My mother Mojka with Kumba |
Even just days before departure I did not have a clue what I
was doing. I am not sure I was aware where I was going, what will change and
that I will soon be in Africa, there, where it is always warm, the sun as well
as the people. Together with my sister we were sitting on the suitcases in the
apartment and told to ourselves »ow, you know that tomorrow at this time we will
already be in Africa?« which was followed by silence and kind of a little
smile, because we knew that one small wish came true.
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| With my sister Neja |
The purpose of our arrival was to teach the kids, in the
school Mobeta, age 3 to 8, together with the local teachers. Even before the
arrival we collected material and ideas, how to bring the kids closer to a
certain school topic and through playing and singing get to know a new subject.
The start of the school lessons was only in the second week after the arrival
because of the Ramadan, which did not end yet. Therefore, we still had time to
prepare, talk about the work and divide ourselves per classes. In that time we
went to Barra and Banjul, we were getting to know the culture, we spent a lot
of time with the locals and from day to day, I felt more and more at home and
accepted.
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| In Barra village |
I could not wait to meet, together with Neja, the little
sister Kumba and on that day I really cried my heart out. With Musa, we were
coming into the area of Dippakunda and when we were approaching the house, all
three of us heard fast-talking of the children and repetition of the same
words. Because they talked in the tribal language Wolof that I did not
understand at that point, I asked Musa what they were saying. He laughed hard, touched
my shoulder and said »they are all saying: sisters are here, they are here,
they are here, sisters are heeree!« and in the moment when we opened the copper
and broken doors of the yard, Kumba's sisters were all of a sudden around us,
sister Mariama and the older Khaddiatou, the mother was hugging us but Kumba
was nowhere to be found. In the moment when she ran into the house, she, all
cried out, jumped on us and never left our sight. It was only the third day and
I already knew that people here are capable of so much love that I do not know
what are we doing in Slovenia and where we lost track.
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| With my sister Kumba |
Every day we went to school at 8.40 so that we were in the
class by 9h. Lara and I were in a class of kids, age 4 to 5, and with us there
was a teacher Marie. I have to say that at times it was very hard most of all
because the kids there are hyperactive and something always has to go on and
they need to be motivated all the time. Concentration drops as quickly as the
rain drops, but if you understand them, if you spend some time with them and you
trust yourself, all of this becomes entirely acceptable. In the morning, we
always repeated the numbers, alphabet, animals and English, after the lunch we
sang, danced, played drums and learned Slovenian through song.
Lara had a flute with her and every time they heard her, they listened
and were so impressed over this instrument that she always had it with her in
her bag. Every time I mention the compassion that Gambian people have, also goes
for the children. Many people who I have told this were not sure, if they
should believe me. Every child received a lunch, but always when someone was
still hungry, the other kid broke a piece and gave it to him. The same happened
when I did not eat, because I was not hungry. A kid came to me with a piece of
bread and offered it to me, because he thought I was hungry and I do not have
any on my own. A child, who does not have enough for food at all times, who
does not have all the conditions for life, offered me his lunch because he saw
I do not have any.
It is easy to write from the memories that happened, but it is
different to talk about them. When I talk to someone about Gambia I do not
remember only the events but I remember the smiles and the feelings and
sometimes tears and it creates a big lump in my throat and just stops there. I remember
the kids who always ran behind our van when we were leaving, until they could
not run anymore; I remember the kids in my class who waited every morning for
us at the entrance doors for the moment when they will see us; I remember how I
learn to cook Domoda and Benachin and also eat that, of course with my hands, which
I was not really good at it; I remember how we drove in those funny vans where
doors did never work and did not close; I remember the rainy days when all stay
at home, because, if it is raining no one goes to school; and I remember how
one girl said to me on my last day that we will see each other on Monday. It
was hard but I told her that I live far far away and that I am leaving for home
today and maybe she will already be older girl next time I see her again. But
for her, far far away meant the neighboring village. She smiled and said, see
you on Monday Mariama and went home smiling. For them far means walking 20
minutes and if I tried to explain to them that I have to fly one whole day with
a plane, I think that would represent such a big problem for them to understand
that I just left it at that.
That is why a whole month had to pass by so I could sit behind
the computer and write this, and even this very shortly. I always ask myself
when will I see them again and when will we dance again, drum, play soccer on
the street and when will I eat mango from the tree again.
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