"The · darkest · thing · about · Africa · has · always · been · our · ignorance · of · it"

Sleeping Baby: This is a new one that Jarrai (host niece) and Aja (host sis), both age 3, started the other day. They tell me I’m their baby and I need to take off my sandals and lie down on the bantabaa (square platform in the compound for sitting or sleeping on). Then they tell me to go to sleep, which I dutifully pretend to do, but apparently I’m not usually very good at pretending, because Aja often decides she’ll lull me to sleep by yelling “i siinoo!” (You go to sleep!) in my ear repeatedly. Then they grab a small square of cloth (big enough to cover a real baby, but not me) and try to tuck me in under it, while Jarrai might shake my shoulder repeatedly. (I’m not sure whether the shaking is supposed to wake me up or rock me to sleep.) When they got tired of that, they once “woke” me up and then told me to bambu (climb on top of their backs to be carried). Surprisingly enough, this didn’t work as well as when they bambu onto my back.

Gopi: It’s tempting to describe this game as “jacks played with rocks,” although really this is probably where jacks (or is it jax?) originated. Lacking bouncy balls and those funky metallic (and much easier to grip!) jacks pieces, the girls just gather around with a bunch of beroodings (small rocks) and toss one rock in the air then try to grab 1-3 other rocks and catch the first rock before it falls. I’m pretty decent at one at a time, but not great if I try to do two or more at a time, though I’m definitely improving. Plus, an errant thrown rock can get pretty painful. But this is how the girls pass the time for hours while they wait at the tap for water.

My Toma’s Juice: I wouldn’t necessarily qualify this as a game, but my toma clearly does, so I’m including it. During Ramadan, the end of the day breaking fast often includes “juice” (basically just a local Kool-Aid style drink mix). The other night, I noticed my toma had been given some juice, but that it was gone and she was feeling pretty distraught. So I decided to give her some of mine. I very carefully poured a small amount into her cup, and watched her sip appreciatively. But as she reached the last sip, she apparently thought she’d had enough, because she proceeded to dump the rest out. Yet once it was gone, she was upset again and looking around for more juice. She must not have realized there was more left when she dumped it, I thought, so I again gave her another small amount. But this time, the “sip, then dump” cycle was even more obviously deliberate, so when she got upset at her lack of juice again, I picked her up and made her sit in my lap before giving her more juice. My thinking was that I could head off the dump so she stopped making a mess. Unfortunately, she was so quick that all I could do was bat the cup away so that the spill ended up on the ground rather than all over me. Despite her giggling, I didn’t refill the cup after that.

Feng Te Karton Kono: Because Gambian culture places much less value on personal possession, Gambians (especially kids) are notorious for coming into Peace Corps Volunteers’ houses and demanding things. I decided to head this off early on when I moved into my village last year. In addition to keeping my house off-limits to people who are not with Peace Corps or part of my host family, I told my host siblings that if they asked me for anything in my house, I would make them leave. (Making them miss out on the fun of things like writing on my chalkboard and coloring with my crayons.) Instead, I kept a box where I put any trash I had that would be fun to play with, having learned that when I gave them real toys, they enjoyed them much less than certain trash items which they already had games for. Things like empty bottles, toilet paper rolls, bubble wrap, and empty boxes were a much bigger hit than any of the real toys I gave them. So whenever I have a piece of “fun” trash, I put it in the box. Originally, they would ask me “fen te karton kono?” (Is there nothing in the box?) and if things were in there, I’d just let them raid the box. But I discovered quickly that this caused mass chaos in which the bigger kids got everything and the younger ones were left empty handed. So the new practice is that, at some point each day, they’ll ask me “fen te karton kono?” If I have gathered enough pieces of trash for everyone to get one, I say yes and they all come and take one item. (They have learned to let the younger kids pick first.) If the box is empty or just has a few items, I tell them “no, not today” and they’ll ask again the next day. So now they do get stuff from me on a regular basis, and almost never (I can think of maybe five times in the last year) ask me for something that’s not in the “karton.” (They are immediately booted from my house if they do, which is why this almost never happens.)

Fen Be I Nyaa Kono: Despite the fact that I’ve worn glasses since entering Peace Corps, my host siblings have only just recently discovered that things are reflected in those glasses. So now they find it thrilling to try to catch a glimpse of the fire, objects in the periphery, or themselves in my glasses. I know the game has started because I’ll hear what fen (thing) is “in” my eyes. Jula, kiimaa be i nyaa kono! (Jula, the fire is in your eyes!) Aja (age 3) is particularly fascinated by this, and if she’s not satisfied with what she’s seeing, she’s not shy about grabbing my head and trying to position it so she can see various things in the compound.