Latrikunda

As April began I finally moved into my house. It is a relief to be self-sufficient again – I was quite dependent on others (and I express my thanks to many friends who helped me) for a few weeks following my accident, particularly in the early days when I found it difficult to walk. I am living in Latrikunda Sabiji in the southern Kombos, on the road from Serrekunda to Brikama. Latrikunda is an intensely busy district with a large market, workshops, tailors and food outlets. Trucks and bush-taxis pour along our one tar road, and residential compounds are tightly packed along sandy side streets.

In The Gambia it is typical for the extended family to live together in a compound containing a number of separate or connected houses or rooms. Large compounds upcountry might house fifty or more individuals (a man, two or three wives, their children plus spouses, and possibly grandchildren too). My compound is slightly unusual because the family here is quite small (only about eight; I am not sure of the exact number, and it seems to vary) and there are a number of non-family tenants here too. They have been very welcoming to me, cheerfully chatting in Wolof and English, and generous with their time and advice. And this family have also given me a Gambian name, Saihou Ceesay, since Justin is not recognisably a name to people here and it has proved easier to introduce myself under an African pseudonym. I am honoured with this name, as I have been called after the late father of this compound.

My house is a concrete-built (houses are often mud-block) two-bedroom bungalow. I have a generously sized sitting room with comfortable chairs and a dining room table. The tiny kitchen has a two-ring burner connected to bottled gas, and a fridge that works when the electricity supply is switched on. I have running water here so I have a cold shower (though there are times this works poorly or not at all when the water pressure is insufficient) and a flushing toilet. The floor is tiled and the roof is made of corrugated steel sheets, which will be noisy in the rainy season.

The compound itself is a leafy haven amidst the commotion outside. The central yard is paved rather than the usual sand, and a number of mango trees provide welcome shade. One side of my house looks out towards these trees, and the other side towards the well in the corner of the yard. Step out through the metal gate at the front of the compound and you will be on our sandy road (which until recently was very wet due to a burst pipe, a forewarning of conditions to expect during the rains). Turn right towards the main road, the market and bush-taxis to Banjul. Or turn left towards the bread shop and the Nigerian restaurant where I can eat a good meal of rice and chicken for just 25 Dalasi (50p).

At the market I can buy fresh salad, vegetables, eggs, fish and meat (disturbingly covered with flies), rice and pulses (dispensed from a sack using a small tin), palm oil, peanuts and peanut paste. It is easy to find fruit; it is currently the season for banana and mango. A small selection of imported convenience food is also available, such as tea, sugar, biscuits, tinned sardines, and pasta. There are also traders selling clothes and shoes, and others with stalls of household items. It is standard practice to hear a ridiculous price at first, and haggle down.

Adjacent to my compound are a tailor (it is quick and cheap to have clothes made) and an internet outlet (but their connection is slow at best, so I tend to go further afield).

Two further things I have enjoyed purchasing are baobab and wonjo. At the market I can buy the dried fruit of the baobab tree, or the red dried wonjo flowers of the sorrell plant. These can be soaked in water, and with sugar added they both make refreshing cold drinks. The other popular drink here is a form of Chinese green tea known locally as attaya. Groups of (usually) men brew up the tea in a small enamel teapot over a charcoal burner, adding lots of sugar and occasionally some mint or vanilla. The brew is poured repeatedly from the pot (which possibly caramelises the sugar, or may be it is just for show), and drunk from small glass tumblers.

Below: Wonjo and Attaya.

Latrikunda is a good distance from the tourist resorts so it is rare to see toubabs (white people) here. Therefore I am already recognised by many people in the local area, and they greet me in Wolof, Mandinka or Fula, and every journey I walk is interrupted by someone who wants to chat. Slowly I am learning the names of the people I see, and little by little (ndanka ndanka) I am finding my place in this lively community. It will be good to live here for a little while; I intend to make the most of the opportunities that arise.

Below: Some views of my house and street.