WAIST

stayed at site for almost three weeks. that's enough. helped thatch houses, village-planned with soulman, got a hanger and hammock. I'm feeling out a permanent wedge between me and the locals. we just think differently, you know, for the most part. sure we all want to be happy and contented, but their vehicle for this is completely foreign to me, and I'm not willing to budge from my way of doing things. sure, changing who I am or how I perceive things might make a better peace corps experience, but I'm not in this for some abstract and foreign connection. I came to work so I'll do it and get out. like usual I guess. gotta find something I actually love.

it's come to a head, the incessant propositions and confrontations. I'm pretty tolerant and I'm not gonna hold any judgments, but goddamn let me be for a second. or just quit disguising friendship and love for a buck or fuck. I know it's tough here but I thought we were all the same. pride and independence are unfortunately but frequently substituted with obligation and partiality. but americans are assholes right? I don't know, I can dig just about anything except an obvious phony. but they're everywhere. after a while you just laugh and work every little way to get as much out of them as possible. returning the favor I suppose.

so good thing I'm on vacation. went to WAIST after three weeks of fighting with my host family and venting to my homologue. he's a real chill dude with a great family, well-behaved kids and kind wives. he understands our differences and doesn't mind maintaining them. he took me to my market town and we had lunch before I left. some bomb tiga degenna and egg sandwiches at the place I always stop when in kokofata. I surprised soulman with how much I ate; I might finally fill out in africa. the diarra muso serving us knew what was up, she just sat there smiling and waiting for the next thing I wanted. anyways the way out of malinke country was on a bashe full of huge 50 kg sacks of peanuts. there was just enough room between all the sacks and the bus's roof for me to lay between a couple of fula kids and a teenage girl with a baby. the girl spoke without shyness.

WAIST is this thing where a bunch of white people living in west africa get together for drinking and softball. unless your team is the missionary, they weren't about our slapass and antics at all. we had so much fun though, swimming and laying out and getting fucked up before lunch. every night something was planned and dakar had seafood and good streets for walking. after a while you just start fucking with all the vendors and beggars. it can be entertaining, the beat for a buck. whatever.

after surfing for just an evening and spending valentines night on the titanic we rolled out of dakar for the real thing in the gambia. the gambia is a nugget of english speaking, spice packing, whore dishing heaven with stretchy sand beaches and green grass everywhere. after only a day I've seen it's a place to live to visit to get fucked up and to get your groove on. some old dude who said he was the elder running the street with all the clubs on it tried pickpocketing me by play wrestling. he was strong and just about muscled his way through it, but I caught his hand in my pocket and got a little scary. the gambia was a sweet stay, their stage house is hooked up with dozens of beds, hot water, flat screen, wireless, ping pong, hammocks, and a big ass kitchen with everything you need to make dinner. plus there's legit supermarkets right down the street. they had safeway for god's sake.

from their we dragged ourselves to an island sandwiched between the niger river and atlantic ocean. this consisted of cabbing from the capital banjul to the ferry, which crawled to the port of barra, where we then jeeped through the bush to canoes that finished the trip. we found a cheap place to stay and just ate munchies we'd brought. deserted beaches lost bars and neighborhood farming made another world. and all the way across this world we happened upon a bunch of malians, coming to the island for work. they miss their families but enjoy beach life and no hassles. they were very welcoming and generous. much love, enjoyed the stay.

finally made it back to mali. in kayes city, which is in my region but way on the other side close to the senegalese border. I've been showering in the ocean and wearing the same pants and shirt since dakar. my foot's all fucking infected and I think I'm reaching the limit. but goddamn it was fun, wish I could share more.