A Day in the Life

 

We are woken at 6:40am every morning, not because Zack’s alarm goes off but because our cat is sitting under our bedroom window crying for food. Since we’ve adopted him he has transformed from a skinny outdoor cat living on small bony smoked fish to a chubby fluff ball that needs constant attention and tinned tuna. As Zack gets ready for work I usually sleep or read my book, preferring to read Jane Austen repetitively rather than start my essays on community planning.  Zack leaves around 7:45 – despite having the same routine every work day, he is always running late – I put on the kettle and turn on the computer, wondering how long I can procrastinate before starting my work (in truth this can sometimes be hours). The time difference to Australia is pretty good so many mornings I Skype my parents or friends who are usually having dinner before I’ve even had breakfast. Around 9ish I often wander over to the crazy lady in the tiny shop across the street, she's actually very friendly but did not want to smile for the photo. Every time I go over to buy tapalapa (baguette type bread that is sometimes so fresh it is still warm) we have the same conversation that generally consists of smiling, laughing, nodding and mumbling – I speak no Fula and she no English but we generally get the gist since my purchase never changes. After my usual yogurt, fruit and vegemite tapalapa I retreat back to my study where I stare blankly at my computer for a while before managing to get some work done. My work and study schedules are pretty flexible so every day seems the same but different – simular tasks in varying orders. 

 I also have a project with WWF (as previously mentioned) so during the week I periodically wander in and out of the office, sometimes just staying for a couple of hours to chat with someone other than Slobs and eat the lunch. Every day at the office a big silver bowl arrives around 1-2pm. Inside is always a mound of rice topped with various Gambian sauces, mostly comprising of palm oil and msg flavouring, sometimes good sometimes not so good. My favourite is domoda, the peanut butter based sauce. We all sit around the same bowl and eat, I only catch bits a pieces of conversation which is generally in Wolof and often the food gives me a stomach ache but I enjoy these lunches and I think I entertain the others by asking stupid questions such as “what exactly are we eating?”. 

 

Zack and I are not organised enough to do a weeks (or even 2 days) worth of food shopping at once so nearly every day I visit the vege stands and supermarkets. Food shopping generally takes a while, especially if I need something particular, every supermarket is only slightly larger than a 7/11 and a product seen one week may never appear again. So the combination of having to visit many shops, chatting with the vege sellers and making sure to always have enough cash, makes food shopping a much longer, drawn out, partly entertaining, partly tiresome but always interactive activity than simply going to wholefoods!   

On days when I meet Zack at the embassy we sometimes go to our favourite local bar. Bakau Guesthouse is not really a bar it’s more of a deteriorating restaurant and hotel that is perched precariously on a small cliff overlooking the Bakau fish market. Arriving soon after 6pm, our timing is usually perfect to sit on the balcony with a Jewlbrew and watch the fisherman come back with their daily catch. The market at this time is a crazy mash of noise, colour, smell and more noise. As the small wooden boats come in, kids run into the waves to collect the fish for selling, or sometimes stealing! Women sell and cook fish to locals, expats, restaurant owners and tourists. Sometimes if we’re feeling brave enough we venture up the tower, a long dark winding staircase that takes us past floors of half open hotel rooms, decrepit hall ways and squatters quarters to the open roof where we can see to the horizon in all directions and watch as the sun sinks into the haze. 

Other days Zack gets home around 7ish, usually in time to walk down to beach, carefully ignoring the bumsters, before making dinner, watching TV and going to bed. The next morning Slobs dutifully wakes us up with his pitiful meows and we start all over again!