So Patrick has emerged from a dark forest. I’m a little surprised he made it, not because he lacked the grit but because The Gambia is a sketchy place to live even for the affluent, and Patrick is not that. I’m curious what his life will be like next year, assuming all goes to plan. I have no idea what a teaching position in The Gambia pays, or what Patrick will be able to do with that income. He’s a man of humble needs of course: He and his siblings have lived virtually their entire lives in just a couple rooms, without running water or electricity—except for his first year of college—eating out of a communal bowl, cooking over a fire, subsisting on really foods like rice and bread (for which he always expresses great love), sleeping on thin foam mats, and constantly fighting illness or injury, floods, heat, and all-too frequent deaths. A salary—any salary—ought to be a life-changing matter.
It honestly didn’t take all that much. As I have pointed out more than once, Patrick’s entire monthly household budget is considerably less than my monthly phone bill. It still would have been difficult without the help of y’all, dear readers, as well as the others who responded to my initial story in RCB. On behalf of Patrick, I offer my deepest gratitude.
It’s a funny time now, though. There will be a graduation ceremony but Patrick has not yet been told when. The government gave him a bunch of weird bullshit about how his degree would be backdated to account for the pandemic, so as though he graduated a year earlier than he did. I have no idea why this is necessary; hopefully it’s a good thing. It will be a couple months before he receives the documentation he needs to work. So what’s he doing?
Well, relaxing mostly. Still reading The Hobbit, taking care of his siblings, and we’ll see what else. I hope he has an opportunity to go hunting. I hope the study-abroad thing pans out. Maybe we’ll revive our plan to sell African art from the Brikama craft market on Etsy. Who knows. It’s a weird sort of holding pattern to be in—typically Gambian.
Anyway, a couple weeks ago Patrick traveled to Banjul to get his passport, in the unlikely event he’ll be traveling to Estonia. He took a ton of photographs, and I hereby offer you the best of the capital:
It’s no mistake to say that Banjul is as poor and run-down as anyplace else in The Gambia, but to me the fact that there’s a storm drain grate in this photograph is as much an indication of relative wealth as anything.
Honestly I’ve seen worse in South Carolina.
The golden hour here is as good as anywhere.
The blue and white building is one of the most modern in the country. It’s well known.
Also well known is this Portuguese church, probably the oldest building in the country.
I hope to visit one day. It’s a fascinating little place. Funny to think just a couple years ago I wouldn’t have been able to find it on a map.