My first two months in country were spent in a Mandinka village. The compound my host family lived in was small in comparison to others, some trainees had up to 18 people living in their compound. Mine had only 6 permanently living there, all women and girls. Kata, my host mother, husband had passed away several years ago. Her four sons were living elsewhere, although one did come home occasionally because he was in the army, stationed at the border with Senegal . Her other sons lived in Europe, and would send money home to help support the family. My host sister’s names were (big) Aja, (little) Aja, Adama, Saajoo and her five-year-old daughter Kati. There are often two family members with the same name. I have the same name as one of my host sisters, Saajoo, and she was the person who helped me get dressed for my naming ceremony. I admit it took me awhile to understand everyone’s relationship, and why family members had the same name.

My living quarters were very basic, there was no “upgrade” for senior citizens. I had two rooms and a private back yard with my pit latrine, where I would bathe and hang out my laundry.

The village had a mosque, bakery, one elementary school, and several tailors. Attached to some family compounds were small stores, selling a limited selection of basic supplies. Village women would set out a display of their garden produce on the main village road, and chat with their friends throughout the day. Men, on bicycles from other villages, would go around to the compounds selling bread, eggs, household items, and fabric.

It is an agriculture village that grows rice, peanuts and vegetables. The many donkeys, goats, sheep, chickens, ducks, just wandered around, eating everything that isn’t fenced. Donkeys are the primary workforce, used in the fields to plow, and transport the harvests on carts. A few people in my village had cars or motorcycles, but most of the residents walked, rode their bicycle, took a taxi, or used the donkey cart.