Saturday, July 16, 2005
It's one thirty am on the day that I'll be leaving Gambia for good and the federal government is hooking me up with some free internet time at a twenty-four hour peace corps internet cell that feels a bit too much like college. I've spent two consecutive years in this country which is the longest stretch I've had anywhere since 1999 and it's time to go. Logistics have been dominating my mind for two weeks
Tuuli, Sean and I have been working on our team dynamic; we've figured out how best to irritate one another and when each of us will resort to violence. We've trashed my house twice, Sean poured gasoline on my face and we have become familiar with our limitations as dancers. So, we are pretty much ready to go.
After a Canadian paramedic who was granted "all of the rights, priveleges and immunities" of a police officer helps us to smuggle our illegal right hand drive car out of the country, we will be in the southern arm of Senegal, which is called Casamance. It is probably the dodgiest patch of Africa that we will hit before Togo and we are hoping to burn through as much of it as possible during the daylight hours. The map of land mine detonations at the Concern Universal office provides a fairly colorful connect the dots idea of our route and I have been preparing French phrases of rebel solidarity with which to charm any armed men who decide we are driving too fast. Independence pour Casamance! Les autre Senegalaise sont canards!
—since work ended—and it'll be truly refreshing to wash my hands of my possessions and concerns here.Tuuli, Sean and I have been working on our team dynamic; we've figured out how best to irritate one another and when each of us will resort to violence. We've trashed my house twice, Sean poured gasoline on my face and we have become familiar with our limitations as dancers. So, we are pretty much ready to go.
After a Canadian paramedic who was granted "all of the rights, priveleges and immunities" of a police officer helps us to smuggle our illegal right hand drive car out of the country, we will be in the southern arm of Senegal, which is called Casamance. It is probably the dodgiest patch of Africa that we will hit before Togo and we are hoping to burn through as much of it as possible during the daylight hours. The map of land mine detonations at the Concern Universal office provides a fairly colorful connect the dots idea of our route and I have been preparing French phrases of rebel solidarity with which to charm any armed men who decide we are driving too fast. Independence pour Casamance! Les autre Senegalaise sont canards!
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