World AIDS Day with youth: Never let anyone tell you that you can’t

I marked World AIDS Day on December 1 by giving 2 presentations to the student bodies at Prince Andrew High School (where I work) and Dartmouth High School, with the NSGA’s Muhammed Ngallan.  Muhammed and I met in The Gambia 4 summers ago when we worked on the NSGA Peer Health Education project together.  It was pretty special for us to be in front of youth again. To share the stage together, this time in Canada with Canadian youth.

We had an amazing day and the youth were amazing.  We showed them my Love4Gambia Radio Documentary, which you’ll find at the end of this post.  Then we each spoke to them.

I had a few rough notes in front of me to keep myself on track, mostly to ensure that I didn’t get carried away and eat up all of Muhammed’s speaking time.  Before hand, I pulled what I wanted to say from my blogs and put it together so that I could share it with you here.  So here it is.

When Muhammed and I finished speaking, many youth wanted to talk to us individually.  Two youth stood out for me.

The first was a shy girl.  She spoke so quietly that I could barely hear her.

“Thank you for talking about how a woman can achieve anything,” she said. “I want to do a career than usually men only do. I want to be a paratrooper. People tell me that I can’t because I’m a girl.  So thanks for saying that I can do it.”

The second girl was not at all shy. She demanded.

“Who is the father of your baby?”

I laughed.

Word AIDS Day Love4Gambia Speech

December 1, 2011

Since I’ve returned home from The Gambia, I’ve spoken to a lot of people about my run and my team. Most people ask, “How did you actually do that?  How did you actually run all the way across a country?”

I don’t really have an answer other than I trained really hard.  I was really, really determined.  And I really, truly believed that I could do it.  That’s what I want to talk to you about today.  We’re lucky to have Muhammed with us; he’s going to talk about The Gambia and HIV in The Gambia for us while I talk about the run. For most of this, you don’t have to be runner to understand it.

A friend listened to this radio documentary on the day that it played on CBC radio and then said to me, “oh, it made your run sound so easy.”

Maybe this is the case, I don’t know. I can only look at the run and listen to this documentary having been the girl who actually ran it and I’ll tell you, it was far from easy.  But this was just a 25-minute snapshot, it’s not the whole story.

This summer, there were never any moments where I thought that I would give up but it was far from easy.  I always knew, or I guess believed, that I would make it but there moments were it was hard.

• I ran 424 km
• I was running 25km/day: more than a half marathon
• In units of time, I was running 2.5 hours a day but 25 km took longer than 2.5 hours.  We rested 90 minutes at the 20km mark.  I stopped every 20 minutes to drink more water at our truck.  So in total, our running day was  8am to 1:30pm.
• Our motto was Eat, Sleep, Run

The heat:

This is the first think that I want to touch on that I had to deal with; that made it so that the run was not easy.  It was HOT. It was 38 degrees every single day and 42 degrees on many. The heat never impacted my running performance because I chose not to let it.

Sometimes after I explain this, people will say, “oh, so the heat wasn’t that bad.” I explain that that wasn’t it at all. It was very hot; 42 degrees is very hot.  It’s 107.6 degrees Fahrenheit. It was so hot that 2 pairs of my sneakers melted.

I couldn’t do anything about the heat. I had a 25km goal each day, regardless of the air temperature. I had no control over the heat. But I did have control over how I responded to and dealt with the heat. I coped with the heat by not even considering the heat.  I never, ever considered that the heat might cause me to stop running because there was so way I was going to stop running. Stopping was never in the realm of options.

Managing 42 degree heat was all about being strong.  The human body will allow you to be strong enough if you will it to be strong enough.

The people who would say to me, “I could  never run in that heat,” they are wrong. They could. The human body can do it.  I think that they’ve just never put themselves in a situation where they are determined to reach their goal, no matter what.

Besides the heat, I had to get through a lot of other challenges including the South Bank Road, my legs and setbacks. 

Setbacks happen in running as in life. You need to be prepared for them.  For me, for my team, the remarkable days were the ones that were unremarkable.

Here are the setbacks I face: I didn’t always want to run

• Day 5: guts turned on me during the raining, spam saved the day.
• Day 6: km markers appeared.  I had run 150km already=  awesome! But 280km to go, not so awesome
• Day 7: my setback was emotional, not physical. Emotions were stronger. Happy was happier. Sad was sadder.
• Day 9: poisoned myself with water and ran 25km anyway
• Day 15: no food.  Skin bleeding and no Brikama at 26km
• Day 16: traffic tried to end our life by swallowing us up, see here

(read more about what I talked about in detail in this blog titled “How to be Strong”)

Being a Woman

Being a woman has been a dominant theme of my running days.  I anticipated this but not to the extent that it played out.  I expected that my running expedition would exhibit female athletic ability and facilitate breaking down gender barriers in endurance sport participation for women.  I knew that this was a male dominated society. Women in The Gambia are not political leaders.  They are not athletes.  To many men and women, I was an oddity.

When we meet people, Pa Modou and Kebba would proudly introduce me as the runner who is running from Koina to Banjul.  The person would look at me a say, “Her?!”  They were never able to hide their disbelief.  In fact, I’m pretty sure they didn’t even try.  Most often, they would follow this up with, “Well, how can a woman do that?”  Or “I can’t believe a woman can do that.”

Pa Modou and Kebba would reply, “Yes, she can, she is very strong.”  I told these people that I’d see them in Banjul.  I knew that they wouldn’t believe it until I actually did it.

In the end, reaching the shores of the Atlantic, 424km from Koina, wasn’t even enough.  On day 16, Spider’s coworkers came to watch us run.  We ran passed these guys and waved at them.  When Spider returned to work, these men interrogated him.

“Is she really a woman?”

”How do you know?  Have you seen her woman parts?”

Even after seeing me their with own eyes, they doubted that I was actually a woman because of my athletic ability. For these Gambian men, it was easier to believe that I was actually a man.

I met one of Pa Modou’s football teammates after the run ended.

“I’ve been waiting to see you,” he said, “Can I see your legs?”

I’m not sure what he expected but he seemed a disappointed with my sinewy calves.

Ashley and I were on the news on the eve that our plane arrived in The Gambia, before we traveled to Koina to begin the run.  The news is very important and if a Gambian owns or can access a television, they tune in.  A number of people would approach Ashley and I on the street.  They would look at Ashley and say:

“I saw you and that man on tv.”

‘That man’ would be me.  I do not look like a man.  But it was so hard for Gambians to believe that a woman could run all the way across the country.  It was easier to just believe that I was a man.

Meeting your goals and dreams:

A lot of people thought that I was crazy and didn’t think that I would make it to the Atlantic Ocean. In fact, when I got home in August, people would say to me, “I didn’t think that you make it.”  I would want to reply, “Thank you, I also don’t think that you are going to achieve your life goals.”  But I wouldn’t.

The thing was, it didn’t matter what they thought or what they believed. I made it to the ocean only because I believed that I could do it.  My belief was the only one that mattered.

And it put in the hard work to make my goal, my dream happen.  I didn’t make it 424km across a hot African country by sitting on the couch.  I made it by training and running 6 days a week for 7months.  Hard work, preparation and belief in yourself are how you make dreams happen.

That’s my message for you, my high school students. You are the beginning of your lives. If you have a dream: be it to go to university or NSCC, to become an artist, to become a mechanic and own your own garage, become a famous mathematician, become a better athlete, run across an African Nation… You put in the hard work to prepare. You don’t just sit on the couch hoping or waiting for it to happen- you put in the hard work.  You believe really hard that you can do it and you don’t listen to anyone who says you can’t.  The only person who can tell you that you can’t is yourself.  So you go out there and you make it happen just like I did and don’t EVER let anyone tell you that you can’t.

Guest Blog: “Becoming a Gambian”

I’m thrilled to bring you a guest blog post by Allison Reeves this week.  Allison is a PhD student in health communication and was one of four NSGA interns that worked in The Gambia on our Gender Equity and Youth Leadership through Health and Human Rights Education project in July and August of this year.  She was stationed in Bansang, a community that Kebba and I ran through on Day 5 of our Love4Gambia run.

The following is a letter to home that she wrote from The Gambia.  It’s a beautiful read that captures the essence of what it is to work and live in The Gambia.

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August, 2011

Hi everyone!!!

Sorry it’s taken me so long to write but I have very limited access to the Internet and phone and I’ve been very busy becoming a Gambian. It’s been soooo nice to be unplugged from everything and so I’ve been avoiding technology.

It will be virtually impossible to describe my last 24 days here—it feels like I’ve lived a lifetime in such a short time span, and in the mean time my reality has been turned on its head.  Coming back to “real life” in Toronto will definitely be a shock and I’m a bit
anxious about it.

I’ve been so happy here in Bansang, a small-ish community deep in The Gambia. Our hotel is right on the Gambian river and I swim regularly in it, despite its often sketchy brown-ish look. Our hotel is run by a family and is adjacent to the extended family compound. Many families here are polygamous but ours isn’t; the hotel is owned by a husband and lone wife (Ibrahima & Bintou), and in the compound lives an uncle and aunt (Mamoud & Sainey) and their five children (Ibrahima, Mbinkindy, Pabi, Backaray & Dodo), a few stray cousins (Lamin, Lamin, Seikou & Sana) and a grandmother (Dodo).

The couple who runs the hotel spent 35 years living in Paris (another interesting story for another day) and the husband has been visiting their grown children and grandchildren in Paris for most of my stay here. I’ve become very close with his wife, Bintou, in his absence, and have been speaking French every day with her. The family speaks Mandinka, the tribal language of Bansang and area, and I’ve been picking up bits and pieces here and there. The children in our compound study English in school so they love practicing English with me.

I thank the Creator/God/Allah/Universe for my French every day as it has resulted in me becoming quite close with Bintou and she has able to act as a cultural translator for me, which has made my experience so much more rich than other volunteers who only speak English. Since I started traveling abroad during high school, I have used my French in virtually every single place I have traveled (including Peru, Europe, India and twice in Africa).  I’m so grateful my parents insisted on us being in the French immersion programme.

Here are some examples of my Mandinka:

Sumo lei? Ibi-jay! (How are you? I’m fine.)

Courtonatay? Tana tay! (Family is good? Yes; they’re fine.)

Etodung? Alli-Sana Fatty (my Gambian name—Ali is funny to them since it’s a man’s name here; Sana is the name of one of my “sisters” in the compound who insisted I take her name—ironically it is the same name given to me by a friend I met in Morocco—and Fatty is the family surname, which is how everyone is acknowledged in the community.)

Taking a taxi with the family

It’s been such a pleasure living with the family- every day after work I’m greeted by a soccer team’s worth of kids at the house, who all want to jump on me, shake hands, play, teach me Mandinka words and practice English. I’ve also joined in family eating out of a communal bowl, I’ve pounded millet, learned to clean fish, washed my laundry by hand in the river, taken my turn carrying their infant girl Dodo on my back, and other practices of daily living.

Everything is family-centered and the concept of being alone is virtually non-existent. I’ve taken to sleeping outside under a bug net because the bedroom is too hot and although we have fans, the power in the city shuts down around 2am. After the first few nights waking up soaking in sweat I decided I needed a new plan. Over time my outside mattress has become a new hang out place for the kids and myself and I’ll often have one or more of them sleeping in my bed in a given night.

Most families here are Muslim and I’ve seen such a beautiful representation of this faith among the people here. They are so peaceful, loving and kind and they love their faith and are very gentle in their practice of it. I’ve also joined in prayers once and found it relaxing and enjoyable. It’s reminded me I have to get back to my meditation practice. It’s currently Ramadan and everyone is fasting but they don’t mind if the “Toubabs” (white folks) eat before sunset.

Allison and a Peer Health Educator

Work is also going well. I’m teaching sexual health to youth aged 13-18 (ish) in a summer school programme through the Nova Scotia Gambia Association (NSGA), an NGO funded by CIDA (Cdn International Developmental Agency). Each school in the Gambia has a team of “peer health educators”, of which 5 from each school in this area (25 schools) were selected. There are 5 classes of students who rotate through my room, which is an open-concept classroom with bars over windows rather than panes, no lights and definitely no air
conditioning!

Topics include reproductive anatomy & function, fertilization & reproduction, STIs, HIV/AIDS, UTIs, infertility, abortion, menstruation, gender, equality, decision making, healthy relationships, female circumcision and others. The female circumcision and polygamy topics have been a bit daunting and I’ve asked a Gambian instructor to join the class for these discussions since I’m so painfully biased…and it has necessitated me leaving the class to use the “washroom” on occasion where I will lay on a sole couch in the staff room with a book over my face and tune out the horrifying stories of female circumcision related by the Gambian instructor to the students. Generally all are aware of the negative health outcomes associated but the deeply held tradition acts as a serious barrier to change. But the practice is slowly getting fazed out, quicker among some tribes than among others.

Overall, teaching is fun and I’m greeted in the morning with lots of “Good Morning, Miss Alli!!!”’s, hand shakes, hand slaps and various other tricks we’ve created over the weeks. The students are, for the most part, eager to learn and are literally a million times better behaved than Canadian students. When they do speak out of turn I’ll give them a stern look followed by a wink & smile and that seems to do the trick. They have some difficulty with my Canadian English and so writing things on the board tends to help. Also I can always hook a Gambian teacher or one of the senior students and bring them into the class to translate into “Gambian English” if required.

I’ve learned so much about teaching, learning and cross-cultural relations—I can’t even go into it all here, as it would be like a thesis onto itself. Every Friday we have “open day” at the school where students come together in the assembly hall and we have games, fun quizzes, singing, dancing, drama and debating. They get soooo engaged in this day and everyone loves to participate. They absolutely love when a Toubab becomes “Gambian”, in speech, behaviour, etc., so I’ve had some fun on open day getting on stage and playing around with them a bit. When I started dancing the Gambian dances I’ve learned at home their jaws dropped and then they went absolutely nuts over it. It was so funny! There’s one other Canadian here too but it’s typically me who is the one making an ass of myself.

At our school site, we work only with male teachers and male NSGA staff. It has been so remarkable to work with these amazing men, who are fighting against gender inequalities, female circumcision and violence against women. Yet another reminder that one need not have group membership to care about injustices facing that group, a topic I’ve discussed at length in my PhD dissertation.

This week, my Gambian co-teacher, Mamadi, has shared personal stories with the students about his marriage: that he had a love marriage (rather than arranged), that he adores his wife, that they never fight, that he helps her cook and clean and that he sings and dances for her to make her happy. It is so touching to see smiles curling up the students faces and giggles among the girls upon hearing this disclosure of love (a very rare thing!). Many of these relational behaviours between husbands and wives are alien in this culture, yet another reason why the work of this organization is so important.

Allison and her sibings: Mbinkindey, Sana & Backaray

Despite my bias against some of these types of cultural phenomenon, the are many very special features in Gambian culture as well. For instance, it is known as the “Smiling Coast of Africa”, a statement that is absolutely true. I have never met such friendly, happy people in my life. Everyone on the street wants to say hello, ask our names, welcome us to the country, offer us food and drinks, etc. All the children follow us yelling, Toubab! Toubab! And when they catch up to us they sort of just stand there and stare with a sheepish smile on their faces. The most courageous of the bunch extends a tiny hand and then giggles with glee after we shake it. Our students also want to touch our Toubab skin, play with our Toubab hair and our Toubab clothes.

Aside from friendliness, there are other incredible aspects of Gambian culture. For instance, they also say it is better to be poor in the Gambia than in the West, due to the phenomenon of “social immunity”, as described by one of my co-workers. He says that even a poor man is guaranteed three meals a day because people here can literally knock on any door in town and be welcomed in for a meal. There is no such thing as refusing a request for food or shelter. The community cares for itself and few are left on the margins (I’ve only seen one person in the community who appears to be in abject poverty, and this was likely due to his having mental health issues—he wore a big winter coat and hat in the dead of the heat and wandered around mumbling to himself). Another example is that children of extended family members can be raised by any family member who is able to support them. For instance, access to education might be improved by moving in with an aunt, as is the case in our compound. I mentioned that there are a few cousins living in our compound who visit their birth parents on holidays or  weekends but ultimately enjoy a more positive life living and working at the hotel for the summer and attending school in Bansang during the school year.

With respect to my way of life here, it has also been such a blessing to be living closer to the earth, using my hands to make things (rather than solely for typing), living within a cycle wherein virtually no waste is created, playing outside and making our own fun, away from AC, TV, video games and the Internet, as well as learning local songs, games and customs.

I’ve also enjoyed discussing important issues that affect Gambians with my co-workers, who are deep in the fight against HIV/AIDS, gender discrimination (including mainstream domestic violence), forced child marriage among girls (12 yrs-15 yrs) and other issues. There is an amazing shift in the country as we speak and I’m in an incredible position to bear witness to this change. Among the students we teach I can already see many bright lights appearing as strong, intelligent, mature and sensitive girls and boys who will grow through programmes like this summer school and bring about a new Gambia.

Looking forward to sharing more when I return.

Love, Alli-baba

You can learn more about the Nova Scotia-Gambia Association and the project that Allison worked on here

Together We Can Do It!

Kebba said that to me on Run Day 3.  Ashley yelled “You can do it” out the truck window and Kebba, running next to me, said “Yes, together, we can do it.”

July 10, Day 4 of running.  100km run !!!

Baobablong Camp, Janjanbureh, 9pm

What a day. A very happy one.  We began at 7am.  Today was moving day as we were travelling ahead after the run to make Janjanbureh our new home base.

We had a special beginning to our day in Bakadajie as we began our run at 8am at Bakadajie Upper Basic School with the Peer Health Educator team. We started the run together with the very youth that we are running and raising money for.   When we got to the school, students and teachers were still arriving and I was really slow to get out of the truck.  I was feeling tired.  I had slept through my alarm and Ashley woke me up 20 minutes later than I had planned to get up.  So I looked at the teens under the tree and pulled myself out and went over to chat with them. They were telling Kebba in Mandinka that they couldn’t run and he was saying “yes you can!  Look at her and how far she has run.”  While he did this, some of the girls were making lovey eyes at Pa Modou, who they knew from their Peer Health Educator training.

Then it was time to run.  Our group of about 25 went out onto the road and began running together.  It was incredible.  Kebab led the students in singing, “1, 2, 3 Love4Gambia.”  And then “Thank you Erin, Thank you Ashley” and then “We love you, Erin.”  How can a girl’s spirits be low when surrounded by this.  I could have floated.

I was worrying yesterday (rest day) about how my legs would feel at the start of today’s run.  With the Peer Health Team with me, I forgot to even think about my legs.  You can’t feel pain when you aren’t thinking about pain.  It was the best start of the day.  The youth ran about 200m with us and then Ashley and I continued on.  Ashley set a new PB today of8.25km in 2 runs, go Ashley!

Today was a nice mix of farm, forest and village with just the right amount of each.  Love love love the villages were I get to greet people- women farming, men under trees, kids who can spot a toubab from a km away, people at the shop stalls.  Today 3 men were leaning against a lorrie (big truck) and one of them said “That is very unusual” as I ran by.

I had my coach Cliff’s voice in my head today at several points and he was telling me “run smooth, nice and relaxed, let the wheels turn.”  I was trying to run as relaxed as possible to keep my aching shoulders down.  They felt better today so mission accomplished.  I was actually running a bit too fast today and kept trying really hard to slow down.  Fresh from rest.  I’ve decided that I need to run slower than 6min/km to survive, this is a 4 day running stretch, I kept catching myself at 5:48-ish/km.

We had a perfect rest under a tree.  Pa and Kebba built me a bed of leaves against the tree, I’m so Paris Hilton.  I led Kebba through some yoga poses because sun salutations and the plank position were relieving the ache in my shoulders.  Confession, I learned this yesterday during a push-up contest!  Kebba quite enjoyed the yoga and he and Pa enjoyed the word “Namaste” even more.  Then it was “Namaste” everything…

Our last 5km was around lunchtime meaning kids at school were on lunch break.  Kebba and Ashley began the last 5km with me and Kebba completed it with me.  Today I ran about 11km solo, that’s it!  So we are running through the village and elementary school kids are playing in the school yard and they come chasing after us.  I ask them if they want to run and they say “YES!” so the kids at the school join us.  All the kids!  About 50 of them!  I would turn around and see the most amazing train of tiny Gambian kids in blue uniforms running along.  Kebba led them in singing.  Their sweet “We love you Erin” in unison brought tears to my eyes.

We told the kids to stop at the outskirt of the village and when we turned around, they had surround Pa in the truck and I could still hear them chanting “Erin, Erin!”  I knew this run would be touching, emotional, moving etc… but in last weeks, when I was so focused on how I would feel physically, I had no idea it would feel this sweet.

During our last 5km, we were running along and Pa and Kebba both starting shouting “That’s the road! That’s the road!”  Ashley and I were mildly confused: yea, we were running on the road.  Then I looked up ahead and saw a beautiful sight to behold.  After 98 km on dirt road, the paved road sparkled like a mirage up ahead.   We got to it and I did my happy dance.  I kissed the road.  And then we ran 2 smooth miles, appreciated so much by each hard working muscle group that had run 98km on a road sometimes like running on ladder rungs; sometimes like running on a frozen eggo waffle; somethings like running through a maze of potholes.  Rejoice.

Insert from Ashley here!

Evidence of the pain of the very uneven dirt road: my right leg and ankle… During the first five km of the day running with Erin, I had a slight accident. Kebba and Pa were behind us in the truck, cheering and honking and lots of videotaping as usual, then Kebba yells, “Banjul calling!” At which point I hit a rock or bump or hole? And bam! Left ankle and leg underneath me, dragging on the road.

Luckily since I was running my right leg naturally was swinging forward and I just seemed to get right back into stride with Erin… or maybe I bounced off of the road? This may not sound quite as hilarious as it was, but while breaking under the tree, Pa admits he captured my fall on video. We watched of course and you hear Kebba yell “Banjul calling!” See me fall with a very loud “ugh!” and then Pa yelling “Careful Ashley!” after I’m already up and in pace with Erin again. We listened to this and laughed until we cried for at least 20 minutes.  So yes, real road that is smooth is a good thing. Someone had to fall on the dirt road, glad it was me and not Erin…and we had such a good chuckle! Back to Erin now.

Some facts:

Legs: Get a passing grade. Right groin is taped and is running comfortably. Aching some at night but less each night.  Right groin tight after today, hopefully just from stress of miles and will be fine.  One toe is being disagreeable and I’ve popped a blister on it twice.  Everything else is a-okay.

Animals: Not much to report. Donkeys run away from me when I get close.  Cattle don’t give a shit about white girl running passed them.  Today I ran nervously by 2 vultures feeding on a pile of garbage.  God, they are ugly creatures.   They were looking at me like I was quite tasty but didn’t budge when I ran by.

Thanks to Cindi Allen who sent a bag of toys with Ashley.  We gave them to the kids at SOS Children’s Village (Orphanage) where we were staying in Basse.

Supporters at home, we love you all.