Having decided that the new year was the best time to start a blog, this first entry will cover the festive period.

All eight volunteers in Senegal decided to meet up in the Gambia to spend Christmas together, in a hotel in a super touristy area(it was nice to be able to be touristy for a while!). We spent Christmas day cooking bacon rolls(a luxury in a mainly Muslim country) and relaxing on the beach, at times fending off offers of "the real gambian experience" from some of the locals. We left that particular experience to the middle-aged white ladies, wandering along the beach or sitting in a restaurant with a young gambian man, acting all loved-up. It was a strange sight... The owner off the Italian restaurant just round the corner from the hotel had some enlightening views on the subject. After finding out that I was from Scotland he launched into the story off two obese Scottish women who had come to his restaurant a few years ago and told him that they had come to the Gambia to look for husbands.

"I think they are not getting them in Scotland because they were too fat, y'know?"

It's a possibility...However, we were unsure how much trust to put in an italian who does not serve PIZZA at lunch time!

The Gambia was beautiful and although I kept on being called "Sista" by the Gambians, they were very helpful and generally nice. However, my personal highlight of the holiday was one night, waiting until Tom(Kaolack volunteer), nodded off to sleep on the sofa and helpfully trimming his hair in a fashion-forward style and then handing the scissors to Zoe(partner in crime) who boldly chopped off Tom's poor excuse for a beard, which he has been growing for three months. What a partnership.

When we returned from the Gambia(but only after escaping the amorous border guards, who were not in the least bothered about seeing our Yellow Fever vaccination certificates, only our phone numbers), we attended a Joola(ethnic group in Senegal) wedding. The wedding lasted for two days and we quickly realised that at a senegalese wedding, little happens during the day(eating, drinking ataya, the sweet senegalese tea, and chatting, or, if you are Zoe, climbing trees and having your picture taken) - you have to wait until the evening for the singing and CRAZY dancing to start.

The first day of the wedding took place in the bride's village, not far from Ziguinchor. That evening was the first time I had experienced Joola dancing and although we took photos and videos, they really do not do the atmosphere justice. Later on in the evening, the party moved to the bridegroom's home - the convoy of cars and buses that took the guests from the village back to Ziguinchor was hilarious - people hanging off the back of buses and screaming, singing, etc. Of course, as soon as the guests arrived at the house, the dancing started again. At different points during the evening both Zoe and I were pushed into the centre of the rowdy circle of dancers and told to do a solo dance. Seen as there was no time to realise just how mortifying this was, both Zoe and I managed to pull out a few of our better dance moves before we could find an opening in the circle - at which point, we bolted.

The second day of the wedding consisted of more dancing, singing, eating and taking pictures of the toubabs(white people) in their boubous(traditional senegalese dress). On the, second day the baptism of two children also took place; this was honoured by the slaughter of two goats. We watched the slaughtering and then I "helped"(not quite sure just how helpful I actually was...)the men to chop up one of the carcasses. Our first senegalese wedding was so much fun, however if ever anyone mentions Joola dancing again, I will be quick to remind them of my sprained ankle, ah hm hmm.

Hogmanay senegalese style was actually not that different to Scotland, however for most people I am sure that it was much more sober. We first went to the party which one of our host families was having and after doing some dancing and quite a lot more eating and drinking, we moved on to the street party in the centre of town. THIS was fairly different to Edinburgh in that Health and Safety regulations were totally absent and people just let off their own fireworks and crackers, underneath the telephone wires and next to the petrol station, no biggie!

After the festive period, the students were in no hurry to get back to school. Although lessons were meant to start on the 2nd of January, both Zoe and I walked into completely empty classrooms that day. Things are back to normal now, apart from the students striking. I was so surprised when I heard that school students go on strike here because I cannot imagine the same thing happening on such a massive scale in Scotland. The reason for the strikes is that many students who received their Bac(end of school exam) last year have not yet been told whether or not they have been accepted at university. These students come into the schools and ask the students to strike with them. However the students have little choice - if they want to stay in class then the strikers throw stones at them. I decided to start a debate in one of my classes about the strikes and although there were interesting views in favour of and against the strikes, the whole class agreed that they were glad of the opportunity to go out and béguéé(have fun), and then lie-in the next morning when the strikes are on!

I am now off to an English Club meeting and then perhaps to do some tidying-up before our desk officer visit, next week...