Breakfast sandwiches

I don't think I will ever get used to pasta sandwiches. My first exposure to this was one morning at NYSS camp [see photos- breakfast in the tailoring shop and under a tree]. The flavours were nice; spicy and well cooked. But I'm not sure that my Western tastes are going to find pasta a regular sandwich filling and I limited how much I ate, knowing a huge meal of rice and something will follow in a few hours. Also, because I have to eat with my anti-malarial, there's a real danger of developing a habit of four or five huge meals each day. Luckily food here is never wasted and I can always find someone to take my sandwich or other left overs, with the phrase "sur na, jerejef" ("I'm full, thank you").

Breakfast at the camp was served at about 10 am with a cup of sweet tea. Before I left the UK a new friend said on adding half a spoon to his mug "when you take sugar in your tea it's like being a social leper" on adding a spoonful to his cup. Here I was explaining that to the young people who laughed; the tea we are served is very sweet with at least 5 dessertspoons in a serving, milky, weak and hot. It is scooped up in plastic cups and can be a pleasing taste to wash down a peppery sandwich. I can't always finish a whole mug though!

Mburru ag neebe on the other hand is a bit of a favourite. It's beans on bread and the version I first had was cooked in a tomato and peanut sauce, essentially a very tasty beans on toast. Still, given that one bread is the size of my forearm, I still only take half. They say breakfast sandwiches are high on the list of things missed by returned volunteers.

Most mornings for me are however greeted with a piece of bread, coffee made with instant granules and milk powder and the obligatory anti-malarial with some refrigerated tap water. The water is safe to drink but definitely nicer chilled, or mixed if I've splashed out on a carton of fruit juice. However, this morning supplies were low so, as a rare treat which very few others would've loved but has been a personal favourite since university, I popped to the local bitik (corner shop, which is literally that, almost a larder on the corner, and everything is passed out from behind a caged counter), bought some fresh tapalapa (French style bread and very close to the top of the list of stuff Gambian does well -see photo) whilst having a brief chat in Wollof. As I walked to work I took some of the enormous peppery radishes I'd bought the previous day and a small pat of softening butter from my bag and created the great breakfast of raddish on bread. It was heaven.