For the past three months as I've arrived home I've been leapt upon by a gang of children. After greeting the older neighbours we usually start dancing in the street, involving lots of clapping, stamping and a song about a girl called Linda in a yellow dress sung by Mam Jarra. The whole street knows my name and expects dancing whenever I pass. I usually oblige.
On the Friday before last I was walking home and decided to explore a different route. The heat rose and, as I turned around and headed for the market, I heard my name called. Mam Jarra waved from the midst of a gang of girls coming home from school. Excitedly she ran up and pulled me into the crowd, introducing me. "suma toubab" (my white person) heard her say proudly as I shook everyone's hand. She then took mine and came to the market with me, turning shy when we met a colleague of mine but immediately back to claiming me as her own when we met a crowd of younger children. She also made a profit of a pineapple juice and piece of fruit which she shared with friends as she passed.
Last Thursday I was in a rush home from work. I greeted the lads drinking attaya but declined the offer of a seat as I was desperate for a lot of water and a shower, and to change my now sweat-sodden dress. As I entered the compound the cries of children met me and I received a hug from Mam Jarra and two small toddlers with sticky hands and faces. The boys playing football in the drive broke off their game, came to shake my hand and quickly got back to it, duty done and each having used the distraction to shift the opposition's goal.
The younger children had a sticker book. Therefore the next half an hour was spent sat on my step whilst stickers were very carefully removed from the book and, more carefully, placed all over my face. At this point my landlord appeared and, with a bemused expression, presented me with a water bill.
I brought out a cup, iced water and some mango for everyone.
"who ever heard of a footballer stopping for mango?" complained the oldest lad.
"it's a Gambian half time orange" I replied.
I then spent fifteen minutes convincing the kids that perhaps the best game to play now is "let's put the stickers back in the book" and escaped for a shower. At which point a sticky paper circle with a green star fell out onto the shower floor.
The following day I bought eggs at the shop. A new customer greeted me. "ana sa xaleyi?". I replied, "nun fa, jama rek". And I knew exactly which children I was talking about, even if I don't know the Olof for "sticker".
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