Mangee xontan (I'm happy (possibly))

As I flew over Gambia the dawn light revealed a change. It was green, houses nestled in grass and starkly contrasting my arrival in March. Leaving the plane the country smelt fresh and clean, the pre-dawn air still cool and damp. The familiar landscape all the way home was now carpeted in a foot high layer of plants, ground nuts, maize and grass identifiable alongside the plants I think are peppers and aubergine (these having frequently failed in my own gardening). I was struck that this is a great time to visit the Gambia, made potentially better because the tourist season is closed so it's also relatively calm and quiet.

Arriving at home I found a house of stale overheated air, made more unpleasant by a mouldy pan left on the stove. The cockroaches has again claimed the fridge and cupboards. Opening all the windows and doors I dealt with the pan and unpacked. I was bone tired and longingly considered a few minutes sleep. However, having committed to 10am mass for the feast of the assumption, instead I unpacked, reordered shelves and remade the bed with sheets from my grandparents. I then showered, dressed, with a false start as I remembered mosquito repellant and sun cream too late, and walked to church.

It's safe to say I was very sleepy. I'm reasonably sure I missed something in the point of the sermon as it seemed to be about how Mary always made sure Jesus was well dressed and that was the purpose of motherhood which is theologically unproven at best. However, I was struggling to keep my eyes open so the chance of missing something or indeed dreaming the whole thing is quite high. Still, I handed a very pleased choir president the music books sent by my mother and some fudge from the wedding which I'm not sure is a very Gambian taste.

As I drove to the Mendy's house for a feast day celebration I knew I couldn't think enough to follow the language or any names but felt very happy to be back. I spent most of the afternoon asleep as Francine loaned me her bed, then took some sweet wine and sour meat and rice. Sang Gaye asked if I'd missed this food. I really had, though was full before the sheep's head was brought out.

The end of the evening involved a trip to Banjul, a scarily white Mary presiding over the cathedral and a march round the town trying to get a ride home. By the time I reached my home I had also had, from three men I'd just met, two declarations of love and two proposals of marriage. As one of the guys asked why I was laughing I answered "I get a proposal at least once a week" but he still thought his was the most serious and was baffled as to why I wouldn't accept it.

As I fell asleep, for the next thirteen hours as it turned out, I smiled again to myself. In one day I'd had three propositions, shared bowls of food, experienced unquestioned hospitality and struggled to get by in a different language but really enjoying trying. I was certainly back in The Gambia.