With learning from past Sarahs I volunteered for the programme sub-committee. Like The Gambia itself, most of the participants are Muslim and we were keen that all prayer times were observed, including for the three Christian young people attending so I was also tasked with making sure their religious observances were met.
We crossed the border after sunset so all I could see of Senegal was a potholed road and sodium lights glowing through distant suburbs. Rufisque, where the camp would be held on the outskirts of Dakar, was still some miles away. Fighting sleep to see the new country it seemed as if every time I opened my eyes I saw the same bush passing the window. Finally convinced sleep would win I curled up into the bumpy Senegalese drive.
The programme followed a pattern of celebration, looking at life skills, playing different sports, creative arts and exploring both Gambian and Senegalese culture. As the theme of the week was Discovering Gambia's Young Talents, we held a talent contest, performed plays and cultural dances, and the participants could try new skills. Of course this was all accompanied by regular appearances of shared food bowls. Perhaps the nicest point for me was one young boy delivering a message with the phrase "Auntie Helen, Uncle Mohammed wants to speak to you". None of my godchildren are old enough to say my name that way yet so I think it's the first time I've been called auntie by a child. Mind you, to the godsons and any other relevant children who turn up I'll be "The anti-Helen".
A youth residential camp doesn't really allow for an exploration of the area in a tourist style. However, we all had an excursion to the Monument to the African Renaissance. This 57 metre high construction is on top of a hill by Dakar airport and shows an African family rising out of the earth (a French - Wollof play on words, sufferance being the suffering they've left, suuf being the ground). The family points into the continent of Africa, enormous baby held aloft by a protective and confident man with his wife, partly also representing the work in the times of suffering, following the gaze of them all. One of the other youth workers and I bought a ticket to take the lift to the man's hat which is also a viewing platform across Dakar. It's enormous, though I was most excited to be up a hill after months of living on an African plain. (Yes, Durham included a hill and yes, I enjoyed that one too!)
I also had a look around the local area, escorted by a trainee priest Alphonse with the Catholic children before mass. We popped into a wedding, met some nuns (and I was roundly instructed by my charges not to become a nun but to have a family instead), then joined the parish for the service. There was more French than Wollof but it was still scattered with music in the local tongue. Alphonse also told us more about Mam Kumba Lamba, the djinn who the local animists believe protects Rufisque and the people of Senegal.
The camp closed with a ceremony and thanks to the organisers, which kindly included a certificate for me. I took the opportunity to practice some final French. We left very early in the morning and again I slept through the dark.
We stopped at day break and I poured coffee for friends leaning on a pick up truck between a verdant ground nut field and a railway track, maize waving in the distance. The morning air was cool and the light pleasant with clear blue skies, signalling a hot day ahead, all be it joyfully. As a freight train passed it may well have been the first train some of these children have seen as Gambia doesn't have a railway.
Dosing through the morning drive I looked out onto Senegal. Our red brown road was cheerfully taken over by round-leaved groundnut plants, throwing a fresh green over the landscape. Occasionally a baobab springs up, a green grey mushroom against fading blue sky. I was struck by the sheer classic Sahel plain image. I might have enjoyed the hill but the flat landscape has become for me my current corner of Africa.
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