Gambia: the kids are alright

How are the kids liking it in The Gambia? That’s definitely the question I’ve been asked most during my first month here. Every parent knows that our own happiness largely depends on how the kids are doing, and other people, mostly those who think we’re a little crazy for moving to West Africa, seem genuinely concerned if the kids are coping well with the change and their new, exotic surroundings.

School is “perfect”

Basically, the kids have been displaying an enormous amount of adaptability and optimism since the moment we left the United States for The Gambia. Despite the brutal flights we took to get here and my tendency to temper expectations lest they be shocked by anything, they never despaired. Quite the contrary. On the first day, they were in awe of our large house and the outdoor pool. The next day they ran over to the neighbours and made friends with them (and secured trampoline privileges).

To keep spirits high, we spent the first few days ordering things from Amazon to decorate their new rooms and making frequent trips to the nearby ice cream shop. They make delicious sherbet in familiar flavors and also things like baobab and hibiscus. I don’t even really like ice cream but I like theirs!

But then the real test came: the first day of school. Would they be nervous? Would they like their new classmates, and be accepted? Would they like their French classes? Would they be able to withstand the heat and the mosquitoes during recess? The answer is a resounding yes. They had a fabulous day and immediately declared the school “perfect.” It’s been four weeks now and they still love everything about their little international school. They even—shocker—love the food they serve there.

Soccer and fitness

The small size of the school already proves to have several benefits. First of all, there are so few kids (72 total KG-12) that there is a lot more mixing of age groups outside of class. My daughter is in a class with nine third-graders, and only one of three girls, but during the breaks and after school she also plays with fourth and fifth graders. She even gained the confidence to run for, and win a seat in, the student council! She feels totally at ease at school and is clearly flourishing.

My son, a sixth-grader now, enjoys the same benefits. His classes are just with age mates, but at recess he isn’t shunned by the older boys like he was in Mumbai—he plays soccer with everyone in middle school and already had a few parties where boys from multiple grades gathered. Soccer is huge in The Gambia. Thankfully we’ve always stimulated that for him and he is reaping the benefits now. He plays a lot inside and outside of school so he gets to know all the other active boys and is never bored.

From what I can tell, Gambians in general are an active and fit bunch. A lot of the fitness training takes place on the beach, including by the military recruits! There are lots of soccer clubs and it’s easy to find instructors for tennis, golf, gymnastics, etc. It’s a great way to fill the time, meet new people, and have fun.

The long trip here

I guess I shouldn’t have been so surprised about how quickly the kids felt at home here. During the long trip from the US to The Gambia the kids were unbelievably resilient. My husband had traveled ahead of us, which left the task of lugging the kids and the majority of our luggage through four airports to me. Because of fairly unreasonable travel regulations imposed by the government we flew in the middle of the night from Boise to Denver, to Chicago, to Washington DC, to Amsterdam (granted, this stop was my request). After a 24-hour stay, we flew via Istanbul (which is fully in the wrong direction) to Banjul.

Throughout the trip I had to wake up my daughter at least five times, each time just as she was falling into a deep sleep. She never looked more like a zombie. We even lost one pair of her shoes in Istanbul when we realized they changed the gate last minute and hurriedly gathered our stuff. But during the entire ordeal the kids didn’t complain about a thing—not about the piss-poor airplane food, or having to carry their own bags, or constantly having to stand in line, or having to sit next to strangers on the plane, or anything else.

Freedom at last

There are two things I find difficult about raising (my) kids: the strong attraction of devices and the lack of physical freedom they often have. And I think these two things are related. In Mumbai, but also in Falls Church, Virginia—which is one of the most expensive and for many families a highly desirable place to raise children—kids simply can’t leave the house by themselves. Security, neighbors, teachers and property managers are all united to remind parents of their duty (where did we sign for this?) to watch our kids like hawks at all times.

More importantly, these cities were absolutely not designed with kids in mind no matter how nice the schools or playgrounds look. Kids are put in pens. There are no safe bike lanes, no parks or squares where children are encouraged to play sports or congregate. Most organized kids activities and lessons are obnoxiously expensive, crowded, and “hard to get into.” Once I had my own kids I came to view these cities less as places of architectural beauty and career opportunity and more for the dirty, soulless,  dangerous, ruined-by-traffic-and-construction zones they really are.

Because we always live in big cities for work, my kids are essentially forced to grow up indoors. My kids, like most kids I imagine, have an enormous amount of energy, so when they aren’t allowed to run wild, they escape in the world of gaming to get some kind of semblance of adventure. And that makes me the mean person who hides their devices and lectures them about the evil of videogames. At this point, when I present them with alternatives like board games or LEGOs they just roll their eyes and walk the other way.

The simple life

Enter: The Gambia. Life is much simpler here. Children still walk and play outside, often accompanied by siblings rather than parents. There are many (unpaved) roads that don’t have cars or, when there are cars, they are forced to drive so slowly a serious accident is out of the question. Kids who live nearby bike to school. Local shops are everywhere selling basic, affordable snacks (no overpriced candy or caffeinated sports drinks) so kids can buy a normal soda or some sweets with their pocket money, just like I did back in the day with my friends whenever I had a few bucks to my name.

The amount of choices of what to do or buy in The Gambia is limited—manageable for kids. There isn’t an overwhelming supply of classes or tutors here, so everyone who wants to branch out goes to the same clubs and teachers to learn sports or instruments. There basically are no western retailers here, so kids aren’t confronted all the time with new fads or fancy brands unless they travel overseas during longer school breaks, of which there are only two per year (winter and summer).

The silver spoon

Having said all that, I also have to acknowledge how privileged we, and by extension our kids, are here in The Gambia. The school is wonderful, yes, but that shouldn’t be all that surprising if you see the tuition fees. They’re able to hang out with friends by their own pool, eat food prepared by a professional chef, and take private tennis lessons. It’s not so shocking, then, that they love their life here.

I just hope that the “expat privileges” don’t spoil them completely because living in Africa also allows them to do things that I consider part of a normal childhood—moving about freely, manage your own social life, learn how to use money, have only limited screen time, partake in just a few after school activities, and hang out with people from different age groups. Besides, they face challenges most kids don’t face by moving to an entirely new place every few years, which is clearly making them flexible and open minded.

Banjul American International School (BAIS)