Internet continues to be a challenge. I’ve got a 2G connection, which means that I can just barely make WhatsApp eek out some text and a few very small pictures. My webmaster volunteer then converts the WhatsApp messages into a blog post. As a computer scientist, the idea of a human-in-the-loop to convert text from one form to another makes me cringe, but the tweaky network needs hand holding.

We spent almost the entire day doing recordings and learning more about the Fulani. Despite being spread across so many countries in Africa, they see themselves as foreigners everywhere. They mistrust everyone who is not a Fulani. Many stories exist of Fulani being beaten and attacked by other tribes accusing them first, for any problems in the community. Nomads chasing green pastures will always run afoul of farmers raising grains and veggies. The government has tried to convince the Fulani to just tend to their livestock in one area — on the family land. However, the Fulani can’t afford to buy grain to feed their livestock — they need to walk to greener pastures, even if that pasture might bring them across another tribe’s land. Complex. I suppose there are similar issues with “open range cattle” in the US.

Because of this distrust of other tribes, not just the white tribe from the US, but everyone who is not Fulani, we must be respectful in our interactions. The standard loud and aggressive American posture would not be welcome. So… even though there are SO many beautiful kids here at the local school run by the group we are visiting, we have decided not to share their photos. Trust me, they are very cute :-) The potential for a misunderstanding while taking photos of the villager’s children while the parents are back home in the village, is just too great.

Even so, one of my favorite photos is of the children’s sandals and lunch pails parked outside the school. Every child goes to school with a plastic lunch bucket prepared by their mom. So cute.

The other image that hints at the children :-) is of the shop keeper fishing out penny candy from a jar, like an old-time candy store. After school, the kids with a few pennies ran at full tilt to the small shop, pushing and shoving their way to the front. They called out their sweet of choice like a scene from Willy Wonka and waved their coin. Right below the photo is a sea of dirty hands hoping to get their candy first.

The men in the summer hut labeled “GAMBIE” are pastors that we recorded.

The chef holding the egg is Collette, and with her warm sweater she makes us a breakfast every morning.

The young lady with the orange head scarf is Collette’s helper.

Tomorrow we head in to the big city and record some doctors, and tomorrow evening we record the choir (my favorite part of any trip).

*I thought it would grab your attention if I quoted part of a text Pete sent me as the title of this post. Without internet access, he does not have veto power. — Joe