When is it stupid to step on a ferry or climb in a large wooden boat?

by Jamie Rhein on

The news of the recent ferry accident in the Philippines reminded me of the many ferries I’ve taken in my travels. The journey across the wide mouth of the Gambia River between Banjul, the capital, and Barra, on the side of The Gambia where I lived, comes to mind the most.

Sometimes I made the trip in a large open wooden boat called a pirogue that would have given my mother a heart attack if she had known what I was up to.

When traveling in countries where bridges are scarce, ferry crossings are necessary. If you want to get from here to there, you step on. Generally, thoughts of accidents and the lack of life preservers are fleeting. Instead, one enjoys the thrill of watching one shore grow further away as another comes closer.

In the Gambia, a ferry is filled with people, cars, trucks, animals, motorcycles–basically whatever can be crammed on. It’s a mish mash of no order in particular. I always headed to the top deck to escape the crush.

Of all the crossings I’ve made in my life–and I’m not sure I could count them all, there’s only one that I should have never tried. Once, in a hurry to get to Banjul and not willing to wait for calmer waters, I climbed into one of the large wooden boats as it rocked furiously on the churning river.

A storm might have been coming in, but the owner of the boat, probably looking to make some money, embarked on the trip with about 70 people perched on the wooden boards that served as benches. Every once in a while, the top edge of the boat dipped within a few inches of the surface. We all shrieked each time.

Halfway out, my friend said to me, “If the boat turns over, swim away from it as fast as you can and wait.”

The idea was that the people who couldn’t swim would drown and we could swim back to the boat to hold on until rescued. If we stayed around the boat, people would pull us under.

Sure, I nodded, imagining myself a very strong swimmer, and not thinking too deeply about what such an accident would actually look like.

The truth is, I’m not a strong swimmer but at age 22 that sounded like a plausible plan. As years have passed, I realize just how dumb we were to get on that boat. And, lucky that we made it to the other side.

The last time I took the big ferry across, a cow fell off of it into the water after the ferry pulled away from shore. As I watched the cow swim towards land, its head and horns visible, I wondered just how the owner would get it back. The great thing about The Gambia is that someone would have held onto that cow until the owner came back to get it, even if it took all day and more.

This is a picture I took of the ferry in The Gambia. I was heading to the top deck. The quality stinks, (it’s an old photo, but you get the idea.) For a better picture, click here.

The top picture is of one of the boats similar to the one I took whenever I didn’t take a ferry. The crossing was not quick.

For a detailed account of the ferry crossings in Banjul and a visual look at how wide that river is, click here.

Good Deed Travel: Building houses in Mexico. The why factor

by Jamie Rhein on

When I told some people I was heading to Mexico to build houses there was a mixed reaction.

  • Some people wanted to know how they could go along.
  • Some thought that this was the greatest idea since sliced bread.
  • Some gave money to help fund our endeavor
  • Some were wary of the value of a bunch of high schoolers and adults descending into Mexico across from Tijuana to build houses in order to make the world a better place.
  • Some thought it was a good idea that we build houses in Mexico to help keep Mexicans in Mexico.
  • One person thought it ironic that I was going to Mexico to build houses when there are so many Mexican immigrants building houses here.

Such are the types of comments people make to those who are embarking on do good travel. Even Rick Steves has something to say.

Rick Steves is wary of groups, such as churches, who go to Mexico to build houses. (See post) In a nutshell, if I’m interpreting him correctly, he thinks these trips are feel good experiences for the participants, but don’t do much to help the world. He likes do good travel, but he doesn’t think this type of trip is it.

“Oh, that’s just great,” I thought as I was watching the video of his philosophical musings. I had already plopped down my deposit money for such a venture.

What was my motivation? Am I just a do-gooder at heart? Or was there something else?

I like the idea of doing good. Sometimes, I do do good, I think. But, being the curious sort who looks at most of life as a grand sociological experiment, I wanted to see what such a trip would be like–and I thought it would be a way to spend some time with my 9th grade daughter. Most of our days are spent flying about our lives at such a speed that we rarely settle down to see what’s going on with either of us. Those of you who have 9th graders know that sometimes getting info from them about their inner workings is like getting gold from Ft. Knox.

I also thought this trip to Mexico would be good for her to learn more about herself and see part of the world she hasn’t been before. Plus, she could see the value of being a do good traveler. She’s a traveler, but doing good has not been part of the focus.

The other truth is, I really, really, really wanted a trip where I could see something new. Seeing something new is how I stay sane. If it meant I had to do something good, so be it.

In all seriousness, because I was in the Peace Corps, I’m careful when it comes to do-good travel. I want to make sure that the organization offering help is not disrupting life in the country where the “good” is to occur. As far as I can tell, Amor Ministries is doing good. It works within the local communities where the houses are built.

This is not meant to push Amor Ministries or a church sponsored trip. This is just what I did. It was an easy fit. Sometimes in life, one just needs an easy fit. No fuss, no muss. There are many sectarian organizations that also do good work.

Although Rick Steves is not too enamored with groups that trot across the Mexican border for a week, I have a different take. It’s been a month since I returened from my journey to Mexico, so I’ve had time to sift through my thoughts.

What I have come up with so far is that because of our trip to Mexico:

  • 12 families have a better house to live in than they did before
  • a number of Mexican kids and American adolescents have great memories of each other
  • several high schoolers from predominately well-off backgrounds had a week where they could just be themselves without cell phones, distractions or mirrors to look into and fret over their appearance
  • adults had a chance to talk to each other about themselves and their lives without interruptions
  • adolescents and adults had a chance to work side-by-side which gave numerous opportunities to just be with each other on equal footing
  • in a pinch, I can build a house that at least puts a roof over my head, a floor under my feet and walls that should withstand wind.
  • because our church has repeated this trip for years, several people have developed a relationship with this part of Mexico and this has had an impact on subsequent work. (More on this in another post.)
  • I’d rather be building a house on a Mexican hillside than sitting out on a beach somewhere, although that beach is tempting, so I’m not opposed to those trips either.
  • Do good travel can be hell on sneakers. (Notice the sole is almost gone.)

Stay tuned for more on this do good travel in Mexico experience. I’ll even share the steps on home buildling.

Rick Steves on meaningful travel

by Jamie Rhein on

We’ve written about Rick Steves before. Neil hates him. (Not really, just jealous as all get out) and Aaron explored Steves’ guidebook writing know-how. Not long ago, Justin put some light on Rick Steves’ rap talents, or lack thereof. I catch Rick Steves from time to time on NPR and have some jealous pangs myself.

Recently, I came across this video of Steves on YouTube where he talks about the importance of traveling with meaning. Listening to him talk about what travel means to him provides insight into what motivates any of us to head to a place that is different from where we live. In Steves’ experience, there is an aspect of a spiritual endeavor in the travel he does. “Travel to me brings people together,” he says. “If you are an independent traveler, to me, it’s a spiritual experience.” To him, there is more than going from one tourist spot to another. Admittedly, I tend to agree with him, although I like the tourist hot spot travel from time to time.

I remember when I was in the Peace Corps I felt a bit harsh towards folks who I happened across in my forays to the tourist haven of Fajara, The Gambia. From my perspective, at the time, they were wandering through the world enjoying its bits and pieces without the drive to make life better for anyone while there I was assigned to a village with the mission to “help people help themselves.” I was probably in a whiny phase because helping people was a lot harder than I anticipated. What I really craved was a head of iceberg lettuce and a bag of pretzels, the two things not to be found in The Gambia at the time that I lived there.

There are certain moments in Steves’ talk where he teeters a bit close to the voice of judgment, similar to what I felt, about what motivates people to travel. His ideas are worth thinking about, although, as I’ve become older, I’ve become gentler in my approach. In my thinking, any time anyone sets foot across the border from where he or she resides into another culture, it’s mostly a good thing. One never knows which experience will be the one that changes a life. Plus, for folks who have only two weeks of vacation a year, there’s reality to deal with. Sometimes a person just needs some R&R in order to cope with slogging through life at home. But, perhaps, that’s the difference between travel and a vacation.

Where There is No Doctor: a medical handbook for everyone

by Jamie Rhein on

Every Peace Corps volunteer in The Gambia was given a copy of the book Where There is No Doctor: A village health care handbook so we could find the answer to our prayers in its pages. When one lives off in a village without easy access to medical help, one has a lot of prayers. Rashes, infections that won’t go away, stomach ailments, fevers etc., etc. Knowing how to pay attention to one’s body just to see if “this too shall pass” in a day or two and how to treat ailments oneself–or if a visit to the Peace Corps nurse is needed was part of the two year job that was once called, “The toughest job you’ll ever love.”

I poured over that book. Once, just a week after I moved to my post, convinced that I had maleria, I read the book to check my symptoms, began treating myself and took the next possible vehicle to Banjul, the country capital where the Peace Corps office, thus the nurse, was located at the time.

The journey was a combination of a sedan car taxi service from my village to Kerewan, the province capital, a ferry crossing at Kerewan, a pick-up truck style taxi ride (in the back of the truck) to the mouth of The Gambia River and then another long ferry crossing from one side of the river to the other, and then another taxi ride to the Peace Corps office. I can still feel every bump of the road and taste the red dust that dusted me by the end of the ride. I looked and felt like hell.

Another volunteer from my training group was also down for possible treatment. He had been bit by a monkey and wondered if he should get rabies shots. I can’t remember the details about his shots, but I do remember that I did not have maleria. I did have wicked dreams because of the medication I had already taken.

After I lived in the village for awhile, my visits to the Peace Corps nurse were infrequent, mostly just for booster shots. Where There is No Doctor came in handy. I learned that an infected blister will clear right up if you soak the infested area with hot water, for example. Pushing against the wound to get the pus to come out is a real no no.

Besides teaching me about my own body and health in an accessible way, it was a good read for understanding health concerns on a village level. The book was written for health care workers in the field who were in a village to help assist with medical care. If you’re going to be traveling in a remote area or, even if you’re not, Where There is No Doctor is a wonderful resource to have on hand.

One for the Road: The Unheard

by Kelly Amabile on

A few weeks ago I heard Josh Swiller speak about his new memoir on NPR, and I’ve been meaning to mention it ever since. The Unheard: A Memoir of Deafness and Africa is Swiller’s account of his experiences as a hearing-impaired American serving in the Peace Corps in Zambia. Sick of feeling like an outsider as a deaf man in the U.S., Swiller headed to Africa, where he was placed in the remote village of Mununga. He was the first white man to live in the impoverished community, and also the first person there with a hearing aid.

Swiller’s travels to Africa was much more than a do-good trip. His true journey was an inner one, during which he learned “just to be grateful for each moment.” His primary assignment to dig wells soon became secondary to more pressing needs of the village that he called home for two years. Swiller has received much praise for his debut memoir, a gripping account of an experience that was much more than cultural immersion. You can read one review here, from our friends at World Hum.