"Let's go to Mango."

 Fatou Bobo's new house is almost complete. She refers to it as "Mango," as in "Binta, come spend the afternoon at Mango." I have never heard of Gambians naming their homes before, and I think this is adorable.

The new house is by itself at the edge of the village, near the road leading to the groundnut fields. It is next to a well and surrounded by mango trees. The house has two rooms, a corrugate roof and wooden doors and shutters. They've also bought a calf, who is kept tied up to one of the mango trees.

I helped Fatou coat the walls with mud one day. It's sort of like plastering them, I guess. You slap the mud onto the wall and smear it around to a smooth finish. It is possibly the best way of spending an afternoon ever.

Unfortunately for Fatou, not everyone shares my enthusiasm for mud. “I asked Alieu Sowe to help me. He said, ‘If you give me money.’”

Then began a long rant about the people who will come when she brews attaya or mixes juice, but if she is working, she will be alone. “If it’s to eat, they come. If it’s to work, no one comes.” Fatou could write the story of the Little Red Hen, except it's already been written.

The backyard.

I tried to get some photos of the house, just the house, without the children.

Then I gave up.

Then I realized it's better this way.

Musa!

Pateh! and Rugi!

Rugi is...dancing?

Yes, that is a ladder leaning against that wall.

There's even a porch!