The Sweet _Pot

The purple sweet potato had not yet fulfilled its purpose of becoming a hearty meal. After sitting on the dining room table for so long, it sprouted roots, as if eager to serve another purpose. Within a few weeks, long, healthy tentacles began spreading out to the north, south, east, and west! I was amazed and excited to witness its rapid growth. It felt magical—thriving without water or soil.

The thin patch of earth outside the bedroom windows had been designated for flowers, as my landlord had suggested. But I had other plans. After a quick Google search, I knew exactly what to do. I would plant that single sweet potato and its slips (the roots that shoot out) and see how they fared.

The next day, I inserted the shriveled bulb into the soil, and to my pleasant surprise, it grew like wildfire! The green leaves thrived, and so did my happiness. The broad smile it brought to my face was proof of the joy that one potato could inspire. With regular observation, I watched it spread far beyond the allocated patch of earth, spilling onto the paved compound. Everyone who saw it was amazed. I watered that patch with so much pride.

I began thinking about the people and places with whom I could share the slips. Not only did I distribute them, but I also gave my time and energy to replant them.

I had been volunteering at a botanical garden in Kerr Serign once a week, despite constant requests for more of my time. One day, I brought a large bag filled with 8- to 10-inch slips I had carefully cut and prepared. Even the process of getting them ready to share filled me with joy. The head gardener was impressed, and my happiness spread further. We had already prepared the soil to transplant them, and that day, we merrily placed the slips into their new home. After watering them well, we left them to settle. Time would reveal the results of our efforts.

Unfortunately, due to other commitments, I couldn’t continue volunteering at the garden. I have a tendency to pass through people and places, sharing my time, energy, skills, and knowledge. In every interaction, I share my joy and enthusiasm.

On another bright and beautiful day, I visited the home of a young woman I’d met during a day trip to a village. She was part of a group from the USA supporting a local school, and on the return journey, we struck up a conversation. She admired my locks, and I agreed to help her start her own. Her natural hair needed some TLC, so we made arrangements for her to visit my home. As I twisted and cornrowed her hair to begin the process, we talked and laughed. I mentored her through some personal challenges and even offered to help her mother by planting some of the slips in their compound. If the harvest was good, they could sell the surplus.

Her family compound was also in Kerr Serign (though unrelated to the garden), and soon enough, I found their home. Her family welcomed me warmly. Together with her father and younger brother, we prepared a bed for the slips. The soil was tough to break, but through sweat and determination, we got the job done. The slips were planted, watered, and left to grow. I also lent her 1000 dalasi, which she promised to repay but never did. She never returned, and I never saw the results of our hard work. It was such a shame.

Another batch of slips made their way to Sanyang, to the home of a Black British woman I’d met. She had become a property agent, and while working with her to find a place to live had been a nightmare, it didn’t stop her from inviting me to her housewarming party. Nor did it stop me from accepting. Knowing she had space to grow crops, I brought slips as a gift. She even offered me a portion of her land to cultivate additional crops and share in the harvest.

That day, I happily prepared the ground by myself, while the two men I’d arrived with kept her company. Cultivating a garden always brings me joy, so I worked with love and care. Sadly, the agreement to share the harvest never materialized. I never saw her again.

Though I haven’t directly benefited from the fruits of my labor, I’m comforted knowing that I’ve spread love, care, and attention across The Gambia. While I may not know how well the slips produced, what matters most is that I lived my life with generosity and without expecting monetary returns.

One unexpected outcome of this journey involved a kitten named Lucky. On the day I planted slips at the British woman’s home, I couldn’t leave without taking home one of her three mother cats’ kittens. The tiny white, black, brown, and tan feline fit perfectly in my hand. One of the men I came with decided to name her Lucky, and the name stuck.

Two years later, as I prepared to leave The Gambia, Lucky became a challenge. She nibbled holes in my clothes and left the remains of birds she’d caught outside my front door. I felt embarrassed to ask someone to take her in. One day, a schoolteacher friend came to help me pack while I was sick. He met Lucky, petted her, and without me asking, offered to give her a new home. I almost cried with gratitude.

Interestingly, this teacher, Dee, was someone I’d met at Sanyang Basic School, where I had volunteered to restore their neglected garden. I worked with teachers and students for months, designing a new layout and providing seeds and ideas. When I returned after the rainy season, I was delighted to see the garden thriving. Dee’s efforts had kept it alive, and now he was giving Lucky a new home in Gunjur, near Sanyang.

The cycle of life had come full circle. What started with a single sweet potato had spread far and wide, touching lives in ways I never expected.